“tail” weaver: it’s so nice, living the suburban life

To Oloriel: My animal monologue is kinda off the wall. I get kinda loopy when I’m writing around 3 am. I loved the prompt — so many options!

I’ve been reading the submissions. Fantastic responses to the prompt. By the way, I never actually introduce myself; you have to guess!

~ *~ *~*~

Ouch! I must’ve eaten something nasty last night. Kinda surprised, food around here is pretty upscale.

Had been a good week. A late night with the boys. Had biscotti with a recent arrival. What a fox!

Our philosophy, group discussed the cultural differences between rural/forest dwellers and their urban, suburban creatures. Were the differences so great you could posit that there is more than one sub-species rather than forest versus suburbia. Rocky, as usual had fastidiously-formed questions that he’d answer himself

In group therapy, we talked about Opie’s obsessive fear: to be “relocated.” she’s all nutty about ending up in the relocation cage, and then thrown out in some wilderness area. Opie said it was a slow death as none of us “spoiled suburbanites” would have to clue what to do. When to run or stand your ground. Who are your friends, frenemies, and the vicious haters. How to figure out was edible and what’s not.

Opie’s list of the “facts” of a slow death was long. By the end, even the therapist looked a little shaky.

But a night out with Chippie and the gang eased the “angst.”  Rocky, in his mildly condescending voice, suggested I should pay more attention to my personal hygiene. No respectable female would consider dating me. Think he was jealous of the me hanging out with new foxy woman in the neighbour.

Horace, Ronald and Viki, on a tight schedule, flew through their recent exploits. I cut the stories in half, and if told by Ronald another 1/4, to get to what really might have happened.

Roar, grumble, ache. Maybe I’ll just stay home tonight. My current digs are awesome. Solid wood roof, grass underneath. Quiet part of the neighbourhood.

Rarely disturbed – folks keep their distance. In a fight, my lethal weapon gives me the advantage. While friends might prefer to sit down wind, they appreciated what I brought to the party.

I sleep with ears and one eye open. And, dogs especially beat a quick retreat after a taste of my lethal, secret weapon.

Wait, tonight is anger management group. I ‘m not the angry type, but the field trips usually means that somebody goes nuts, and the garbage cans go flying.

And, there’s that scavenger dumpster dive contest tomorrow night . For a guy with “personal hygiene problems”, I have a rocking life style. The pre-mate years go by awful fast.

I gotta go.

“He’s got a lethal weapon that nobody sees,” The Envoy, Warren Zevon

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie:   Tale Weaver #20: animal 
















5 thoughts on ““tail” weaver: it’s so nice, living the suburban life

  1. Bastet August 11, 2014 / 1:49 am

    You skunk you … an anger management meeting .. lovely post made me smile!


    • phylor August 11, 2014 / 8:31 am

      Was it the personal hygiene or the lethal weapon that gave it away. Based on vague memories of a cartoon/movie. I think it was called the neighborhood and was populated with talking suburban animals.
      Glad I made you smile! I like it when my writing achieves a smile rating.


      • Bastet August 12, 2014 / 12:25 am

        It wasthe secret weapon and the dogs … I probably saw cartoons a million time used to love the french skunk romancer who fell in love with a black cat who’d had white paint fall on her back. :-)


        • phylor August 12, 2014 / 4:56 am

          Pepe (?) Le Pew! I remember those, and the look on the cat’s face!


          • Bastet August 12, 2014 / 5:04 am

            EXACTLY …. poor miss cat!


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