Whenever the cat was let in,
having been locked out for the
night, we joked that it had been
out playing poker, or, like our
step-father, out on the pull.
When he heard of our disrespect,
we were reminded that he had
decided to get the cat - his cat -
but only tolerated us for the sake
of our mother. And, as some
other bugger's bastards, we could
fuck off home to Bristol or Barrow
or Berlin or wherever we'd come
from if we didn't like it.
When the cat was found
run over one night he cried
and cried and we were left in
peace and quiet for days.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment