Henry and Kate
A short story of love and hate by D.J. Lutz, copyright February 2011
You ever wake up, laying on the floor, totally not sure if you wore that broken lampshade on your head last night? No? Well, that’s me this morning.
The whole apartment looks to be in shambles, although for some reason everything seems to be a different shade of gray. Must have had some real fun last night, I guess. I do remember chasing Kate around the dinner table, with both of us ending up on the couch, if only for a fleeting moment before running, literally running to the bedroom. Cushions are still here, there and everywhere, but I don’t recall how the window curtain got tore up; I was probably too focused on Kate to notice. Yes, that must have been a good romp.
I smell something odd. Do you smell it, too? And where’s Kate? Probably still sleeping, the lazy…what is that smell?
Oh, that’s it…last night’s dinner. All over the kitchen floor. Well my dish may be upside down, but at least it doesn’t look broken. That would get me in some real trouble, I bet. Typical. Kate’s dinner plate is pristine. I always end up looking like the bad one, why should this morning be any different? At least the table top looks to be okay…this time.
There you are! Don’t just stand there, smiling. You had your part in all of this, you know.
(The front door opens.)
“Oh…my…Bob! Look at this place! The curtains! What happened to my lamp? And what is that smell? Come here, Katie. What did that mean dog do to my wonderful little kitty?”
“Henry! Bad, bad dog!”
Crap, back to the doghouse for me…again.