Red numbers flashed from the alarm clock, piercing the darkness of the
living room. 01:34. Illuminated by it's faint glow, a small, blue cat sat
curled in an overstuffed armchair, watching the door. It's eyes shone with
the same intensity as one would expect from a tiger stalking it's prey.
There was a scratching from the other side of the door.
Someone is having difficulty getting the key in the lock. The cat's face contorted into a strangely smug expression. He's probably drunk again. It figures.
The door finally creaked open and a figure stumbled into the room. Dressed in a blue and orange gi, the man slowly made his way to the bedroom, leaning on the furniture for support. It wasn't until he reached the doorway that he realised that the room was occupied.
"Hey Puar" his speech was slurred with alcohol. "What you doin up this *hic*... late?"
"Early Yamcha. Early. It's Saturday."
"Well wadeya know" he squinted at the clock, "Anyways, see ya tomorrow, today, whatever."
With that he closed the bedroom door, leaving Puar to sleep on the armchair.
*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%
Sunlight filtered through the kitchen curtains and onto the bench where Puar was eating a bowl of cereal. She was still angry with Yamcha and took it out on the sultanas, flicking them into the garbage disposal.
I can't believe he forgot again! All I ask is that he remembers my birthday once. Just once. He even promised to spend Friday night with me to celebrate but no. He just conveniently forgets about me and go out drinking.
Just then Yamcha decided to make his entrance. Clutching his head, he reached into the back of one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of whisky. Taking a swig, he puled a chair over to where Puar was perched.
"Nothing like the hair of the dog eh Puar."
"Do you know what day it was yesterday Yamcha?" Puar's tail twitched irritably.
"Well duh. It was Friday."
Puar clenched her teeth. "And what was important about Friday?"
"I dunno. Is this a trick question?" He scratched the back of his head, a trait picked up from Goku.
"It was my birthday and you promised that this year you would spent my birthday with me!"
"Whoah, settle down Puar!" he lent forward in his chair, "It's not like I forget every year."
"Correction, you do forget every year." She glared at the extensively scarred man.
"Well it's not easy remembering everyone's birthdays when you have as many friends as me."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
Well I thought it was quite obvious. You. Have. No. Friends. Apart. From. Me."
"That's a lie! I have heaps of friends!"
"Then name them."
"There's Tien, Gohan, Dende, Master Roshi, 18, Bulma, Kri-"
"Cut the crap Puar. I mean your friends, as in people who visit you. Do you have any friends that I don't know about?" Yamcha reclined back into his seat.
Puar's face fell. She knew the answer to that. "No."
"So next time you come crying to me about something I forgot, I want you to think about that."
With that, Yamcha took one last swig of the whiskey, put it back in the cupboard and walked out of the apartment. Puar sat on the bench for another hour or so, mulling over things. Suddenly she glared at the door from which Yamcha left and whispered in a quiet yet determined voice,
"I'm going to go get friends of my own."
Someone is having difficulty getting the key in the lock. The cat's face contorted into a strangely smug expression. He's probably drunk again. It figures.
The door finally creaked open and a figure stumbled into the room. Dressed in a blue and orange gi, the man slowly made his way to the bedroom, leaning on the furniture for support. It wasn't until he reached the doorway that he realised that the room was occupied.
"Hey Puar" his speech was slurred with alcohol. "What you doin up this *hic*... late?"
"Early Yamcha. Early. It's Saturday."
"Well wadeya know" he squinted at the clock, "Anyways, see ya tomorrow, today, whatever."
With that he closed the bedroom door, leaving Puar to sleep on the armchair.
*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%*&^%
Sunlight filtered through the kitchen curtains and onto the bench where Puar was eating a bowl of cereal. She was still angry with Yamcha and took it out on the sultanas, flicking them into the garbage disposal.
I can't believe he forgot again! All I ask is that he remembers my birthday once. Just once. He even promised to spend Friday night with me to celebrate but no. He just conveniently forgets about me and go out drinking.
Just then Yamcha decided to make his entrance. Clutching his head, he reached into the back of one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of whisky. Taking a swig, he puled a chair over to where Puar was perched.
"Nothing like the hair of the dog eh Puar."
"Do you know what day it was yesterday Yamcha?" Puar's tail twitched irritably.
"Well duh. It was Friday."
Puar clenched her teeth. "And what was important about Friday?"
"I dunno. Is this a trick question?" He scratched the back of his head, a trait picked up from Goku.
"It was my birthday and you promised that this year you would spent my birthday with me!"
"Whoah, settle down Puar!" he lent forward in his chair, "It's not like I forget every year."
"Correction, you do forget every year." She glared at the extensively scarred man.
"Well it's not easy remembering everyone's birthdays when you have as many friends as me."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
Well I thought it was quite obvious. You. Have. No. Friends. Apart. From. Me."
"That's a lie! I have heaps of friends!"
"Then name them."
"There's Tien, Gohan, Dende, Master Roshi, 18, Bulma, Kri-"
"Cut the crap Puar. I mean your friends, as in people who visit you. Do you have any friends that I don't know about?" Yamcha reclined back into his seat.
Puar's face fell. She knew the answer to that. "No."
"So next time you come crying to me about something I forgot, I want you to think about that."
With that, Yamcha took one last swig of the whiskey, put it back in the cupboard and walked out of the apartment. Puar sat on the bench for another hour or so, mulling over things. Suddenly she glared at the door from which Yamcha left and whispered in a quiet yet determined voice,
"I'm going to go get friends of my own."