Where in the World is Willard Kraft Part 11
Zelda sat curled up in a ball in a corner of the cell. Her two cellmates were sleeping but there was no way that she could rest. The cautiously prodded a blue spot on her arm and wondered if it was just a bruise or if it might be the first sign of the plague. With the way her luck had been running lately, it would be the plague.
Just then, a familiar face appeared at the cell door. "Salem!" she cried in a muffled whisper as the cat came slipping into the cell. "What are you doing here?"
"This stupid flea wanted to visit you," Salem muttered. "He wouldn't stop biting me until I came down here. My poor ear is raw and I think there are blisters on my paws. Do you know how far the police station is from the house?"
"Salem, it's only half a mile," Zelda muttered as she peered down at the cat's ear trying to spot her poor boyfriend. "Willard, where are you?"
"There he is. Could you please make him stop biting me?" the cat said as Willard climbed onto the tip of Salem's ear so that Zelda could see him. "Oh, and tell him to stop making me watch Bowling for Dollars. I can't stand that show!"
"Willard, I'm so sorry," Zelda whispered as she looked tenderly down at the flea. "Don't worry, Monkey. As soon as I get out of here, I'll find a way to turn you back into a human again."
"I wouldn't bet on your getting out of here any time soon. Hilda's down to the dregs of the family tree and she still needs fifty thousand more dollars. The odds of you getting out of here are a thousand to one in Vegas, not that that stupid flea will let me put money on it," Salem grumbled.
"This is a nightmare," Zelda whispered as she carefully patted Willard and started to cry.