Forgot a disclaimer in the last part: I own nothing, make no money, etc.
As Mort pulled into town his thoughts drifted back to the situation at hand. Driving past the pet store, Mort instead pulled into the town's sole vet's office. Feeling rather embarrassed, he explained the problem to the receptionist. It hadn't helped that she was batting her lashes and smiling at him the whole time. She had all but thrown herself to the floor, legs spread yelling, "Screw me you famous author." Okay, he had to admit she wasn't THAT obvious about it, but really, the young lady had not been the most subtle flirter he'd ever met. The flirting had only served to make Mort even more uncomfortable. What was it with these women? He couldn't even think straight every time they started that shit. As it was, Mort could barely go into the post office anymore.
The vet receptionist, Renada, had wanted him to set an appointment for Chico's cataract removal that Mort had been putting off for months. He suspected she was less concerned with his dog's deteriorated eye sight and more interested in staring at the owner.
'Why do they always look at me like that?'
Leaving the vet's office with a bottle of Pepto Bismol in hand, Mort hoped Chico wouldn't get sick anytime soon because he really didn't want to go back in there.
Mort drove to the little pet shop even though it was only half a block away.
'For God's sake, I used to jog every morning!' Mort recalled. Back when he and Amy were first married they'd always gone for a morning jog. Well, other than the days they'd decided to remain in bed and...
Mort shook his head and huffed softly.
"Good Morning, Mr. Rainey. What can I get for you?"
Mort jumped a little, not noticing he'd already walked into the pet shop.
"Um, hi, Mr..." Mort scrambled to remember the old man's name but came up blank. 'Now there's something new. Oh, wait, it's not.'
"Truple," the man supplied, his friendliness having taken an instant nosedive. "Haven't seen you in here for awhile."
"Mmm," Mort said by way of answer. Amy had always done most of Chico's shopping.
"Haven't seen Amy either," Truple said, letting the sentence hang there. Mort knew there was no way the old man hadn't heard about his separation from Amy, but it seemed like the shop keeper wanted to hear the news straight from the horse's mouth.
'Huh, but I'm more of an untalkative ass than a chatty horse these days,' Mort thought with an internal sneer.
"We're not together anymore. Amy and I split up," Mort said, feeling the same harsh pain he did every time he said the words.
"Oh, that's too bad. I'm sorry to hear that," said Truple, his words a touch too practiced sounding to be sincere.
"Yeah, thanks," Mort said quickly, looking away. "Listen, do you know what kind of food Am- uh, Chico eats?"
The stack and stacks of different bags crammed into the tiny store suddenly looked beyond confusing. He'd remembered tossing the empty bag away not a week ago but the name eluded him now. He couldn't even remember the colour.
'And the simple things are now beyond my reach.'
Seeing how totally and profoundly lost the man appeared, Mr. Truple gave Mort a long look before going to get the food. Mort noticed something in the man's eyes and if he didn't know better he thought it just might be pity.
"In the back. I'll get you the one Amy always bought for him, I mean the type Chico eats, the one you should buy for him."
'Yup, he actually feels badly for making you talk about the break up,' Mort concluded, listening as the old man nearly stumbled over his words.
Mort looked around while he waited. He looked at the two tanks full of little colourful fish, at the cages of birds. Some part of him wanted to grab the fish and throw them in the lake visible across the street, wanted to open the cage doors and let the birds fly away. Another part of him felt like it was too much effort to bother, maybe even too much effort to take his hands out of his jacket pockets where they limply rested.
He moved along to the cages of little furry animals. A little white bunny cringed in the corner of the cage as he passed by. At the end of the line of cages, in the corner, was a small cage with one very cranky looking rat inside.
'Maybe Truple's been feeding him Doritos and sandwiches,' Mort mused. He leaned forward to get a better look at the animal. The rat just sniffed and took off into its little house, glaring at the intruder from the safety of a tiny cardboard box.
"That's ol' Sandy," Truple explained, suddenly right behind Mort. Mort managed to jump significantly less this time, though he decided it was just wrong how silently the old man moved. "Your little rat wife took off, didn't she?"
"Excuse me?" Mort asked, before realizing Truple was addressing the rodent, not him.
"Used to use him for breeding. Him and the other rat, but she escaped last week. She must've squeezed out a hole chewed in the side of the old cage. Haven't seen her since. Probably taken up with some alley rat now," the old man said chuckling, totally oblivious to the way Mort was now frowning.
Mort leaned closer, his nose nearly pressed against the bars.
"You be careful there, Mr. Rainey. He's been a right bastard ever since she left."
"You don't say," Mort said, staring at the dark eyes that unblinkingly focused on him.
Tbc...
vanillafluffy: LOL! You totally reminded me of somthing my mom used to say when I was in my late teens and ate a steady diet of junk/convenience food. She'd holler, "You're going to be the first person in the 20th century to get scurvy!"