2. Eye Glasses

0545 hours outside set 4B on lot 17. A ghastly wind chilled the blue cat to the bone as he joined the ranks of his fellow actors waiting outside the studio. He could tell by the lack of expressions that despite him being the last to arrive, he was still too early for a decision to have been made.

Because of the nature of the show, he was the only real regular, so most of the actors were temps or tweeners, just supplementing their income or hoping to strike a chord with the directors to get a more permanent role. Thus the wait was a similar experience to standing in a stationary subway car. The more company you had, the lonelier you felt. No small talk, hushed chatter, not even the sound of texting. Just the occasional sound of the unwelcome blasts of wind.

No one dignified the sun with so much as a nod as it emerged to join in on the wait. Might have been safe to say that no one even noticed it was even there. As the knob turned, Furrball cringed, dreading the inevitable battle royale that would soon initiate.

"Everybody please settle down," the casting director ordered through a bullhorn, standing atop the studio. "We'll be needing the manager from the inn last episode and the leader of the dingoes. Those are my only guaranteed slots for now."

The crowd's silence was broken by a barrage of incoherent swearing.

"Okay, settle down. Settle down!" the bullhorn made an annoying feedback noise which proved more effective than the shouts. "I've got 19 male roles and 12 female roles for today's shooting. Target species today will be six big cats and four turtles. Good luck and make a hole, Let those two along with our star in."

Furrball felt a hint of guilt as he made his way to the studio door, feeling all eyes on him. He imagined many present had been lined up outside this and many other studios for months, hoping to land a break while he was just handed a starring role the day he asked for it. The balance of fairness… it just never seemed even.

"Why the hell didn't you use the back entrance?" Surprisingly, a step up from Sylvester's standard greeting, which was culminated with a barrage of nonsensical insults or self-promotion. "We can't afford some jealous hack to do s-s-s-something dras-s-s-s-tic to you on your way to work.

Furrball didn't dignify this with a response, striding past the older cat to the coffee maker. Sylvester had volunteered to assist with the show until a network bought at least a season. His concern was more for himself than Furrball, or so the blue cat suspected. He rubbed his jaw as he poured himself a cup. Sylvester seemed oblivious to the significance of the gesture. Downing the coffee in a single gulp, Furrball made his way to the airbrushing room.

"So basically, long story short, yeah we'll buy the first season. 12 episodes; but only on one condition," the PD turned around in his chair, facing the window. He had a fine view of …streets. Furrball stood patiently waiting for the stipulations, knowing full well that the dramatic pause was for the man to feel that he possessed more power than he really did.

"You're to meet with a head shrinker," the PD announced suddenly, causing Furrball to look up. "You'll need to convince us that you're mentally stable enough to take the stress of a starring role in a serial."

Furrball blinked a few times, trying to let the news seep in. The PD turned his chair around, revealing a business card. The cat reluctantly took it from the man's hand and studied it. M-ar-y M-elo-die?

Mellow Die?

"Recognize her name?" The PD grinned through his capped teeth. "You went to school together, so you should. She's really looking forward to seeing you again. Anyways, I've scheduled you for an appointment at noon today, so get going. Her office is on the 13th floor. Tenth door on your right. Can't miss it."

Furrball looked back at the business card, struggling to read it correctly so he'd have a better idea of who the PD was talking about.

"Go on," the PD hit a buzzer, causing the door to open. "Shoo! Don't wanna be late, do ya?"

Furrball stopped a few steps shy of the door. He recognized the letters on the door as the same as the letters on the business card. Glancing at his watch he found he had four minutes to spare. His reading disability was starting to become a real nuisance. Immediately, his thoughts turned to his young charge at home. Perhaps he also had a disability. Some odd mutation of dyslexia, maybe? It was possible, but Catonese is without a writing system which would make it something else entirely. But what caused him to screw up his word order? He'd never heard of that in a mother tongue before.

The cat was so deeply lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the door open right before him.

"You know, they told me you were comin' and sure as you're standin' there I still can't believe it!"

Furrball blinked his eyes into focus and fought against his instinct to make an exaggerated shocked expression. He actually had forgotten about Mary over the years, despite their brief, albeit meaningful history. Humans aged differently, he surmised, thinking back to Montana Max. The only physical feature he recognized about Mary was her yellow ribbon. The rest of her was… grown up. As the cat's eyes met the doctor's, a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

Furrball followed Dr. Melodie into her office. It wasn't much, just a small room with a few full bookcases and a huge couch. On the west wall, he could see a number of diplomas and certificates. He started to tense up until he saw a great deal of photographs and cells from their old serial on the adjacent wall, a few even featuring him. Quite a few, actually.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the couch so we can get started, eh?"

Furrball turned his attention back to Dr. Melodie. She was sitting on an easy chair, holding a legal pad. He took a breath and relented, plopping down on the coach, as he'd seen others do on TV in Professor Fudd's Clichés 201 class back in the day.

"If you still don't feel comfortable speaking English, I took five years of Catonese in college," Mary explained.

Furrball raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It was interesting! Anyways, we're not here to talk about me. This'll be the first of five sessions to satisfy your company's requirements for a psychological evaluation. Do you understand?"

I understand they didn't give a damn about me until after all the damage was done.

"How does that make you feel? Do you resent feeling used?"

Furrball started to sweat as his eye dilated. Apparently her Catonese was on the level.

C-can you speak it, too?

Dr. Melodie smiled sadly, shaking her head. "Can't produce the right amount of tones for it, even after five years of trying. That used to screw up my self-esteem when I was an undergrad. Would you mind tell me how you've coped with your struggles with English over the years? "

…

The novelty of turning the key to unlock his very own door never wore off for Furrball. Sometimes he indulged his id, locking and unlocking it many times like a kid playing with a light switch. As the feline opened his front door, a sense of longing overcame him. His first session had been mentally vexing; a definite change of stress from his typical worries. He'd delved into transitioning from life on the street to domesticating himself and had a number of new ideas and concepts he hadn't previously considered floating around in his head, none of which were of much comfort.

The blue cat hated the fact that he'd made his adoptee a latchkey kitten so quickly, but options were limited until the check cleared. Besides, Furrball knew in his heart for all the things Sparkz embodied, it was his ability to fend for himself that had kept him alive all this time. It was this exact thought at the exact time he stepped into the den that caused Furrball to be caught unawares by the damage he witnessed.

Had the dwelling been more lavishly furnished, Furrball might have blown a gasket. Shredded drapes lay strewn out across the room. Cotton and dander made what was left of the carpet seem like it been in a blizzard. The couch was damaged beyond repair with multiple claw marks ranging from superficial to excessively deep. If it had been someone else's sofa, Furrball may have been impressed at the fact that one-clawed creature was able to do all this destruction. Rounding the corner, the blue cat found the young culprit shivering in a ball on the floor. Furrball knelt next to Sparkz, a wave of horrible memories flooding his mind. He, himself had done something similar when he was around that age to a family that had tried to "adopt" him.

Frustrated?

Sparkz opened his eyes and glanced up for a brief moment, refusing to look Furrball in the eye. Furrball knew all words would be perceived as hollow, sarcastic or condescending. Disappearing into his bedroom, Furrball returned with his violin case. A small voice in the back of his head advised him against taking the violin out. Sparkz was curled up in a corner in the fetal position sobbing inaudibly. The scene was almost too much for Furrball. Bad déjà vu. He wordlessly plopped down next to the kitten. As he contemplated his next move, the cat had an epiphany. The missing part of his ear… it was- …No, he wouldn't be selfish at this time. He should be focused on Sparkz.

Shaking his head, Furrball braced himself just before stroking the distraught one's head. Just as he had anticipated, the smaller feline sprung to life, sinking his needle-sharp claws into… nothing, as Furrball caught his wrist just in time. Sparkz recoiled, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, awaiting the retaliation. It never came.

Wae an deryeosseo?

Furrball cocked his head, clearly confused.

Me hit! Fast! Now me hit!

Sparkz was in somewhat of a trance.

Fast! Go, go go go go go go!

He banged the ground with every word. Furrball had to physically restrain him before he broke a bone. Thus began the struggle. As strong as Sparkz was for his age, however, he would prove no real match for his adoptive father. Furrball managed to pin the kitten to the floor until he felt the young one's energy give out.

Why? Why you not hit?

Furrball let go of him and sat up. He pointed to his ear.

Nobody knows how I got this. Even I forgot about it for the longest time.

Sparkz collected himself, sitting up, his curiosity piqued.

It was the first time I stayed with a family in a house when I was young. Younger than you, probably. The first night I was there, I had a bad dream. When I woke up, everything around me was completely trashed. I guess they call that sleep walking or night terrors or both, maybe.

Sparkz finally managed to look at Furrball's face, but avoided his eyes.

They kicked me out right then and there. I remember feeling sick to my stomach. I felt so guilty. I hated myself so much. So anyways, I was walking on the street and I came across this big piece of broken glass.

Sparkz's eyes widened and Furrball swallowed hard before continuing.

I kept thinking… I don't deserve another shot, ya know? I just don't deserve it. So I picked up the glass.

The front door rumbled a bit and opened. Fifi entered the den to find the cats sitting against the wall. Overriding her instinct to overreact, she put her trust in the blue cat who held up a finger, motioning for her to wait.

I did it. I tried to end it all. I tried to put the glass through my eye. But I flinched the first time, and caught my ear.

Furrball could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn't care. Sparkz noticed it, but said nothing.

The second time, I waited a few minutes to focus on stabbing straight. But just at the last second, I thought I saw something in that glass. I didn't know what, but it was enough to mess up my aim for the second time. After that, I can't remember anything. I think I woke up in a vet's office or something.

What you saw?

In the glass? You'll probably just laugh.

I won't.

It's corny. I really don't have any visual memory of it.

What it was?

I guess it was like… hope.

Hope? What?

It's the reason you get up in the morning. It's that little glimpse of something so great that it makes you happy just thinking about it. It's… well, it is what it is.

I… see.

I'm not going to hit you, Sparkz. I never am. I know why you did this. I was you. I can replace a couch. Not a kitten.

Sparkz's cool exterior snowballed in a blizzard of tears. He allowed Furrball to embrace him and they sat, for a time, rocking back and forth. Fifi cautiously approached as Sparkz drifted off to sleep and carried him to his bedroom. As she closed the door, Furrball was leaning against the wall, a wily expression on his face.

"What?" she mused.

"J-j-just th-thinking about my l-luck, is all," he explained. "Y-you must be the only f-female that wouldn't fr-fr-fr-eak out at the kid who d-destroyed the d-den."

"That couch was old anyways," she answered with a smile. "Didn't really sit well with the décor in the first place, either."

Furrball laugh and kissed Fifi on the cheek.

"L-let's order in t-tonight, ok?"

End- Part 2

Why, oh why hasn't he proposed yet? My apologies for the tasteless pun for the name of this chapter. Everything's funny at 0400 hours.