Disclaimer: I do not own anything from "Horton Hears a Who" Only name changes and my characters. I also mixed a few real named TV shows, which aren't mine either.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. Welcome to Chapter 2 of my story! I don't have much to say but read and review and enjoy! Thanks!

Motherly Visits

Nothing is worse than when someone constantly holds down the doorbell repeatedly. Diiiiing Doooooong. See what I mean? Just makes me want to haul up and punch their lights out. But the disaster of this whole thing is that I know exactly who this ringer is without even having to look. I flip over on my left side and gazed sleepily at the clock. 3:02 A.M. Shit. The doorbell continues to be pressed and I screamed, "Hold on!"

Why me? Why can't this woman leave me alone? I get up, grab my navy robe, and put it on. I run down the stairs two at a time and I'm still not able to get to the door before it rings one last, deadening time. I slowly open the door and what do I see? My mother and not a second late either. I see she dyed her fur again too. It looks like a soft cotton candy pink with light blue spots on her hands and feet. It would look pretty if her fur wasn't matted down and clumped on her skin. She looks more raggedy then a catter left out in the rain for weeks.

"Hi baby." She says.

"Hi mother." I know she's only here for one thing. Especially at three o'clock in the morning too. Drugs. She must have ran out of money and needs to 'borrow' some more. I wonder why that shit doesn't get old? Doesn't it start to taste nasty or something after awhile? But I guess if it didn't then the word 'addicted' and 'drugs' wouldn't be in the same sentence.

"Hows you been doing?" Ah. Drunk too? Sometimes she's too much.

"I'm doing fine mother. I think I should be asking you that though."

She coughs viscously for a few seconds then said, "Same old same old, baby."

"I bet."

Then she sits there and looks like she wants to come in. Then I realized that her Whoville keychain with her house key wasn't on her neck. She could've left it or missed placed it, I thought even though I was lying to myself. She never takes that keychain off unless she was evicted. Figures. I had already known that she must have been using that money for other, priorities, than bills.

"Baby?"

"Yes mother?"

"I know you probably already knew but…" She always does this. Always wants me to complete her thoughts, her dreams, her goals. She must be either deaf or stupid for not even considering whether or not I had any of my own. She wouldn't be the first nor the last. But sometimes you just say fuck it and make them figure it out. Unfortunately this was one of my days.

"No I don't know mother."

"Well, as you know, I was running on a tight budget these past weeks. I could barely afford the essentials and stuff. They seem to be cuttin' your pay check huh?"

"I haven't worked on a movie in ages so I'm on a fixed income now."

"Well, because of all these things, I couldn't keep up with my bills. So because I didn't have money for the third month, they evicted me."

I had already had known she was going to get to it eventually.

"I need a place to stay baby." She was already gathering her water falls for her deep hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry mother but I can't. It's a long story and it's three o'clock in the morning. I can lend you some money to stay in a motel." Her eyes lit up when I said 'money'. She didn't want to stay anyways all she wanted was some money to keep doing what she was doing before. It never fails.

"How much?" Can't she say thank you first? Bitch.

"How about three hundred? That should cover you until you figure out something permanent."

"Ok, that sounds good," she coughs again. "Thanks baby. I don't know what I would do without you." Not much.

I had gone back inside to grab my wallet. She prefers cash instead of checks. When I came back she was smoking a Portnew. After I gave it to her I leaned against a wall until I slid down on the floor. My house was dark and because my fur was mostly black and grey, I blended in.

Why did I keep doing this? Before I thought I was helping her but clearly I'm not. She is a lost cause, more than likely there isn't any hope. I wonder what druggies see? Pitch black probably. Ha-ha. I should know. I used to be one too. Ha-ha. Ha. But the difference between me and them is that my body all of a sudden hated it. It wouldn't let me take any more shots of nothing but good stuff. I've been clean for over 4 years and intend on staying that way too. I just hope my mother doesn't end up on the street. Dead.