A very very old short story:
It was a not-so-special day in October. It was one of those typical lazy Sunday’s; the kind where you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself, so you just turn into a couch potato, daydreaming about nothing. And that’s how my day went: it was aimless and lazy, and I enjoyed it.
My mother and brothers left the premises in the morning, off to go shopping at the FLEA market. Ugh. How grateful I was for the fact that my dad did not work on Sunday’s. For one, shopping was my mortal enemy—I absolutely loathed it. I mean, what’s the fun in sorting through thousands of clothing racks, only to find a shirt that ends up looking ugly on you anyway? I’d much rather eat a bundle of boogers. And another thing is, I was still sketched out about the flea market. A small part of me believed a large population of fleas resided in the area and I was not about to take any chances.
So my day was going pretty well on that not-so-special Sunday until doom literally knocked at my door.
“I need to go to the hardware store. Go get your jacket,” my Dad announced. I groaned audibly.
“Aw, man!” I whined. I did not get it—my mom would be home in fifteen minutes. Couldn’t he wait?
“It’ll only take a half an hour, I promise.” Pfft! More like a half an hour of H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS!
I grudgingly went along with him to the store and tried to make it the most annoying experience possible for him to end my torture sooner. I stomped about, huffed, and sucked my teeth continuously. I even ran through the humongous aisles screaming like a banshee, but he still would not budge.
Fortunately, it did only take a half an hour like he said, and before I knew it, I jetted down the sidewalk to my front door, ready to enter my sanctuary. There to greet me was my mother, propping the screen door opened for me and smiling warmly. A bit too warmly. I inspected her form, and discovered she grasped a small water dish made for an animal. She noticed where I was looking and quickly hid the object behind her back.
“New water dish for pepper,” she said with a weird grin on her face. I eyed her suspiciously.
“Why don’t you go into the kitchen? There’s some lunch on the table.” I shrugged and stepped inside. My stomach started to growl and the idea of eating some delicious grub caused me to disregard my mother’s wacky actions.
I entered the room and my gaze immediately darted to the table. Something was out of place—something was not right. Then it clicked. Right in the middle of the kitchen table was a big cardboard box. I briefly wondered who put it there: it was probably Bryan or Chris, those darn slackers. My mom would flip if she saw that box sitting on her precious table.
Being the good daughter that I was, I figured I’d move it for her to save us all from hearing her shrilly screams. I started to pick up the box, but it made a noise.
“Mew!” Something moved about on the inside, and it started to claw at the side. I looked at it, completely puzzled.
“What’s in the box?” I yelled for the whole house to hear.
“Why don’t you open it up, stupid?” Bryan retorted. I spun around and noticed him standing there with my parents and Chris. They seemed to be waiting in anticipation with knowing smiled. I felt like it was my birthday and everyone was just killing to see my reaction to the gift.
“Mew!” The box said again. My eyebrows rose. Maybe it was some electronic toy my mom picked up at the market for me. I began to open the topic of the box, excitement electrocuting me all over. What could it be? Would I like it?
I gasped out loud when I peeked inside. Peering back at me was the cutest thing in the world: a charming and sweet kitten. Orange brown stripes wrapped around its tiny body and its eyes stared at me in both fear and curiosity. My mouth stayed agape as I slowly wrapped my hands around it and picked it up as it made its small cat-like noises. I was speechless. I remembered asking for a kitten nearly two years ago when I was in kindergarten. I had pretty much given up hope on a feline companion. And no, there was one in my hand!
“You don’t like it?” My mom asked, concerned.
“No, I love her! Or him?” I replied immediately. I guess she expected me to jump around screaming like an idiot, kind of how I act around Christmas time when I rip apart a present. But right now, I was too surprised and pleased to do anything but stare.
“Her,” she said. I grinned. But then something occurred to me and the smile slowly started to fade…
“Mom, she doesn’t have fleas, right?” I said in a worried voice, holding the kitten a bit farther from me.
“Well, you did get her from the flea market,” I said, holding the kitten closer to my body now. A roar of laughter from everyone ensued. I rolled my eyes and turned back to my new friend.
I guess today was not a not-so-special Sunday after all.