CairoKittydat Full story

Late October during the paranoid twilight. Running is an exhaustion. Pseudo-freedom fighter of the outskirts and skimming. The ice blue concoction, psychedelic and alcoholic; parabola vitale, an illicit sublimation. Samantha of the regeneration. Histories witness becoming the temporal victim. The bottle emptied. She threw the fallen soldier into the trash. She waited and watched.Something foreign she didn't comprehend. Practicing her self importance she lied well enough that she believed it made sense. It didn't matter how inebriated, her organs would regenerate with expedience. Her eternal adaptation.A noise, either a really lazy burglar or an animal. Or the authorities had found her lair of absentia. She'd been a fugitive for a decade. Ten years under the influence. She should investigate. Her contact computer amplified ambiant light. Augmented reality of 2222 an ominous age. Silent and stealth she approached the source of sound.A cat! Not just a cat a tiger trolling the trash. She got eye level or as close as possible. It was just a cub. She smiled and dissappeared to the makeshift kitchen. Deciding on something feline and delicious, she hoped. Steak. She knew of no rational animal that feared the mighty cow.She returned and spoke melodically (or she hoped) in what she believed was a friendly voice:"Stranger are you hungry? I'm guessing you wouldn't be scavenging otherwise. "Samantha held out the raw steak. A timid bengal approached. All it would take is a sudden movement to send the cub away. It slowly clenched the cow."Sweetie come over here........" she did her best maternal impression.The cub crawled into her lap, "An angel in the architecture. I you know I might have a place for you to bed down. If you're nice I may even adopt. You're to be called Cairo." a sandpaper tongue greeted her.
Morningdark, the predawn by proxy approximation. Samantha made some truckers coffee. She'd had another God awfull, something about a vague cat. She scrolled to the video message from Tim on her contact computer."Shit, Sam. When will you realise we're omnipresent. Kings."" When will you realise Dextromethorphan is for coughs?" she pandered simultaneous.Fuck, you're in the glass house honeybee! But then again at least she knew she was in the glass house unlike Tim. What was she doing weighing the poisons? Choose your poison, mines greater than yours. Semantics. The bathroom sensor light was active. What the , must be the re occuring malfunction. She sought to alleviate the ghetto light. Piece of shit. On her ninja stealth approach she caught the culprit. IT was the Bengal cub from her "dream" ! Shit it must have been reality in dream disguise, again. "Now where's your manners? I'll buy you a golden bowl. Come! my ........Cairo!" she laughed.The indifferent Bengal yawned. Oh boy, this was gonna be a day of it the variables and adaptations! The random reality. Running became a freedom. "Then again you'll probably still prefer the toilet even if I buy you a diamond encrusted platinum bowl. Aristocat be damned!" Cairo, wandered to her welcoming hand. The cub tried purloining a chunk of flesh! "Baby, must be teething!" the bengal played paw pattycake with Samanthas outstreched hands. " You envy the digits? Well I can't accomodate you there............." Dawn broke, raped. God she hated the morn............


The shack was down from the commons. Samantha makeshifted a leash, it was time for a sabbatical at sunrise. She was sly in convincing Cairo the cub into the leash with the promise of tuna. She'd have to make good was the realisation. A feeling dawned that baby probably had an appetite. The bengal cub who'd arrived trolling trash in the twilight. Her adoptive project. It was perfect wear out the tiger and the teething would cease. Little did she realise the tenacity of Tiger. In addition the logistics of disguise. She could hardly go for a constitutional in a public park with an endangered kitten. No matter how kewl the cat. She had a friend at the meat market who owed her a favor. It was a symbiotic deal. They were both wanted and ageless. The water dish drained near instantaneously with the tongue. Motherhood was intimidating. She hardly remembered her own mother. Sometimes she doubted the image in her mind was even mom; it could have been a juxtapose of ideal mom. I mean Samantha was a child over a thousand years ago. At least she guestimated. It was like the memories of history, she often figured her interpretation was a mix of reality and revision . She wondered if there was a degree of amnesia. Her memories of 1890 were actually the fictionalized / modernized versions of some semblance of reality. Cairo was properly fitted in makeshift cloak. Red velvet. "Little red riding hood, you'll be a good errr..... baby boy. No.... what the hell do tiggers do growl? Roar, no your too young for a roar." she held cairo to her face. Sandpapering ensued. An inadvertant french kiss.
Samantha was utterly bored as the day wained down. After the nocturnals aftermath day was dull. None the less she had a new project, a new prospect; a Bengal cub whom took his apparent hometowns namesake, Cairo. The baby was fully needy and why not? She remember experienced the feline perspective. Something to meditate.The messages were innocent and not so life changing. Her fellow ageless had extended an arm of his syndicate, strategically placing a key member in charge of seventy underlings under the tutelage of underbosses. The latest prospect involved buying councilors in the new american district who could subsequently turn a blind eye. He had his enforcers who oversaw the families of said city councilors anonymously, garnish the wages of the family member in blackmail or bribe.

Today was tommorrow like yesterday. She'd wander in dormant potential, the century long what if? Potential was everywhere and everything, the pencil in her pocket was a murder weapon as well as the tool to author the revolutions. The people on this bus could be the core of a brave new world or the fourth reich. As could every person you passed on the street. The bus driver may well be the messiah, or a fat slub. Basically she didn't know what the fuck to do and was too damn lazy to do anything. Some grandpa whined about respect and age or some shit. Age isn't a respector. It's earned. An old asshole is an old asshole. A hundred year old dumbass is still a dumbass. Just because people have had the time doesn't mean they've HAD the time. Or gained a damn thing.