Page 18 of Hate You Later
So, what else is on tap for you this evening, then? Planning any home piercings?
Tattoos, actually. I thought I’d tattoo a big heart with your name on it across my left butt cheek, and it’s going to say: ‘I heart Chonky Cats.’
Oh, dear. Do Boxers even have butt cheeks? I do hope you are taking precautions to sterilize everything.
Good point, Furball. I guess I won’t be inking your name on my furry bottom after all. Actually, my owner is putting on a movie. Something about a podcast she heard earlier. Pride something?
You aren’t referencing Pride and Prejudice, are you?
Uh … maybe?
I look at the search results that come up. That Jane Austen book is popular! There are at least a dozen movies and mini-series versions to choose from. Or, I could just watchVikings, I think, missing my nightly Ragnar time already. Why did I have to pickPride and Prejudice? Jane Austen isn’t particularly edgy. Why hadn’t I told him I was watching a horror film? That would have been much more in keeping with Cookie’s voice and would certainly get more of a rise out of Oliver. Stay in character, Cookie, I remind myself. He’s typing a response.
Well I certainly hope you are watching the 1996 BBC production with Colin Firth. As far as we are concerned, there really is no other modern production that quite does the book justice.
I click on the information button next to the BBC version’s thumbnail. Four episodes? Six hours? I might as well read the book. Hard pass. And then I see the perfect title. Just what I need.
Actually, we’ll be watchingPride and Prejudice and Zombies, Oliver. Have you seen it?
Zombies? Oh, my. I don’t think I have seen it. And here I thought I’d seen every modern film version of thePride and Prejudiceoeuvre.
Oeuvre? Did he really just type the word oeuvre? For the hundredth time, I wonder who the human behind the voice of Oliver really is. I want more. Ineedmore. I fish for a clue.
Um … Oliver. Can I ask you something personal?
That depends. A gentleman has his secrets.
What’s an oeuvre?
It’s a body of work.
Yeah, I know. But I can’t believe you just used it in casual conversation. Will you take my SATs for me, Oliver?
You know I would never stoop to participate in such a sordid deception, Cookie.
Ok, but how about your owner? Would he?
I wait and hold my breath as the three dots come and go again. There are no explicit challenge rules about not talkingaboutyour humans. You just can’t speak AS your humans. Surely we can reveal some minor details without giving up our real identities? I had deliberately called Oliver’s owner a “he.” At the very least, I’m about to suss out if my assumptions are correct about that.
What makes you so sure my owner is a man?Oliver calls me on my play.
Well, you called your place a bachelor pad.
And your owner, Cookie? I’m assuming she is a she?
Oh yeah, she is, Oliver. She’s as badass as I am, and we like to party together.
This is true if you include watching Netflix and eating SpaghettiOs from a chipped mug while wearing old sweats and a Joy Division Concert tee in your definition of partying.
Ah … well, my owner is indeed of the male persuasion, Cookie.
I compose my next question and then tap my fingers slowly and wickedly, considering it for a moment before I commit.
So, Oliver, would you describe him as hot?
Asking Oliver whether he had a hot owner is totally something that a direct, in-your-face Cookie would ask, right? It isn’t like I, Georgia Starr, am sending a so-what-are-you-wearing text, is it? Honestly, I feel about twelve years old right now.
I take a deep breath, hit send, and squeeze my eyes shut. He pings back immediately, and I open one eye to read.
