Hittin' The City
HIttin' The City
I awoke late in the day; the sun's lazy golden touch cascaded low across the rolling hills and peaks of our concrete valley, and time was all but lost to me as I pulled myself from my ruffled bedding and collapsed to the floor. Had I some integral role to play in society's labor force, I might have tinted with a vague feeling of guilt at my late arrival to a conscious state, but as it was, I sensed no presence of the afore mentioned sensation. I wandered from my room in an aimless drift- lost at what to do with the last few precious hours of fading daylight and distraught at what sinister plans my body held for me in the coming hours of the evening. A night filled with wonders and consequences- the thriving underbelly of Acme City; down trodden and lost to the sweaty beat of techno music and alcohol. Hidden away from the rich elixir of daylight's safely, it drowned itself in the flavored sin of steamy curves and smoldering tastes of dizzying substances. There could be no boredom there, no stagnation or depression of sweet smelling suburbia; complete with it's glittering perfect families and well kept lawns. That was the place boredom went to die. The place sin was harvested and served freshly on a nightly basis. A horrible place- my place.
I paraded myself downstairs, listening to the echoing groans and shuddering steps of the staircase beneath my toes. There was no one to pay my presence regard. Work had stolen my parents away into the far reaches of the night once again. No mother to take up arms against my rebelling nature, or father to dote upon me for waking in the last drawn breath of the day's corpse. I grit my teeth with a trembling sigh and peered into the darkness of the living room upon my descent of the stair case. The house seemed empty and quiet, or so I thought. The rattling blast of an explosion in relatively close proximity instantly disproved my theory, and the fur on my back lurched into standing position. It took no genius level intellect to surmise the source of such a radiant outburst of light and heat, and quickly the culprit stomped angrily into view.
Culprits.
The door to the laboratory burst open in a violent swing, and my sibling appeared; caked in soot and finely dusted in the heavy scent of burning fur, ash, sulfur and smoke. A Calamity of a coyote, whom was quickly followed by an equally disheveled youngster, whom also shared a fashion sense of similar tastes; showered in a deep shadow of ash and dirt, he seemed to scowl in his very movements. The two of them spoke volumes without a word passing between them and tossed me no heed in their trek from the laboratory to the kitchen. There, the canines proceeded with the family tradition of milk and cookies after an explosion- chocolate chips this time, with the bowl sitting between them, and a thin glass of milk on either side of the table.
The squabbling started after a few bleak moments of peace. Fingers were pointed, and voices were raised, with sputtering chunks of delicious confectionery dancing across the kitchen table. Mingling between too much dynamite having been used and improper application of a self destruct button, I made my presence known with the liberal function of my air-horn which I kept for such occasions. They stared at me, and I offered a relatively simplistic choice.
I cared little for their jabbering arguments or wanton display of destruction and simply stood before them with a cool glimmering look an elder sibling of my stature tended to admit. The concept was simple. I was going to go out tonight, and the two of them needed to keep quiet about it.
Or I would kill Santa.
The look that crept upon Chaos' face was a priceless example of childhood trauma that would last for years, but Calamity seemed less convinced. Towards him did I then turn, my lips twisting into a gruesome sneer like some sick and twisted demon was attempting to chew it's way from my neck. I regarded him with the disdain one might regard a cockroach and drew myself to my full height, towering over him. An older sibling required an older approach- twas a simple mathematical equation. Calamity would feel no restraint and I had little to spare.
"If they find out I was gone, I will try and smother you with a used tampon. I may murder you. I may not. But the point is I'm going to try. " I whispered and delighted when the look of horror Chaos currently experienced instantly transferred to Calamity. Convinced I had given him no reason to doubt my cruelty, I skipped from the kitchen humming Kesha's 'Tick Tock' leaving their argument scattered like ashes across the floor. I had phone calls to make and a certain kitty to drag into the coming night with me. I was going to hit the city.