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| Mark was a boy who wanted a pet. However, he hadn�t a clue which one he should buy. Actually, he didn�t even know if his parents would permit a pet, but he didn�t care. He figured that if he got a pet that was cute enough, his parents would just have to keep it. He set out, one fine morning, with the finest intentions of walking the forty blocks to the nearest pet market. But he got no further than three steps before Mrs. O�Hara came tumbling out of her garage, chasing after her tabby. Now this particular tabby cat was the only creature on earth that gave Mark second thoughts about owning a pet. Rather than own that bloody cat, Mark would tame an alligator and cobra at the same time while blindfolded! The tabby didn�t like Mark much either, and in a desperate move to express his dislike and escape Mrs. O�Hara�s tubby fingers, he lunged upon Marks chest, sinking his talon-like claws into his brand new shirt�and the pale skin beneath. With a yelp of pain, Mark staggered back and the tabby cat bolted across the street. Mark glanced down at his new shirt noticing through the small rips that blood was collecting as if beads of sweat. He touched his skin, leaving a smear of blood on his fingertips, and slowly raised his gaze to look Mrs. O�Hara in the eyes. �Why didn�t yooo stop me sweet lil tabbeh cat, lad? He jumped right op theer ta see yoo, und yoo didn�t grrab em? Tish pish- worthless lad!� Rolly polly Mrs. O�Hara, engulfed in her strong Northern UK accent, shoved past the wounded Mark, and waddled down the street after her sweet little tabby cat. With a giant sigh, poor Mark popped back home, changed into something clean, and dressed his wound. Then with spirits only slightly dampened, he marched off towards the pet shop. Trying to keep his mind off of the tabby cat, Mark began to whistle �I�m Henry the VIII� and skip with the beat. He passed a few couples out for a morning stroll but didn�t notice the peculiar look they managed to throw at him when they heard his whistling tune. Mark reached the end of the first block, looked both ways, and proceeded to tackle the next one. When Mark had only just taken his first step, from around a corner came a rumbling �67 Mustang with a V8 (of course) and duel-exhaust pipes. BAM! Mark had little time to wonder why he was sailing through the air before he abruptly hit the ground. Miraculously, he was all right, save the two giant grazes up both arms and down his shins. Oh well, had he been wearing pants, not shorts, then he would have ruined them as well, there was something good to think about. Hey, and he had managed to keep his shirt in tact too! Well, he had a few bruises and scrapes, granted, but nothing big enough to cut his pet quest short. MEOW! Mark screamed. Tabby launched. Shirt ripped. Blood ran. Mrs. O�Hara, furious that Mark failed to stop her tabby a second time, beat him several times with her purse before tumbling her tubby bulk after her kitty again. A bit flustered, Mark decided yet again to return home for a change of clothes and Band-Aids. Wearing the only outfit he had clean (A pink-ruffled Spanish-style shirt and white bellbottoms) he set out, yet again, in the general direction of the pet market. This time when he reached the spot of his near-fatal accident he sprinted across, only to stop at the other side, panting and heaving while bent over like a man with a walking stick. Well, speak of the devil! There he was, the man with a walking stick, staring at a broken parking meter. He smacked the meter a few times, but as it did nothing in response, he turned and looked over the street. Unfortunately, Mark was the first thing he saw. |
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| A Story Written By My Friend Jenn Longfield-Smith and me. It Has No Title Yet. :o) Enjoy. It's Long, But Read It Anyway! |
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