Walking The Kitten

Cast of Characters:

Me:  The foolish little Cajun girl who, despite trying hard, can’t keep her mouth shut nor can she fight very well.  Never backs down, but most often ends up being carried out.

Her:  The arrogant, slutty and oh-so-fine English girl who loves to torment me.  She can’t keep her mouth shut either, but she actually can back up her words.  Of course, she is my nemesis, the lovely Gemma Rox

Him:  He is still with me.  He’s my long-suffering boyfriend who is now at the mercy of three domineering women.  The poor sap’s name is still Joe.

Kitten:  The beautiful, but slightly deranged, play pet of the vicious…but oh-so-hot…crime lord Boche.  Joe rescued her from the clutches of the evil Emma Fox (Jenn Peccavi) and now she is a thorn in my side.

Anna the Marine:  She wants to do nothing but tend her flowerbeds and win “Yard of the Month” awards.  Of course we find a way to screw all that up for her.

Joanne the Jogger:  The drop-dead-gorgeous blonde who luvs to wrestle.  She makes the mistake of running down the same street we’re on.  Of course we pay for her mistake.

Tina the Trooper:  The bitchy cop who used to date Joe.  She blames me for their breakup, and she really wants to make me pay.  She even says that.



The days since we got back from our confinement at the hands of the mysterious Emma Fox (Jenn Peccavi) were starting to run together as the events of the past moved farther and farther away.  The first few days following the escape were filled with apprehension.  We had no idea what had become of Jenn Peccavi and her right hand man, Boche.  We heard nothing from them and we quietly went back into our normal lives as the days passed.  Well about as normal as they were going to be.  While my injuries healed, Gemma moved in to ‘help.’  By ‘help,’ she meant help Joe with his perverted sexual fantasies.  There wasn’t much I could do while I was on crutches.  As soon as Joe would leave, she would torment me by pushing me down or tripping me any chance she got.  I had stitches in my forehead where Peccavi hit me with a drinking glass.  Gemma would take delight in rubbing salt into it whenever she walked by me.  That bitch is just plain evil.  But as bad as Gemma is, she isn’t the worst of my problems.

The worst of my problems is also one that torments Gemma (THAT is funny to me, btw).  That problem is the Kitten we brought home for safekeeping.  Now kittens are cute little creatures that are usually welcome in any home (except ours…I’m allergic) but this Kitten is different.  How different, you ask?  Well, the first thing you notice is that I call her Kitten instead of “a kitten.”  This kitten is a 5’6” 120 lbs of beautiful sexuality.  Only you don’t notice the beauty because she is totally nuts.  She was Boche’s “pet Kitten.”  He led her around on a leash!  Before the others escaped Jenn Peccavi’s clutches, Boche made Joe agree to take care of Kitten and he would bring me home safely in exchange.  Both kept their end of the bargain, but Boche disappeared after he dropped me on the sidewalk in front of our house.  Now we’re stuck with a pet Kitten.  We can’t put her on the street, because Boche is the biggest crime lord in the Southeastern US, Canada, and the Caribbean.  The repercussions could be too great to comprehend.

Finally my cast came off and the wounds on my head and face healed.  Gemma is still a bitch, and Kitten is still a weird little psycho.  Joe tries his best to keep peace between us, but there’s only so much a man alone can do.  Gemma and I have gotten into at least ten full-blown brawls since the cast came off and Kitten loves to jump in when we’re fighting.  Most often she’ll ball up and cry when we turn our attention to her, but sometimes she comes out on top.  Once she managed to tie Gemma and me to chairs in the kitchen until Joe came home.  She left the house while we were bound and Joe followed the trail of destruction until he found her with two 18 year old girls pinned underneath her a couple streets over.  It seems Kitten likes to flirt with boys washing their cars and beat up their girlfriends when they complain.  Joe managed to convince the girls not to call the police because all the witnesses said the girls started the fight anyway.

As a result, Joe made Gemma and me agree to a truce.  No more fighting until something could be done about Kitten.  Gemma voted to have her spayed.  I voted to have her euthanized.  Joe overrode both us and made us promise to keep a closer eye on her.  

So Gemma and I were stuck babysitting a Kitten.  To make matters even worse, Kitten is one of those people who whines constantly.  Nothing makes her happy.  Fix her something to eat and it’s either too hot or too cold.  If you’re watching something on tv, she doesn’t like it.  The temperature is either too hot or too cold in the house.  She likes the swimming pool behind the house.  But the elderly man that lives next to us recently had a heart attack while mowing his backyard.  Joe thinks his infarction had something to do with the fact that Kitten likes to sunbathe topless.  Hell, Gemma and I like to do that too!  But we don’t like to bounce on the diving board topless, but Kitten does.  Now she’s complaining that she never gets any fresh air.  I told Gemma that I was going to get a pistol and make a new vent for air in her forehead.  Gemma stopped me before I reached the gun….probably not because she was worried about Kitten’s safety, but because she was worried that I’d shoot her next.  She’s probably right.

But what to do?  Kitten is still whining.  Gemma is still being a bitch.  If I don’t do something soon, I may just go walk in front of a bus.  The thought of murdering Joe for bringing all these idiots into my house becomes a viable option.  But I can’t do that, as big a jerk as he is, I do love him.  I finally make a decision, and I pray that it won’t backfire on me.  “Gemma, lets take Kitten for a walk.  If she doesn’t shut up soon, I’m gonna shove her through a window.”

Gemma ponders this idea for a moment before replying, “You remember what happened the last time she got loose, right?”

I sigh, “Of course, but we can’t keep her in here all day.  She’ll drive us crazy.  We can keep a close eye on her.  Hell, we’ll even put Boche’s collar on her and take a leash with us.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

I regret that comment by the end of the day.

Gemma tells Kitten to get dressed for a walk.  I knew we should have watched her, but we live and learn.  Her walking attire consisted of a black halter-top bikini, cutoff blue jean shorts and tennis shoes without socks.  I knew right then this was going to be a long afternoon.  While Gemma and I looked at each other in amazement at the younger girl’s audacity, she put her hair in a ponytail, slipped on a pair of sunglasses and announced she was ready.

I nodded slightly to Gemma as the brunette walked toward the door, and Gemma fell in behind her.  Just before Kitten could touch the doorknob, Gemma slid a heavy black leather choker collar around the taller girl’s throat and the fight was on.

“What the fuck!”  Kitten exclaimed.  “Let me go, you fucking bitch!”

While Gemma struggled to latch the collar, I wrapped my arms around Kitten so she couldn’t wrestle away.  We almost tumbled to the floor, but Kitten eventually realized that Gemma and I were fighting her.  She wasn’t helping one of us gang up on the other.  After a brief struggle and a severe tongue lashing that would make a sailor proud, Kitten relented and allowed the collar to be latched.  She relaxed even more and giggled that she would be “a good girl” if we let her walk on her own.  At the first sign of trouble, though, the leash was snapping on.

Already breathing heavily from exertion, Gemma and I led the way from the house.  We fell into a nice rhythm as we strolled down the street.

Except for the fact that Kitten was dressed like a whore, and Gemma is just a fucking bitch, I started to believe that maybe this was a good idea.  The day was wonderful!  This was one of those late autumn afternoons that made living in New Orleans bearable.  The air was cool for the Deep South and there was a soft breeze blowing in off the Gulf rattling the palm fronds and there was a touch of salt in the air.  There were storm clouds building far off toward Texas, but that wouldn’t be a problem until later tonight.  Right now, it was just about perfect!  Maybe a little fresh air and an invigorating walk would be good for all of us.

Even Kitten was behaving herself.  She was enjoying her little stroll.  She smiled at children when the passed and nodded to the adults….who looked away when they noticed her attire and the heavy choker collar.  But she just smiled and eventually developed a bounce in her step that told Gemma and me that she was enjoying herself.  Heck, even Gemma and I started a conversation that didn’t include the words “bitch, cunt, whore, slut, etc.  She told me about her life in Wales and I told her about growing up in bayou country.  We even shared a laugh.  Before long, the miles started slipping away.

We rounded the corner and Kitten drew up sharply and said, “Wow!”  Wondering what she saw, I looked ahead and saw a very well manicured yard complete with wonderful landscaping.  It had some of the most beautiful flowers to be seen in suburban New Orleans.  Kitten was completely in awe of the dazzling colors and the sheer beauty.

We began walking again and as we got closer to the yard, I saw a sign announcing that this yard was the “Yard of the Month.”  I also saw a woman working hard in one of the flower gardens.  Kitten saw her too.

“I love your flowers,” Kitten said as we passed by.  The woman looked up from her work and gave us the old once over before replying, “Thanks.”

She got up and started walking toward us and said, “I’m very proud of my yard.  Gardening and landscaping is a great way to relieve stress.  I’ve won yard of the month for seven straight months.”

Kitten looked at her in awe, “You did all this yourself?”

The woman looked very proud and said, “Yep.  It’s not too difficult…just a little hard work and elbow grease.  I learned my work ethic in the Marine Corps.”

Kitten smiled at the woman and exclaimed, “Wow!  You were in the Marines?  So was her boyfriend!”  She nodded towards me.  “He’s kind of nice, but most Marines I’ve met were assholes.”

The woman got the strangest look on her face and she turned to me, “Your boyfriend was in the Corps?”

I stop staring at Kitten with my mouth agape and look at the woman…I mean really look at her…she’s about five inches taller than me and a little heavier.  But she looks incredibly strong.  She also looks incredibly pissed.  But before I can apologize, she says, “My name is Anna.”

I blush deep red because she hasn’t stopped staring at me.  I look into her deep brown eyes and respond, “I…I’m Joni.  This is Gemma and ah, Kitten.”

“Kitten, huh?  I guess that explains the collar.”

“What does that mean?”  Kitten asks leering at the other woman.

“Oh nothing…nothing at all.  It was nice meeting you.  I’ve got to get back to work now.”

The woman named “Anna” turns to walk away.  But before she gets back to her gardening, Kitten yells, “Hey Bitch!  Thanks for the fucking flowers!”

To my astonishment, Kitten storms into a flowerbed, kicks over several bushes, tramples flowers and rips several bulbs from a Magnolia tree.  Then she grabs a big handful of Louisiana Irises and runs down the street.  “Kitten!!!!  What the fuck are you doing?!!!”  I scream, but the giggling girl in about half a block away.  I stare after her just as I get tackled from behind.

“You fucking bitches will pay for that!”  Anna yells as she starts punching and slapping me.  She straddles me and manages to pin my arms under her knees.  Gemma…God bless her dark little heart…comes to my rescue, but Anna the Marine keeps me pinned underneath her knees, grabs Gemma’s waistband and pulls her into a wicked elbow deep in her stomach.  The English girl exclaims, “Fuck!!!” as the air is driven from her lungs, and Anna begins making us regret our walk.

I’ve said it before, and I’m not ashamed to say it again….Gemma is the fighter that I’m not.  But we quickly learn that we may be outclassed against Anna the Marine.  Not that either of us would back down, quite the contrary.  Jenn Peccavi (aka Emma Fox) described me as having “a smart-mouth that would drive a nun to murder.”  And, like I’ve said before, Gemma is just a bitch.  And a crazy bitch at that!  But Anna obviously takes her gardening seriously, and I was apparently the easiest target.  “Why are you attacking me?!!!”
“Because you’re the ring leader of your little group of miscreants!”
“But she did it, not me!”
“You should have had that leash on the fucking retard!”
“Hey…she’s not retarded…just submissive.”
“Then you two suck as dommes.”

Anna keeps me pinned and she and Gemma trade punches.  Gemma isn’t faring any better than I am, and soon she is pinned on top of me.

“Ugh…let me go, bitch!”
“Not until you pay for these damages.”
“But we didn’t do anything!”
“Then you stay here until your sorry little friend comes back.”
“Let us go!”

While Anna had her attention squarely on Gemma and me, she didn’t notice that Kitten had snuck back behind the houses and behind her.  Fortunately for us, Kitten wasn’t in the mood to play ‘pile-on.’  Unfortunately for Anna, Kitten was carrying a five-pound bag of triple 13 fertilizer.  Anna was oblivious to her presence until the bag struck her in the back of the head.  Her eyes rolled back briefly and then she collapsed in a heap beside us.  We were free, and we ran like scared children.

We went a few blocks and finally stopped to check for any pursuit.  We didn’t see anyone so took a minute to catch our breaths.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”  Gemma glares angrily at Kitten.
“What?  I just wanted to pick some flowers for Joe.  He’s been good to me.”

“Are you insane?”  I add, just to be saying something.
“Most likely, but that was fun!”
“Fun?!!!  She nearly beat the crap out of us!  Now we have to walk an extra three miles home, you stupid cunt!”
“Fuck you!  I just wanted some flowers,” Kitten says as tears form in her eyes.  I now feel like a heel.
“Well, we’re going to have to find some way to pay her back for the damages.”
“Screw her, she tried to beat you two up.”
“Yeah, well, she could have you arrested.”
“She won’t.  She’ll try to find us.  She was a ‘Marine,’ you know (snickers).”
“Yeah, well, you’re getting the leash for the trip home.”
“No!  Please don’t!  I’ll be good!”

Gemma stares at her for a moment and finally says, “You said that earlier.  Now it’s the leash.”

Gemma leans forward to snap the leash on the collar’s hook and Kitten bolts upright and starts to run.  However, I was anticipating this move (strange that I finally anticipated anything, right?) and I tackle her to the ground.  After a brief struggle…and an elbow to the forehead….we manage to latch the leash.  Another moment of coaxing Kitten onto her feet, and we’re on our way.

We obviously can’t go back the way we came.  That would most likely be a poor move health-wise, so we trek the long way home.  After a few minutes, Kitten stops sulking and starts enjoying her little stroll.  She and Gemma are playing a warped little game of tug-o-war.  Kitten will walk as far as the leash will allow her away from us and Gemma will pull her back with a sharp tug.  Each time, Kitten will let out a little gasp and whimper, “Bitch.”  Gemma smiles whenever she does.

I keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see Anna the Marine round the corner in hot pursuit, but fortunately she doesn’t come.  We walk on and I’m more relieved with each step we get closer to home.  Kitten is now behaving herself.  She and Gemma tired of their little game and they’re just plodding along.  The sun is dipping from the sky in the west and the storm clouds are moving ever closer.  There is even a rumble of distant thunder in the air.  The atmosphere isn’t alive with electricity yet.  Well, it isn’t until a gorgeous blonde jogger rounds the corner coming straight toward us.

The ever lascivious Gemma stops and stares at the blonde as she nears us.  “Who is that girl?  I’ve seen her jogging on our street.”
“I’ve talked to her a few times.  Her name is Joanne.  I think she wrestles as a hobby.”
“Really?  I’d love to get her on the mats, hehehe…..”
“I bet you would, you whore.”

Joanne gets closer and she smiles and says, “Hi,” as she passes.  Kitten says something under her breath and Joanne stops in her tracks.  “What did you say?”  The blonde snaps at Kitten.

“You heard me.  I’m hotter than you, Bitch.”

Joanne stares at the girl on a leash for a moment.  Then she rolls her eyes.  “Yah, okay.  Whatever you say.  Nice leash.”  Apparently, Joanne doesn’t think it’s very odd to see a girl being walked on a leash.  This is New Orleans, after all.

“Fuck you, Bitch!  I’ll kick your ass!”  Kitten says with a smirk.

“Kitten, shut up,” I implore.
“Fuck her.  She thinks she’s tough.  I hate blondes.”
“I guess we know how you feel about me then,” I say trying to lighten the mood.
“You’re okay, I guess.  But this blonde is a fucking tramp.  Let me go and I’ll kick her ass.”
“No Kitten, let’s go home.”

Joanne is now laughing at the leashed girl and says, “Hey, cunt!  You better go home YOU CANDYASS BITCH before I have you face down and ass up!”

One good look at Joanne will tell you that she’s a natural born fighter.  She is about 5’6” and probably around 120 pounds of pure athleticism.  She is in perfect shape.  I would hate to tangle with her, but the thought of rolling around on a mat…hmmmm…..

But Kitten apparently isn’t at all intimidated.  Before Gemma and I can react, we hear the leash hook snap, and we watch in stunned silence as the now free Kitten rushes the blonde.

Gemma and I finally react, but not before Kitten’s head snaps back from two quick punches from the blonde.  Joanne follows up her punches by kicking Kitten in the belly.  The brunette doubles up with a, “Umphh,” and falls onto her side moaning.  Gemma and I rush to get her away from the blonde, but as I approach the fallen girl, Joanne punches me in the jaw and I sprawl on top of Kitten.

Gemma pulls up short to avoid getting hit, “Hey, I’m sorry, she’s nuts.  We’ll get her out of here.”
“Fuck that!  You should have controlled her if she’s crazy.  Now I’m going to kick all three of your asses!”

Joanne steps into Gemma, and the two women exchange blows.  Gemma is still trying to persuade the angry woman to stop, but Joanne isn’t listening to reason.  Finally I manage to get to my knees and I tackle Joanne to the ground.  As she falls, she frees a leg and kicks me in the chest.  I stagger back on Kitten again.  Gemma presses her advantage and manages to land a punch square on the blonde’s cheek.  This blow incapacitates her enough for me to straddle her and wrench her arms back into twin hammerlocks.  We search around for something to restrain the fallen girl, but the only thing we can find is her iPod ear buds.  I hold the struggling blonde while Gemma binds her wrists.  Finally she is secure, but she manages to bite me on the inside of my thigh.  I howl in pain as she clamps down and Gemma knees her in the head to make her release my leg.

By now Kitten has regained her composure and we start running toward home.  But before she leaves, Kitten bends over the blonde, does something I can’t quite see and then kicks the blonde hard in the belly.  Soon all of us are fleeing toward home.

We make it a few blocks when we finally stop to rest.  Anger flares in my chest and I turn to Kitten, “Dammit!  What the hell is wrong with you?!!!  Are you trying to get us killed?….Wait a minute, what’s that in your hand?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me see!”
“No.  Fuck you!”

I grab he wrist and she tries to pull away from me.  “Open your hand,” I demand.
“No.  It’s mine!”

Gemma grabs Kitten’s wrist and twists it painfully. The brunette yelps in pain and her hand opens.  A shiny pink object falls to the sidewalk.

“No, Kitten!  Please tell me you didn’t take Joanne’s iPod.”
“We won it fair and square!  We kicked her ass!  It’s ours.”
“No it’s not.  You stole it Kitten.”
“No.  We won it!”

Gemma adds, “YOU didn’t do shit but get your ass kicked.  Joni and I got her off your dumbass.”
“Doesn’t matter, we won it!”

Exasperatedly, “I’ll take it back to her tomorrow.  Maybe she won’t have us arrested.”  I stick the stolen iPod in my pocket.

“Fuck both you bitches!”  Kitten storms off down the street.

“You want to put the leash on her?”  I ask.
“We probably should.  But it’s gonna be a real fight now,” Gemma says with a chuckle.

And a fight it was.  We have to wrestle the angry Kitten to the ground to get the leash back on her but we finally succeed.  We’re much closer to home, but Kitten is determined not to make the rest of the walk easy for us.

Have you ever felt like you’re being watched?  That’s exactly how I feel right now.  It seems that eyes are upon us from every house.  Soon the watchers aren’t very discreet.  Almost every house has a man mowing the front lawn, and all of them are wearing sunglasses.  Which is funny because storm clouds overtook the sun a long time back.  But the men aren’t the only watchers.  Teenage boys watch as their angry girlfriends glare.  Preteen boys watch, as their mothers’ can’t hide their disgust.  Housewives come out of their houses to protect their ‘property.’

Of course Kitten is the first to notice the new group of female watchers.  She begins a litany of insults as we pass each house.  The green house, “Fat bitch.”  The house next to it, “Ugly cunt.”  And the next, “Cheap whore.”  And so on and so on all the way down the block.  Until she isn’t getting the attention she desires.  So she starts kicking full trashcans into the street.  Soon, we have an angry mob of housewives chasing us.

Fortunately, we are younger and in better shape than any of our pursuers.  We soon lose them or they give up and go home.  I breathe a sigh of relief because I can see our driveway a few hundred yards ahead.  Maybe we can make it without another incident.

No such luck.

I almost pee myself when the Jefferson Parish Police car turns onto our street and up to the curb beside us.  I get a good look at the driver as she stops the car and puts in park.  I say, “Oh God!  Anybody but her…..”

Gemma gives me look and says, “You know her?”
“Yes.  She dated Joe just before I did.  She blames their breakup on me.  She says they were gonna get married.”
“Oh bloody HELL!  Can this day get any worse?”

Funny Gemma should say that.  It is about to get decidedly worse.

“Well, well, well.  Look what we’ve got here!”  The police officer says as she approaches us.  “We get a call about a group of girl gang members terrorizing the neighborhood and all I find is three little whores.  Hello, Joni.  How’s Joe?”

Not reacting to the sarcasm in her voice, my reply is sugary sweet, “He’s fine, Tina.  We’re talking about getting married.”

The police officer blushes and anger turns her cheeks a deep scarlet, “I was wondering if you were still around.  I’ve thought about dropping in to see him sometime.  I see you’re out working the street corner with your whore friends.”
“There’s really no reason to talk to us that way, Tina.  We’re not causing any trouble.”
“You’re not?  Then why do I keep getting calls about three women matching your descriptions causing problems in this neighborhood?  You better watch your ass, Joni.  I’m going to pay you back someday.”
“Can we leave?”
“Not until I check you for warrants.”

Now I’m pissed, but I also know this is a battle I can’t win.  We give Tina the Trooper our names and birthdays…I’m pretty sure Kitten lied about both…and we wait for the results.  After a few minutes, Tina walks back over to us, and this time she’s carrying her nightstick.  “Okay, looks like you are clear, but oddly enough, there seems to be no record for your little friend here,” motioning toward Kitten.
“She just moved here.  She isn’t a criminal.”
“Why’s she on a leash?”
“She likes to be lead around on a leash.”
“You’re weird.  I’m going to stomp your ass one day.  You know that, right?
“Are we done?”

Tina nods that we are, but as I step away from her, she strikes out with her nightstick and loops the L-shaped handle behind my neck.  She jerks me forward and drives a punch deep into my stomach.  “Ommmphhh!!!”  I gasp and collapse onto my knees.  Tina raises the stick to hit me in the back, but I hear Kitten’s leash latch click and I watch in surreal wonder as she reaches up, snatches the baton away from Tina and take off running behind the houses.  Tina screams, “OH FUCK!!!” and takes off after her.

Gemma helps me to my feet and we run at full speed toward home.  Hopefully, we can get there before more officers pour into the neighborhood.  We make it home, but I begin to fear for Kitten.  But before we can worry too much, the front door flies open and to my relief, Kitten is standing just inside.  She giggles and says, “I left the backdoor unlocked.”

I explode, “Dammit, Kitten?!!!  What the fuck is wrong with you?!!!  We could all be going to jail!  Most likely we will be!  Are you insane?”

Kitten just giggles and says, “I probably am, but I wasn’t going to let her beat on you like that!  I hate cops!  They think they can do anything they want!”
“Joe’s a cop, Kitten.”
“He’s different.  He’s one of the good ones.  That bitch isn’t.  Don’t worry, she won’t do anything to us.  I threw her stick in a pool a few yards over.  I saw her fish it out and walk back to her car.  She’s already gone.  She knows what she did was wrong.  But you should probably drive the speed limit for awhile.”

Gemma walks in and says, “The cop left.  I don’t think she’s going to do anything.  That was crazy!  She really hates you.”

We finally relax and wait on Joe to come home.  I dread telling him what’s going on.  He’ll probably lock all of us in a closet.  Gemma announces that she is going to take a bath while I prepare dinner.  Kitten takes her normal spot in front of the television and watches Cartoon Network.  I really think that girl is nuts.

A little while later, Kitten walks into the kitchen.  She stands around but doesn’t say anything.  She just looks at me and then down at the floor.  Finally, I say, “What’s on your mind, Kitten?”

She continues staring at the floor and finally says, “Uh….uh….Joni?  I’m really sorry about today.”

I look up at her and see sincerity that I’ve never seen in her before.  She has tears in her eyes as she continues, “I just like to have fun.  No one wants me around.  I thought Boche would be back for me by now, but I guess he isn’t coming back.  Now Gemma and you hate me.”

“We don’t hate you Kitten.  You just get us into trouble, but I guess we’d be bored if you weren’t here.”

Kitten actually starts crying and hugs me.  We embrace for a moment until we hear a knock on the door.  We look at each other and them walk into the foyer and look out the window.  I gasp in shock when I see Anna the Marine armed with a baseball bat.  Joanne the Grlwrestler armed with a tire iron, Tina the Trooper…now in street clothes…armed with her nightstick, and several other neighborhood women armed with various other items.  Hell, I think I even see a few pitchforks and torches.  I recoil from the window, grab Kitten’s wrist and run down the hall.  We encounter Gemma as she’s coming out of the shower, her body and hair wrapped in towels, “Who’s at the door, Joni?”  She demands.
“Uh….uh…its for you!”
“For me?  I have a visitor?  Why didn’t you call for me sooner.”  Gemma walks toward the door, opens it, and steps outside.  Just as the door clicks shut, “Eeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkk!!!!”

A couple hours later, Kitten and I are still hiding in the attic when we hear the garage door open and close.  A moment later, the kitchen door opens and Joe calls out, “Joni?”

My voice echoes when I respond, but I’m pretty sure he can’t tell where I am.  “Yes, dear?”
“Joni?  What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened today, Joni?”
“It’s a long story, Joe.”
“Is Kitten with you?”
“Yeah, she’s right here.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Joe.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Joe.”

I can tell by the way his voice is moving that he’s looking for us.

“Uh…Joni?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Uh….why is Gemma scotch taped to the flag pole in the front yard?”
“Ugh, Joe!  It’s a long story.  Do we have to get into it now?”
“Well, not right now, I guess.  I’m looking for a knife to cut her free.”
“Is she mad?”
“Would you be?”
“I guess she’s really going to hurt me, isn’t she?”
“That’s exactly what she said.”
“Okay.  I’ll be right here for a day or two.”

Joe says nothing more, but I hear him walk back outside to free Gemma.

After a few minutes, “YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!  I”LL BURN THE FUCKING HOUSE DOWN AND SIFT THE FUCKING ASHES TO FIND YOU!!!”

“Hi, Gemma!  I love you!”  I reply from the safety of my hideout.