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Tonight, due to wonderful complications related to Jessica May’s birthday, we will be pushing back the intended return of Ruby till Monday. Instead, we present a tale of Coffin and Bunny - by Opop!
The Skinner Co. Network
FPGE18 - Coffin: The Cat Came Back by Opopanax
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless. Dear is the shadows I live with by nonetheless. Little white flowers will never wake in you. Not where the bright culture solace's taking you. Angels have no fire ever turning you. Or they'll be angry if I so don't join in you. Welcome to Flashpulp, guest episode 18. Tonight, we present Coughin, the cat came back, Biopoponax. This episode is brought to you by Jessica May's birthday. We love you, Jessica May. Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. Tonight, due to wonderful complications related to Jessica May's birthday, we will be pushing back the intended return of Ruby till Monday. Instead, we present a tale of Coughin and Bunny, by me. Coughin, the cat came back, written by Opoponax, art and narration by Opoponax, and audio produced by the birthday girl, Jessica May. Bunny Davis sat on the corner in front of the Eats and Treats, watching a middle-aged woman on the small strip of grass across the street. She held aloft a giant ginger puff ball that writhed and squirmed in her grasp. The woman was a frequent sight in the area, and despite the bejeweled harness and leash, the cat wore, Bunny was familiar enough with the pair to know that the woman carried her darling kitty everywhere with her. "If you're gonna take your cat for a walk, please let it friggin' walk, lady!" She mumbled, reaching into her jacket pocket to retrieve a small flask, then down to swig before stowing it safely back in the folds of her coat. "Some people really love their pets," said Will, who stood next to her, picking at a bag of seeds. He tossed some to the lone pigeon that occupied their shared space. "Yeah, but a cat? Come on. What the hell kind of affection does a cat ever show?" She sneered and discussed. She calls that thing her baby. Makes me f*ckin' sick. Cough and shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing wrong with cats. They've just got bad press." "What?" Bunny exclaimed, side-eyeing him from the pavement. Cats are loners. And haven't you ever heard about not putting them with babies and sh*t? F*ck cats. They're bastards. You know, there's a reason cats were revered by the Egyptians. They may have garnered a dubious reputation, but whatever you say, cats are loyal. They always come back. I knew a guy a while back, Chris Potter, who held similar convictions to your own. I guess you could say he sort of became a cat person in the end, though. Oh, yeah? Bunny perked in eyebrow at her companion. How's that? Well, from how he tells it, started off as a bit of trouble. He just moved into a little apartment downtown. Shabby, six-story brown brick. You know the ones I mean. Yeah, well, day after he settles in, he sees this cat wandering around his apartment. He was a little startled at first, and reasonably so. But when he approached it, it proved to be just as startled itself, and scurried down the hallway into the master suite. He followed it there half a heartbeat later, but said he could find no sign in the beast. He even gone about looking under the furnishing and calling out to the timid creature, but had eventually laid up, figuring the cat had given him the slip and escaped his apartment by the same means that had gotten in. It troubled him that he wasn't able to discern the nature of its entry, but his growling tummy and the growing anticipation for watching his favorite program on TV that night had quelled any thoughts of a further investigation. The pigeon hopped a few paces forward, it sharped by a regarding bunny with silent suspicion. She hissed at it, and it flitted backwards, flapping its wings and protest. Since then, though, coffin continued, the visits became steadily more bold. He'd get off work at four o'clock and come home to find the thing basking on the ledge of the sunniest window. Or, if he was foolish enough to leave his meal unattended for long, he'd return to a half empty plate. Many times he told me he'd awake in the morning to find the cat curled up sleeping soundly at the foot of his bed. He said in the beginning he wasn't really sure how he felt about the uninvited pet. It chewed on the plants he kept in the kitchen windowsill, and it didn't seem to matter where he moved them. It would manage to get at him. And if he had the gall to close his bedroom door at night, the damn thing would shit on the carpet in the hall as if to point out his audacity. I think it would have almost been a joke to him if he didn't have to clean up poop off the floor. Well chuckled, and tossed another handful of seeds to the bird. But he just couldn't understand how the cat kept getting in. He checked that he hadn't left the door jar. And being on the fourth floor it seemed ludicrous to think it was getting in through the windows, but he'd have a peek at them too nonetheless. He'd even gone so far as to question his new neighbors about it, and out of them had mentioned having any pets, or even admitted to seeing the feline around the building. It wasn't until he spoke to the building super intended that he had any clue as to the origins of his mystery friend. I guess the guy had worked there long enough to remember the old lady that lived in the same apartment a few years back. There had been a fire in her bedroom at night, and a place had gone up like a tinderbox. Neither her nor the cat had made it out of the inferno. The police determined the woman had been dead before the accident. She'd smoked a pack a day for as long as anyone could remember, and when her mortality finally caught up with her, she'd left a cigarette burning in her lifeless fingers. Shame the cat had to go too though. It was after hearing the man's story that Chris decided to come to me. Now, I don't know if his mistress's ghost roamed those halls, and if she ever did, she was long gone by the time Chris arrived. Her spirit had moved on from the place. The cat though, it was still prowling around like it owned the joint. Coffin took a seed from his bag and popped it in his mouth. When he didn't continue his tail, Bunny spoke out. "Well, how'd you get rid of the little fucker?" she demanded, fumbling in her pocket again for another shot. "I didn't," Coffin replied casually. An animal with unfinished earthly business isn't exactly able to explain the nature of its dilemma. And I was at a loss. I was able to convince Mr. Potter of the bright side, though. As long as he lived there, he never once suffered from most problems. Bunny snorted into her drink and shook her head. He contacted me about a year later, Will said, almost as an afterthought. Said the cat had gone. Who knows what made it move on. I like to think it somehow found its old lady, but really, it's impossible to say. Flashpulp is presented by flashpulp.com and is released under the Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 3.0 unported license. Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com, but be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast. We'd also like to thank the Freesound project found at freesound.org for a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them. Check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com. And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. (upbeat music)