The apartment door opens behind Travis, and Nick steps in looking paranoid, clutching his courier bag in his arms.

“Hey dude,” Ian says.

“Hey,” Nick replies curtly, out of breath. He steps lightly over to the couch, sneaking on his toes, and sits down next to Ian, looking nervous still.

“What’s up?” Travis asks, smiling.

“Yeah, what the hell’s with you?” John asks.

“Nothin’.”

Ian looks over at Nick beside him and asks, “What’s in the bag?”

“Nothin’.” Nick cradles the bag closer.

Ian, Travis and John all lean their attention. “Nothin’ huh?” Ian asks.

Nick just nods, looking more nervous now that they’re all paying attention to him. He tries to whistle for a moment, and gives John a polite wave from the wrist—perfectly innocent, nothing to see here.

“Why don’cha open it up then—” Travis asks.

“If there’s nothin’ in it…” Ian finishes for him.

“Okay,” Nick replies, suddenly casual. Opening the bag, Nick sits watching it in awe. For a moment nothing happens. Nick says, “C’mere,” in a high-pitched voice, precisely the way people talk to children and small animals. Travis, Ian and John all simultaneously wonder if they are being duped, staring at Nick’s bag. But after a moment, a tiny fuzzy black head pokes out of the bag and mews.

“What the hell?” Travis asks.

Ian leans over on the couch and pets the kitten as it steps out from the confines of the bag.

“Hey there,” he says, scratching the kitten’s ears.

John looks on apprehensively as Nick picks the little kitten up and holds it out towards him.

“See?”

“Are you planning on keeping that here?” John asks.

“Well… yeah.”

“I’m allergic to cats, dumbass.”

Nick looks surprised. “Really?”

John rolls his eyes.

“Shit.” Nick looks at the kitten in his hands disappointedly. “I didn’t know that.”

“That’s all right,” John says.

“Well, how bad?” Nick asks.

“Eh. Just keep it out of my room. We’ll see.” John rolls over again to face the back of the love seat.

“Well, I could take him back—or let my parents hang on to him for little while.”

“No,” John says to the cushions. “It’s got short hair. I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll keep it out of your room and vacuum a lot.”

“Just be sure you keep the litter box clean.”

“I’ll keep it in my bathroom,” Nick offers.

Travis reaches out and grabs the animal from Nick, pulling it back to the armchair with him, and holding the kitten close to his chest. It cuddles up to him. “My kitty,” he says childishly.

“You can hold it,” Nick says, playing the father figure.

“My! Kitty!” Travis argues, sinking back further into the armchair. The kitten is now visibly disinterested in being in such close proximity, and begins to squeeze itself from out of Travis’s grasp. He lets it, and it begins exploring his lap, walking out to his cliff-sized shins to peer over the edge. All the boys are equally mesmerized by the animal, its faltering gait.

“What inspired you to go get a cat?”

Nick rubs his face. “I went over to Mark’s to borrow his pasteboard, and they had found all these kittens living behind their garage.” Nick shrugs. “He asked me if I wanted one.” After a moment, Nick leans over and picks the cat up. “Don’t hog him,” he says. “Let John have a turn,” he offers politely, shoving the kitten towards John.

“Get—” John starts angrily.

Nick pulls the cat away and smiles, happy to have something new to annoy John with. John points menacingly in reply and whispers with his eyes squinted, “Daddy giveth and Daddy taketh away.”

At this, Nick holds the kitten close to him and bolts out of the living room into his own bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Ian looks questioningly to Travis for an explanation.

Travis just shrugs. “You probably don’t want to know,” he says as the sound of things being thrown around in Nick’s room emanate into the hall. From the living room, they could hear

Nick yelling, “Ah! The voices! Make the voices stop!”

The door to Nick’s room opens, and the kitten comes running through the living room at full speed, its yellow eyes wide, its ears flattened back against its head. Running between Ian and Travis, it dashes into the kitchen. Travis laughs out loud as Nick comes back into the room, looking haggard.

“Feel better?” John asks, smiling.

Nick sits down on the couch. “Where’d he go?”

Travis and Ian simultaneously point over their shoulders toward the kitchen.

“Aw, poor guy. I didn’t mean to scare him.”

“Having a kitten here is like raising a kid in a dysfunctional family times three,” Travis offers.

“True,” Nick admits.

“Get me my bottle, bitch!” John says in his perverted uncle’s voice into the couch.

“Now, honey,” Nick says in a feminine southern accent, “I—I think you’ve had enough tonight.”

“Don’t tell me when I’ve had enough, woman!”

“Hey, Dad,” Travis adds. “Why don’t you try getting a job instead of suckin’ on a whiskey bottle?”

“You shut your mouth. If I get up off this couch—”

“What?” Travis asks. “What’re you gonna’ do, you worthless shit?”

“That’s it. Liza!” John says, speaking calmly to Nick and sitting up, “get me my bat.”

“I’ll take you on, old man!” Travis says, frightened but stern.

“Boys, now,” Nick stutters, “just calm down—this ain’t Christian.”

“Shut up, bitch!”

“Don’t tell her ta’ shut up again!” Travis yells.

Ian nods. “Oh yeah. That cat’ll be fine.”

Read the whole thread: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: cat, Ian Fleming, John Riffing, kitten, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting