Fiction

Miranda Saenz de Viteri | Fall 2022

The warm July sunlight kissed my eyes ever so cheekily, stirring up a wince that grew into a frown. A quiet growl slipped out of my mouth, irritated by the fact that my much-needed beauty sleep was hastily cut short. Since the sun had already determined when I was to wake up, I stretched myself out long enough to put a chiropractor out of business and began to mosey along out of my bed. A fresh, citrusy aroma danced throughout the air, leaving me no alternative but to inch closer and closer to the smell; it was my beloved fruit, a satsuma mandarin! As the tasteful smell grew stronger, unfortunately so did the whining of Mari. “No, no, I specifically said today. I don’t think I would have ordered a birthday cake for my mom a day after her birthday!”

My jaw slightly clenched watching Mari pace around, slowly picking at the satsuma mandarin. I eyed my delicious soon-to-be fruit, drool possibly (probably) spewing from my lips, and was prepared to claim it as mine now. As Mari kept blabbing about her stupid pastry, I cleared my throat and roared my ferocious command: “Meow.” Mari glanced at me and gave me an insincere grin before continuing to pace around complaining on the phone. My eyes began to narrow and I could feel my claws begin to creep out of their fuzzy yet ferocious sockets. Occasionally, my orders to Mari weren’t always clear – so I decided to be a bit more direct this time around. “Meooow.” Her eyes darted over to me again and she furrowed her brow. “What?” I ever-so-gently sat myself down and stuck my chest up high, waiting for her to grant my unspoken-spoken wish. She scoffed at me and stomped away, lugging her unnecessary attitude along with her.

I bared my teeth and let out a subtle hiss – a hiss not loud enough for Mari to hear over her galling groaning though. Sounds of keys jingling echoed throughout the house and finally the deafening sound of the door slamming shut stung my ears. My eyes rolled so far to the back of my head that I thought I almost saw my brain – which, admittedly, was probably bigger than Mari’s. I began to squat down to leave revenge for my stripped-away citrus until Carlos began calling out my name. “Psst! Hey, Gray, psst!” My head whipped around towards the direction of Carlos’s voice and saw him swimmingly giddily in his tank with a smirk plastered on his face. I stretched out my long, furry legs and began strutting towards him elegantly, as though I was walking on a catwalk.

“Did you see that? That was ridiculous, Carlos! She didn’t give me my damn fruit, she didn’t give it to me! How much hollering and hissing does a cat have to do around here to get their damn fruit. Talk about a bi-”

“Enough about your stupid citrus. Come look at this,” Carlos exclaimed, swimming frantically in circles. My hind legs stretched for take-off, and I leaped onto the table that supported Carlos’s tank. “Look outside.”

I peered outside the oval-shaped window and spotted something slightly unusual: a black pick-up truck resting in the driveway where Mari’s car usually resided. My head bobbed to the side and I whispered, “Who is that?” Before Carlos could even hypothesize where the car may have emanated from, the front door swung open and a man with a black ski mask came bustling through. He moved swiftly, closing the door as fast as he had opened it, and began rummaging through the first drawer he could find. He began tossing Mari’s knickknacks and doodads onto the floor: hairbrushes, deodorant, vitamin gummies, a collar.

A collar? No, not just any collar – my collar. Who did this guy think he was breaking into Mari’s house just to throw my collar onto the ground as if it were chopped liver? I could feel my blood begin to boil and my back begin to arch in a rage. There was no way I was going to let this self-entitled stranger waltz into my abode and proceed to toss around my belongings as though they meant nothing. Honestly, I was offended.

“What do we do?” Carlos whispered, now at a halt from his previous antics.

“I have an idea,” I muttered, gracefully jumping down from the table and tiptoeing towards the burglar. The blue, bedazzled collar that he had barbarously discarded looked up at me, quietly pleading, “Avenge me, Gray, avenge me!” The man turned around savagely and we locked eyes. Puzzled, he raised an eyebrow and spat, “Whadda you want, cat?” I kept my lips sealed and instead locked in on his beady, little eyes; they narrowed more and more the longer we held eye contact. He released an irritated sigh as though I was the nuisance and walked around me, heading towards the kitchen.

“Hmmph,” I mumbled, slowly following behind him. My steps were quiet and cat-like, assured to avoid raising any eyebrows from the ski mask man.

The man began digging through the fine china and silverware, shoving what he deemed worthy into a duffel bag. You’d think someone stealing plates and knives would be a little more delicate with them. He then moved on to the bathroom, cracking open the medicine cabinet and popping pills into the duffel.

“You got a whole house to yourself and you steal silverware first,” I yawned. The man let out a shrill shriek and spun around imitating a ballerina. His eyes scanned the premises but he had trouble identifying where the voice had come from. “Down here, buddy.” His eyes slowly met mine again but this time I didn’t let him break contact. “What? Never seen a talking cat before?”

He released yet another wimpish shriek and dropped the duffel like he had dropped my collar. The man hopped around me, fumbling over his own two feet in the process, and bolted out the door like a bat out of hell – or maybe a cat out of hell for that matter. I let out a snicker. “Pathetic.”

As I paraded back into the kitchen, feeling boastful and glorious, I noticed something the man had also dropped: a satsuma mandarin. It was the most perfect fruit I had seen, almost as though it was picked by the fruit gods just for me: the perfect tint of orange, round and plump with a slight rip from its peel that allowed me to easily claw my way in, anddddd attainable. If the Chesire Cat had gotten his smile from anyone, it was most definitely me. I picked at the fruit and slowly sucked away at its citrusy sweetness, soaking in an unspoken victory.