Memories

One day I’m going to travel
My hazel gaze set in stone
A Michelangelo
A place I have not yet met

~Chapter Two~

How I remember all these things I don’t know, but they make up memories awright. I can’t stand things now, so I think about these dreams I’m having. Maybe if I think of them long enough my nice dreams will be good enough. Like the one about Toby. Our cat Big Toby.

Cats are great. They don’t do nothing wrong. They feel good to touch, they talk to you, they purrrrrrr and look so happy. When I was younger I’d dream of sitting downstairs alone and Big Toby would talk. He’d actually be able to say something. I’d be the only one to hear it, but gradually the whole world would start taking notice of these things.

It would be big news in all the papers. From here to Russia – “Pets That Talk”. I’d be a witness and I’d say “Yes sir, Im 12, I make my bed and get those dirty socks under the bed. I even do the laundry, and I can read my dad’s messy hand writing on that paper taped to the musty wall above the washing machine. But I don’t need it anymore, I got it all down pat. What? Oh, yeah yeah Toby talked….so?”

“What he say!?” – they would demand.

And all I could think about was how his voice sounded. I never would of thought Toby’s voice would be so – human. You know…different. Kinda like everyone’s flat or flabby bellies, or the colour of their hair. Toby would talk really nice. I mean he would sound nice. I bet he’d make “Toby” a cool name.

Everyone would know Toby the cat. Excited taxi drivers would say “Hey! did you read about Big Toby!? The talking cat from Canada!?” I’d be a celebrity. Front page news. The little boy with the cat in his arms – The Cat That Talks that is.

We would have a good time in our basement, man we would. He wouldn’t ever talk, just once in awhile. It wouldn’t matter, as long as I know it can happen. We’d hang and be buddies, you know, with an “understanding” We’d be cool. I wouldn’t care if her ever talked again. Just so long as I knew.

All the world outside would be yapping and talking fuss over it, but we’d be watching tele, cartoons or whatever else. Mom would be upstairs dying in bed, dad would drive me to my baseball games and buy me chocolate bars. All these memories Im gonna have. It’s gonna be great.

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