Sunday, August 10, 2014

Channeling Anger

"Gather my black robes, the white candles and for god's sake lower the damn blinds." Coco barked.

I've learned not to ask many questions during these times, as I have become keenly perceptive to the preparation demands for Coco's biannual seances. 

"Do you need your Ouiji board, sweet girl?" I asked.

"Of course I do, numbnuts. How else am I supposed to receive answers from the beyond?"

I grabbed Coco's items and lit a smudge stick to purify the room. The sage smoke billowed around her cage and filled the air with a lovely scent.

"Extinguish that crap. It smells like your hair when we snuggle, and it's gross," Coco snapped.

I opened a window and turned on the ceiling fan. Coco sat within a circle she had formed by pushing her litter away from her feet.

"Do you have any paint? I want to draw a pentagram." Coco held up one of my makeup brushes.

"No pentagrams, Coco." I said. 

She threw the brush behind my dresser, lowered her head and chanted, "Meka leka hi meka hiney ho! With our powers combined, I'm livin' on a prayer!"

"Coco, what's with the mish-mash of pop references?" I asked.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I was pretty much hoping lightning would strike you through the window or something like that. But screw it, this crap never works. Come close to me so I can slap you around a little bit."

I sighed. "Just lie down and take a nap cranky pants. I'll fix you a Tom Collins for your snack when you wake up."

"Fine, but how about one little slap before you go."

I leaned in and let her backhand me. Then Coco fell asleep.

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