Home Sweet Home

"Uh, yeah. I'm gonna need about 16 feet o' plywood, a few panes of glass, some super glue, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a pint of vodka, no ice."

Coco began a little remodeling work on her condo (cardboard box) this morning, and she was on a serious mission.

"You've left me to lounge in this empty piece of crap, so the least you can do is supply me with a few tools to finish up this skylight."

I nodded. "Sure, no problem girly. What else do you plan on doing to the joint?"

"Well, right now it looks like shit. That's easy to see, and of course I blame you for that. So, I'd like you to pay for an 8-person hot tub, probably a 30" plasma flat screen, a stripper pole, and a full-sized refrigerator stocked with booze."

I reached into the cardboard box through a hole I had cut into the side. "Hmm...I don't know Coco, doesn't seem like you're going to have enough room in this box for all the things you want. You might need to scale back a little bit."

She laughed. "You are so simple minded."

Coco hopped out of the box and pulled out a measuring tape. "I figure if we knock down these two walls here and extend my space, oh say, 15-20 feet everything will easily fit."

I kissed her furry nose. "But Coco, you're basically saying you want to put a hot tub where my bed is right now. I won't have any space in the room at this rate. Will you at least let me snuggle up with you in your new posh pad?"

She shook her head no. "I'll let you purchase access passes for the hot tub when I feel like it, but you're going to have to sleep outside. I want this room to look and feel like the back stage area of a Motley Crue show in '86. Losers not welcome."

Rock n' Roll Bunny

"So what, you think you're better than me now?"

This was the response I got from Coco when I told her a girl who works at Trader Joe's asked me to play guitar in an all-girl punk rock band she's putting together.

"Yeah well, I'm a girl. I love to rock. And I can drink Tommy Lee under the table. So why haven't you asked me to join yet?" Coco said matter-of-factly.

"Cokes, I just met this girl! At least let me get a feel for things before I bring up your name as a potential member. What can you play anyway, the keyboard?"

"The keyboard? The key-board? Are you kidding me? Honestly, look at me...LOOK. AT. ME. Do you think someone who looks like this should be sitting on a shitty stool behind a keyboard?"

I was perplexed. Was Coco trying to say that the keyboard is a nonsensical instrument for her to play considering her 6-inch wingspan, or did she view it as an inferior instrument? 

"Coco, some pretty awesome women play the keys...Tori Amos, Holly Laessig, Alia O'Brien...Girly, you should be proud to play!"

Coco stood on top of her cage and leaned over the edge, spitting on the floor. "Yeah, well you know who else plays the keys? ALICIA Keys. And she sucks."

"Ok, a little harsh, but I catch your drift." I bent down with a tissue to wipe up Coco's saliva. "Then what role would you like to have in the band?" 

"How is this not obvious? I was born to be a front woman. I have the charisma, uniqueness, nerve and talent. I have the voice of a siren and I've already planned my outfit for the spotlight."

I smiled, "Well, I have heard you sing before and you are quite talented." 

I gave her a little pat on the head. "What would you wear for the opening show?"

"I will be center stage behind a mic stand like the one my muse Steven Tyler uses (with tiny scarves tied to it), and I will wear black leather pants that lace up the sides...you know, real sexy like. I will also have on a sleeveless leather vest and biker hat. I'll need to wear sunglasses from the time I enter the venue 'til the time I exit, as I want no one to make eye contact with me."

I laughed, "Coco, that is a very elaborate outfit my honey bunny. It almost sounds like Rob Halford might be your muse as well."

"You know what, you're right." she said. "I do have a lot of respect for Rob. For you, on the other hand, I have absolutely no respect. Oh yeah, and you're out of the band."

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.

Movie Night

Coco and I decided to spend the evening at home watching Batman movies. I ordered some Thai food and we sipped on ginger beers. Coco usually likes to sit on my lap when we have movie nights, but she has a special seating arrangement for superheroes flicks.  

"I love the Penguin," Coco said. "He's short and fat, and he reminds me of you."

I laughed...sort of. "Coco, that's not very nice. Why can't you say I remind you of Catwoman? I really like her outfit and she's way cooler than the Penguin."

She sipped her ginger drink. "Ok, ok fine...You know, I also really like Poison Ivy. She's quite beautiful with her fiery hair."

"I know Cokes! It's funny how I dyed my hair red recently, and it's almost the same color!"

Coco nodded. "True, very true. And yet, when I think of you it's Bane that comes to mind almost immediately."

I crossed my arms. "Wow girl, you're really sassy when you haven't had any booze to drink."

"What are you talking about dumdum? I'm drinking beer right now." Coco held up her drink, chugged it and dropped the glass on the floor. The ice cubes slid under my bed.

"There's no alcohol in ginger beer, Coco. It's basically just pop."

"Pop? As in soda? You mean I'm sober? Well...that means you tricked me, and therefore...you. must. die."

I handed Coco a double shot glass, filled it to the top with tequila, and watched her throw it back.

She held the tiny glass out and waited for me to pour. "It's gonna take at least three more of these for you to keep your life...Penguin."