There are still some foam balls lodged in my mouth. I start throwing up, covering my mouth, trying to hide all this as I run around the circular airport. The bald guy with the foam ball treatment sits by himself at a little table. His loafers are made of vinyl. He is alone with his stupid method. No one cares about him.
I have tried to tell the story of where my cat Bean went when he died
but no one really wants to listen to a story about a place only seen by
what appears to be a seven year old girl on acid. So I will write
it down instead. When my cat died he went to the great twirling cat
wheel in heaven where all the other newly dead cats go and all their little
cat faces are pasted to this wheel going mew mew softly as it starts to
spin but then the wheel goes faster and faster until all the faces are
a blur and so then what happens is one little cat spirit becomes part of
the whole undifferentiated cat soul of the universe and this is why after
my cat died he didn't come back to see me the way newly dead dogs do and
I miss my cat Bean very much.
—Nancy Dunlop