[Millirific 42] Simon Skinner
Title: Poor Thing (Millirific 42 #15: Kitten)
Author: buongiornodaisy
Characters: Simon Skinner (slasherofprices), Ana Pascal (ana_pascal)
Rating: G
Inspired by this conversation. And, of course, the photo. Poor thing.
---
In the window of the shop sat a miserable looking Persian cat. Its wide orange eyes stared beyond the couple outside the window, contemplating countless possibilities of suicide. Should it run into the window, achieving unconsciousness and brain damage? Should it drown itself in its bowl of water? Should it overdose on kitty litter? The poor thing had been starving itself. It might’ve been sleep deprived. Its mouth, a small boomerang-shaped frown, spoke silently of unfathomable horrors. If the cat could raise its paws to both sides of its head and open its mouth, Simon Skinner was certain it would look like the feline version of The Scream by Edvard Munch. This was a cat certainly suffering from a bad bout of existential angst.
Simon pointed to the cat. “How would you like that for a pet?”
Ana turned her head slightly, regarding Simon with a mysterious and thoughtful grin. She then looked to the cat. Then back at Simon. “I’d call him Junior.”
Simon faced her fully, his brows furrowed , his mouth quirking into curious frown. “Why Junior?”
“Because,” she replied, turning to face him fully as well, her grin mischievous, her eyes flashing the playful glint he knew so well, “sometimes you have that exact same expression on your face.”
Simon’s mouth dropped partly agape, and his eyes widened slightly. Ana began to laugh. Simon did not know that at that time, his face matched almost exactly the face of the cat’s.
Medium damn table
Author: buongiornodaisy
Characters: Simon Skinner (slasherofprices), Ana Pascal (ana_pascal)
Rating: G
Inspired by this conversation. And, of course, the photo. Poor thing.
---
In the window of the shop sat a miserable looking Persian cat. Its wide orange eyes stared beyond the couple outside the window, contemplating countless possibilities of suicide. Should it run into the window, achieving unconsciousness and brain damage? Should it drown itself in its bowl of water? Should it overdose on kitty litter? The poor thing had been starving itself. It might’ve been sleep deprived. Its mouth, a small boomerang-shaped frown, spoke silently of unfathomable horrors. If the cat could raise its paws to both sides of its head and open its mouth, Simon Skinner was certain it would look like the feline version of The Scream by Edvard Munch. This was a cat certainly suffering from a bad bout of existential angst.
Simon pointed to the cat. “How would you like that for a pet?”
Ana turned her head slightly, regarding Simon with a mysterious and thoughtful grin. She then looked to the cat. Then back at Simon. “I’d call him Junior.”
Simon faced her fully, his brows furrowed , his mouth quirking into curious frown. “Why Junior?”
“Because,” she replied, turning to face him fully as well, her grin mischievous, her eyes flashing the playful glint he knew so well, “sometimes you have that exact same expression on your face.”
Simon’s mouth dropped partly agape, and his eyes widened slightly. Ana began to laugh. Simon did not know that at that time, his face matched almost exactly the face of the cat’s.
Medium damn table