Catgirl Roommate: A Cat Lover's Comedy Novel by Stephanie O'Brien

Author:Stephanie O'Brien [O'Brien, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8: You Can Start a War Over Carrots, Right?

I had no idea that Nyla shooting herself with a toaster would make snack time so peaceful. I must find a way to make this happen more often.

As he slowly leaned his shoulders back, Sam felt his reclining body sink a few luxurious inches into the overstuffed armchair, and a slow, serene smile flowed across his face as his eyes slipped closed.

This is how an evening should end. No claws on the door, or dead hamsters on the floor, or angry neighbours ringing eardrum-stabbing doorbells... no catgirls trying to climb onto my lap...

If I didn’t have to get up and brush my teeth, this would be perfect.

His head lolled lazily toward the window, and one of his eyes opened slightly to take in the peaceful late-evening view. The light was fading, and a few straggling birds lingered on the lawn, poking for the worms that the early birds had missed. The crazed Chihuahua was nowhere in sight, and the glass around chest-height was dotted with...

The strange sight dragged his sleepy eye wider, and Sam frowned as he leaned a bit closer. What kind of smudge is that? It looks kind of like Nyla’s nose prints, but it would take an elephant or my aunt to leave a nose print that big.

An attempt to prop himself up with one tired arm convinced him that the lazy route wasn’t going to get his eyeballs close enough to the partly darkened window, and curiosity forced him to his feet even as his body protested.

It looks like nose grease, all right, he reflected, a corner of his mind distractedly watching as several birds exploded from the lawn in synchronized panic. But the shape...

THOK!

Noise exploded from the window beside him and Sam sprang back with a yelp, stumbling onto his rear end and watching in shock as Nyla tumbled to the ground. The moment her hands touched the carpet, she shook her head violently and ran away as if the collision had never happened, leaving a cheek-sized, cheek-shaped smudge on the thoroughly abused glass.

“Nyla?” Sam called after her, struggling to comprehend how anything with stronger brain functions than a fly could collide with the same window so many times. “What was that about?”

“I’m hungry!” she returned, her voice drifting from the general direction of the basement stairs.

“You headbutt windows when you’re hungry?”

“I wanted the birds.”

That ALMOST makes sense, but... “And you thought you could get them by jumping through the solid glass window?”

“I forgot it was there.”

“Figures.” His eyes strayed wistfully toward the armchair, drawn by a nearly overwhelming temptation to just sit down and forget everything until the next morning.

If I sit down now, I will definitely never brush my teeth.

I should brush my teeth.

Forcing himself to turn away from the seductive piece of furniture, he took a step toward the hall. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.”

“And feed me,” Nyla prompted, her head popping around the corner like a sideways Jack in the Box, and Sam shook his head in return.

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