You are currently browsing the daily archive for February 3, 2008.

Serendipity didn’t harbour grudges – she knew the snide remarks of the snarkretins were the stuff that was born of little minds with severe insecurities and illusions of grandeur. She chose, instead, to focus on the important matters at hand – like tending her pot plant and seeing that her cat, Timothy, stayed the hell away from the rotting little creatures he so delighted in bringing home with him.

The snarkretins were the invisible folk that got off on setting the stage for their little games, poking fun – or not so fun – at anyone they picked on for whatever reason they conjured up in their little minds. Of late they had picked on Serendipity and whizzed their mostly banal and cliché-riddled platitudes in her direction, waiting for the reaction that would feed their hunger for attention. Serendipity, however, being blissfully unaware of the attention she was getting, went on with her everyday goings on – until the mail arrived. She wondered at the interest she was receiving from the snarkretins, and then, in typical fashion determined to shine it on, preferring to let little things please the little minds that didn’t have much else to occupy them.

Now Timothy was not just an ordinary cat – no sireee – Tim was one of those special breeds from the ‘Fone for a Clone’ pet store in the city, where you could order a custom-cloned pet of your choice. Serendipity couldn’t believe that she could actually order a cat (or any pet, for that matter) with extra features not usually found in your run of the mill pussy, so she went to town with her choice of additional ‘extras’.

Timmy looked feline-ish to be sure, though a bit on the runtish side, with a charcoal coat and a tail like a bandicoot. The tail bit happened by mistake, as Serendipity checked a wrong box on the form that she filled out at ‘Fone for a Clone’, and since there was no way of changing things once they had been done, she had to settle for the odd looking tail. The rest of Tim was, however, bearable – given that every now and again things went a bit askew with the cloning process and you didn’t get exactly what you had in mind. She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned, though.

Okay, so he was myopic and Serendipity had to have him fitted out with contact lenses, as he was always bumping into stuff and couldn’t see a mouse at anything over five feet away. But her Timmy was in possession of a mighty brain and his speech was developing nicely as well. He had an ear for music and preferred Karnatic to all other forms, although he did enjoy dancing to the old Motown classics.

Serendipity set the table whilst Tim sat impatiently in his chair waiting for his dinner. He hadn’t quite mastered handling the cutlery, but was making good progress – the fingers she had ordered for him came with claws, so he had a hard time with the knife, but he was adapting agreeably well.

Dinner done, and after Tim had a slurp of his favourite whipped cream dessert, they went out to visit the pot plant. It was growing nicely, with the fat buds emitting that special aroma – maybe another week before the harvest. Tim took a deep drag of the aroma and licked the resin off his whiskers, impatient for the moment.

Coming back inside, they watched the nine o’clock news, had a cup of cocoa and then, together, they went to bed.