Chapter Four (b)

She didn't believe what I told her about my living situation. My Personal Assistant and I lived together - SO WHAT? - She was younger than I , that much WAS true, and quite attractive as well - but was that MY FAULT? I think not, and I am not in the business of apologizing for things I am not responsible for. You should know this about me. The woman just loved to argue. I am not talking about the assistant here, I am talking about whoosits, what's-her-name, the little one. The one I was seeing at this time when I first met the professor. If it was true she loved to argue, it was especially true that she loved to argue about my Personal Assistant. My Helper. She had a cornucopia of complaints to register about her, ranging from makeup application to clothing choices to phone etiquette. I tried to remain neutral, grunting occasionally while she droned on and on about my helper, but I'll tell you what: I was beginning to feel disloyal about the whole thing. Once she found out that we really did live together though? That was pretty much the end of it.

SO - My Personal Assistant and I had been living together for nearly two years at that time, and there was nothing to answer to at that time, no apologies, no explanations. We had nothing to hide, we were on the up-and-up. We were family, just like you and your mother or father, brother or sister. The same. *Maybe* a tiny bit better as we had Special Plans to go Special Places like Idaho, or Alaska, Australia, and we did not bicker about whether Mother sent a more substantial Birthday Check to whom . What was I saying?


My PA and I had been living together for some long time already, a house with a big yard not far away from The Shop, Her animals could graze, and I had another driveway in which to park invalid cars. We got along well, we had already established that much. I could keep the sink clean, and she could too. I agreed we could use a goat, and I meant it. She wanted a Bird of Prey, and I was all for it, so long as the thing would be cloistered into it's own small area. They have talons. Sharp Talons. My throat is not prepared for such an assault. I could abide the bird, but not the claws. This was a standoff between us early on, which we managed to over-maneuver. We arrived at an agreement, she and I (I'm talking about my helper here, not Whoosits), her bird would live in a closet on the North End of the house, far away from me, and I was Okay with this, I would do it. I had my own unpleasantries. I do not want to get into detail here about my own personal unpleasant behaviors or characteristics, but I know I have them too. Most of them do not involve tearing flesh from bone, or shitting wherever I happen to be perched at the time the urge strikes me, but I can be difficult in my own ways.

Not long after I met the professor, he came over to our house to bring a few dead animals he had collected earlier in the week to feed to The Helper's bird. She tried to explain to him that the bird would only eat a rat or squirrel if it were alive and the bird could kill it. The professor chuckled in a patronizing way and countered with some oblique reference to buzzards or vultures and went ahead and put the paper bag full of dead rodents in our freezer, noting that they may come in handy if the bird was to 'Get hungry enough'. I recognized the look of horror on the helper's face as an unhappy one, and I help up a hand to let let her know she should not protest right this very minute. Professor Waverly had already alienated the helper with his comments earlier in the day suggesting she was retaining water, and she was hot for an excuse to get in an argument with the man.

"Thanks." I told the professor, who was now rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Did you really put that bag of rats in my freezer?" asked The Helper

"I do what I can. Do you have any pomegranate juice and a few limes?" asked Waverly.

"Limes?" I asked, and looked at The Helper. "Do we have limes?" She was glaring at me, not speaking.

"What about the wheat germ? Is it not refrigerated?" He began to open and close crisper drawers and sniff at Tupperware containers. "You two have not been eating nitrites have you? I can tell I have my work cut out for me here! Thank Heavens I found you while you are still young people and you still stand a chance."