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Hamilton Bates III is grumpy this morning. It is eleven o'clock and he
just got up after sleeping three hours. He is standing in front of the sliding glass door looking down at Lucy,
his grandma's cat. She is laying in the little squares of sunlight on the floor.
"Move Lucy."
Last night he stayed up till five thirty on the phone with a girl he met on the internet as Nannybabe06; spending
most of the time trying to talk her into sticking her fingers or at least a finger into herself. After that he
had a bit of trouble falling asleep. Then at eight his grandma called to remind him to feed Lucy. Now his head
hurts and he feels numb, tired and nauseous. The cat blocking his exit makes him even grumpier.
He sees a hummingbird land on the feeder that is suspended from the overhang on the back of the house and suck
down some sugar water. Another one flies by and the first one chase after it, then circles back and lands again,
dipping its beak into the plastic yellow flower.
He closes his eyes and imagines himself stomping every single life from Lucy. "I hate you Lucy, move out of
my frickin' way."
She doesn't even stir.
There is a light thud on the glass. He looks up in time to see a hummingbird falling to the ground.
"This cat is under the impression that she is a human!" he screams at the ceiling, "Why won't you
go lay in the sun somewhere else instead of in my way!?"
She is playing games with him and has been doing so since he moved in. She does stuff like spreading out on the
steps in the morning which has almost tripped him down the steps a few times. The worst though would have to be
stepping in her crap and vomit. This happens often because she loves making a litter box out of the hallway that
leads to his bedroom and she also enjoys feasting on grass and then throwing up in the same hallway. He knows she
does it on purpose.
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