Cammie and Catseye - Kegger for One in the Boathouse

[x-catseye.livejournal.com]

Catseye comes across Cammie brooding while drinking a concoction that includes rat poison out of a keg in the empty boathouse and tries to help Cammie over her sadness, while learning an important lesson about humans and human emotions.


She had to buy the keg. She wouldn't feel right returning it after what she put in it. Rat poison, mostly, mixed with beer. The boathouse was empty. It didn't take a genius to figure out Jake had vanished. And she knew Jean-Paul was gone. Offices may have moved, but these things seemed like they deserved a sendoff.



And so there she was, blasting Modest Mouse, good somber drinking music she couldn't get drunk to, and drinking from her Keg O'Death.



"Fuck you, life. Just fuck you."



Following her nose to what she assumed was some sort of toxic spill disaster on a walk through the woods, Catseye entered the boathouse by picking the lock on the door with a claw and gave a start when she saw Cammie as the source of the really loud music and the awful, evil smell. "What is Cammie doing?" she asked, stunned. "Why is Cammie drinking SmellyBadStuff and poison and listening to music by people who love mice?" Evan had introduced her to Modest Mouse, a band she had to dislike on principle because of the name.

"Cammie is wishing she could get drunk, that's what Cammie is doing," Cammie said, returning it in third person. "But nope. Still sober. How're you?"



"Catseye is feeling very strong. Ready to Lake Cammie for drinking SmellyBadStuff," she retorted, sending Cammie a pointed look.



Cammie looked up at Cats, a very dry expression in her eyes and put the glass aside for a moment, “One,” she said, ticking it off on one finger, “I don’t get drunk. I’ve never gotten drunk. I don’t know what it’s like to get drunk,” though she’d like to, “Two,” another tick off of the fingers, “toss me in the lake and you get to explain all the dead fish to Kyle.”



"Dead fishies?" This confused the catgirl. "Does Cammie not like fishies? She would kill them all? How would she find all the fishies to kill them all?"



“I wouldn’t have to find them. If the water is cold enough, my arm might discharge on its own. And it doesn’t take that much to kill fish or poison someone’s water,” Cammie said, “I wouldn’t do it on purpose,” she took another drink and said the rest into the cup, “But it would happen anyway.”



Catseye's tail twitched in interest. "Because Cammie's blood is made of chemicals," she pondered, mostly to herself. "Catseye remembers. And chemicals in water make everything sick. How does Cammie wash?"





“Very carefully,” Cammie said. A little bit in the water got filtered out at treatment plants, but she didn’t think the lake would be so lucky. There was also plastic and latex. Such wonderful inventions.



"Interesting!" But now that her curiosity on that subject had been addressed, Catseye returned to the previous source of her curiosity. "How come Cammie is trying to get drunk in Mister Nathan's boathouse?"



“I’m not trying to get drunk,” she said, “I can’t. I’m drinking in a literal sense. And the boathouse no longer belongs to the Boss, does it?” Cammie pointed out. “It’s just a big and empty house now. Empty.”



"Catseye thinks it belongs to Bald-umm, to the Professor, and that Cammie should not drink poison stuff in the Professor's boathouse." Catseye cocked her head, frowning at Cammie's emphasis on empty. "Cammie is sad because the boathouse is empty? Because MisterNathan is in the city now?"



“Then he won’t mind us using it to, say, not drink poison in front of the kids. Who might think I really have beer. And not bother to ask,” Cammie pointed out. “Cammie is… missing people.”



She snorted at a memory that popped up, “Fuck, this used to be a party trick.” Drinking lots of booze, or things that shouldn’t have been consumed.



Who else used to spend time in the boathouse? "Missing MisterBeaubier," Catseye realized, and was hugging Cammie before she realized it. "Catseye misses him too. Veryverymuch. But Cammie and Catseye can email him or talk on the phone and Catseye bets that Cammie and Catseye could take a plane and then drive to see him sometime!"



“Whoa, not so much on the touchy-feelies,” Cammie said, trying to wiggle out, “Gotta glass of rat poison here and I don’t want it ending up on you. And yeah, guess we can,” she said. “Still, he ain’t here, though.”



"Catseye knows he is not here," she reminded Cammie. She was sad about Jean-Paul leaving, but the catgirl had always been of the mentality that friends died or left because those things were part of life and that it did absolutely no good in your own life to dwell on them. "Being sad and drinking will not make him come back. So why does Cammie do it?" she asked, question pure curiosity without any attempt to be condescending. Why did so many people do it? She'd never actually asked before. "Does it make Cammie feel better?"

“Not really. To make me feel better I’d have to get drunk,” Cammie said. “I can’t though. So I think. And thinking doesn’t make anything feel better,” she said, with a smile.



"But Catseye doesn't understand! Why do it if it doesn't make Cammie feel better? Catseye thinks driving and playing Chase and eating and reading books would make Cammie feel more better than thinking."



“When I read, I read books about serial killers. That doesn’t really help. I can’t taste food – Jean-Paul did most the cooking for me – and chase is… your game, really,” she pointed out. Cammie could keep up with the best of them, but if training with Logan had taught her anything it was when she had run out of energy, the ‘ferals’ could just keep going. It was crazy.



"What about driving?" the catgirl asked, since Cammie hadn't shot down that idea.



“Depends. Is the car mine?” Besides, she liked bikes better.

"Uh... Catseye doesn't think so. Cammie doesn't have a car, does she?"



Cammie couldn’t help it, she laughed there, “Not what I was asking,” she shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. Driving isn’t really all that fun for me.”

Catseye lashed her tail in frustration. "Well, what can Catseye and Cammie do to feel better?" She wanted to help, but didn't know how.



Cammie shrugged, “I just brood. You can hang out if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend the beer. I’ll be over it tomorrow.”

"Doesn't brooding mean being sad?"



“Um, kinda,” Cammie said, thinking about it, “Same but different.”


"How is it different? Does it make Cammie feel better? Should Catseye try it?"

"It's more emo. And no, you shouldn't. Things I do to get over anything are not good things, okay, Cats? I'm not a good person to copy," Cammie said firmly.



Catseye lashed her tail in frustration. "But Catseye does not like Cammie being sad! Catseye wants to help Cammie be happy! Because being sad does not make MisterBeaubier come back!"

"No, it doesn't. And that's just life. I'm just..." Cammie sighed, "Look I am not a happy person. Bad things happen and gimme a day and I'll just be... whatever I normally am again, okay?"



"But now Catseye is sad!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "How is Catseye supposed to be happy now?"

"Easily. Smile. Play chase. Drive. Eat pastrami. Do what you do to be happy," Cammie said simply.



"Even if those things do not make Cammie happy?"



“Yeah,” Cammie said. “Just take care of yourself first, okay? I’m not worth all the worry,” she said with a grin, “And if you’re happy, I don’t hafta worry.”

"But taking care of self first is what cats do," she said, confused again, "Catseye thought it is not what humans are supposed to do. Catseye thought humans were supposed to take care of other humans first?"



Cammie resisted the urge to snort, “Some people do. The Boss does,” she admitted, “And so does the Professor. I mean, I would’ve kicked me out by now,” she said, a hand pointing towards herself. “Some people don’t though. ‘Guess it depends on what you want to do. But I’m saying you don’t have to worry about me. I’m used to taking care of myself.” She’d be fine in a day or so. There were worse storms she had weathered.

"Well, Cammie is Catseye's friend and Catseye does worry about her friends even though Catseye knows they will be okay and can look after themselves," she replied with a sigh, not liking Cammie's explanation about some people not taking care of other people.

Cammie gave Catseye a long look and sighed, “Look. I’ll be okay. I’ve been through worse than this. I’ll just have to make the effort to learn how to cook now,” she said with a smirk, “Or eat garbage. It could go either way at this point.”



"Eating garbage is yicky," Catseye said with a giggle, wrinkling her nose. "Catseye did not like garbage very much when she lived on the street. If Cammie wants to learn to cook with deer Catseye can catch some anytime for Cammie!"

“Garbage is about the only thing I can taste. The deer has to be rotten before I can eat it, Cats. Well, I can eat it before but it tastes like nothing,” she held up the beer glass, “I can barely taste beer so I add poison to spice it up. And I walk away. This would kill you. Garbage to me is actually like a treat. Jean-Paul would let his cooking rot and give it to me. And it was the best I’ve eaten in years, you know?”

"Rotting meat?" Catseye's purple eyes lit up. "Catseye can find rotting meat lots of places! Catseye would be happy to give yicky meat to Cammie!"

“…Knock yourself out. I’m sure I can fry it or something,” Cammie said, thinking about it.

"Yay! That makes Catseye happy!" She hugged Cammie again and headed towards the door. "Catseye will go get some now because she smelled a dead rabbit in the woods before and Catseye will leave Cammie to listen to her yicky music and drink her yicky drink by herself so she can brood and make herself happy again."

“…Okay,” Cammie said, “Knock yourself out. I’m sure I can do something with a dead rabbit.”