Chapter 27

I cuddled her to my chest. He rolled over. Oops. Male ... NOT fixed.

‘I ain’t broke. Don’t need fixing.’

The lady in the lab coat came in.

“One thousand dollars.” She noticed my look. “What? You thought he was free?”

“Well ... you do have a bunch of exotic cats,” I said.

“Most Watchers want special cats. Dogs are too clingy. Cats ... independent ... sometimes they take to the hills.”

‘Seven,’ I thought.

<What?>

‘You’re here,’ I thought.

<We never left.>

‘You got the numbers to a little lottery win?’ I thought, ‘I need some cash independent of Flintkote International.’

<Your little and my little are way apart.>

‘Three-four-five mil ought to do it.’ I skipped an ugly thought and said, ‘Annuity about fifty grand per mil per year. Good job wages money.’

I heard a big sigh, <A little win ... I can do that.>

I paid for the silver and black kit. We walked out.

“Hey.” That came from the girl serving the desk.

“What?”

“You need a leash.”

“I ain’t wearing no leash,” I said.

She chuckled, “For the cat.”

The ocelot began gagging and turning blue of tongue. He flopped all over the floor ... ended up flat on his back quivering and all four legs jerked out like a dying beetle and he stopped moving.

“I’d say that’s a no,” she said. “You know, the state requires a leash.”

Junior tends to pop in when laws passed by the former United States are still being used to enforce ‘commercial’ rules and regulations.

By ‘commercial’ I mean laws that only benefit sellers of merchandise. Laws passed to protect profits. Like leash laws. Leash means collar or harness. Collar or harness is money in a businessman’s pocket. 82 million cat collars... 82 million leashes. Big money. That’s just cats ... no dogs.

“A collar on a cat is cruel,” Junior said.

“Who are you?” asked the desk jockey.

“The Princess,” Junior said.

“Pull the other one.”

“I’m the face on the Fifty,” Junior said.

“One moment, please.” She started thumbing through her cashdrawer. She found a Fifty ... looked closely and blushed.

“Oh My God ... Your Highness.”

“Stop.”

“Stop?”

“Stop enforcing laws passed by foreign countries,” Junior said. “You can charge for dogs ... not cats.” She paused, “And my name is Junior ... that’s what WE are used to.”

She took out a parchment, wrote on it and gave it to Miss Desk.

“I give you a ... gawd ... I hate the word ... Royal Decree ... You may pass it on to the internet, television, print papers, even call The TODAY show. It’ll make you famous. I don’t do this very often.”

“Pick up your cat, Selene. We’ll use my watch.”

I looked at her wrist.

“Junior ... you don’t have a watch.”

“I know. Head of Country. Don’t need one. I gave it to IV ... she gave it to V, and she gave it to VI ... you know ... succession.”

Took me a minute ... Roman numerals ... not in my MOS. “Oh... 3 to 4... 4 to 5... 5 to 6.

“Junior...”

I got a glare. Careful, careful, careful, I thought.

“I thought you were 18,” I said.

“Good save,” She said.