Man in the Street

Another Thursday Prompt from Poetigress, this time the word "regret." Before this one, though, comes 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11.

     "There!"  El Brujo perched on my knees like the figurehead on

a ship, her tail arched and waving slightly just in front of my 

face.  "Don't you feel better now?"

     "No one was home, Brujo."  Which actually did make me feel 

better, but damned if I was gonna give the cat the satisfaction 

of knowing that.

     The tip of her tail swished back to smack my nose.  "You're 

so results oriented, August.  It's really quite unfortunate."  She 

rolled onto her side, then, tucked herself against the framework 

of the chair's arms.  "Aren't you familiar with the dictum that 

'getting there is half the fun?'"

     We were rolling along Haggard St. at that point, had left the 

Petersons' old place when the lack of van in the driveway and 

puppy in the yard had made it clear that Heather--and, I tried 

very hard not to think and, as you can see, failed miserably--

her mistress Deena weren't there.

     Which made sense.  They were just moving in, she'd said last 

week when we'd had out first--and so far only--conversation, the 

conversation in which I'd come off as a complete and utter moron 

and she'd gone racing back into the house with the puppy 

clutched to her--don't think about it; don't think about--her 

chest...

     I couldn't help sighing, put more shoulder into each push of 

the wheelrims, sent us speeding along at what was frankly an 

unsafe velocity for the neighborhood sidewalks, cracked and 

bumpy from the roots of the ficus trees planted every dozen feet 

along the way.

     "Although," El Brujo was going on, "as we're not actually 

going anywhere, you needn't push yourself to the edge of 

exhaustion.  I think we'd both regret it if the little scene you 

staged for Donna this morning became a case of life imitating 

art."

     "Regret?"  My mind was flopping around inside me like the 

spring's first froglets had started flopping around the meadow 

at the eastern edge of the neighborhood.  "I don't think you 

know what that word means, El Brujo."

     She sniffed.  "Like all words, it embodies quite a human 

concept, that's true.  But I've become so adept at translating 

over the years, I've a much firmer grasp of the peculiar way you 

humans think than the average feline."

     "Uh-huh."  I pulled us up short at the end of Haggard's cul-

de-sac, the afternoon's shaky sunlight filtering through the scrub 

pines rustling in the breeze.  "Tell me one, then."

     "One what, August?  Really, you need to be more specific 

when you--"

     "One regret."  I tapped the back of her head with a finger.  

"One thing you personally regret in your life."

     Her ears folded.  "Really, August.  Just because I understand  

the concept doesn't mean I participate in it."

     A raucous laugh from the trees.  "She got you there, Stavo!"

     I looked up to see a large crow winging down to land on the 

sidewalk in front of us, and I was pretty sure I knew who it was 

even before El Brujo licked a paw and said, "I always do, Jefe."

     He cocked his head.  "What's got him so grumpy this time?"

     She waved the paw back up the street.  "As usual, August has 

fallen in love with the new young lady who's moved into the 

neighborhood, and as usual, he's frightened that he's too 

hideous for her to look upon with anything more than pity at 

best and disdain at worst."

     "What??"  Jefe strutted a few steps closer.  "She serious??"

     "Yes," I said, fixing my gaze on the crow.  "Imagine that.  

Hiding the way you really feel about someone.  Why on Earth 

would anyone ever do that?"

     Jefe froze in place, his black eyes going wide, and I could 

almost hear the strain as he tried not to turn those eyes toward 

El Brujo as she stretched luxuriously across my lap.  "Humans," 

she said.

     "Hey, now!"  Crows don't sweat, of course, but I swear Jefe 

looked like he really wanted to.  "Humans got some weird hang-

ups, sure, but this one..."  He hopped back.  "I mean, I heard 

about birds doing the same kinda thing, y'know?"

     El Brujo waved her paw again.  "Oh, well, avians, yes.  I was 

talking about sensible animals."

     That made him laugh.  "When it comes to love, ain't no such 

thing as sensible!"  He spread his wings, leaped and flapped and 

shot up into the cloudy blue.  "But you don't worry none, Stavo!  

You're no more hideous than any other human, y'know??"

     "See?"  El Brujo rolled her slitted eyes at me.  "Don't I 

always tell you that, too?"

     I sighed.  "You do, Brujo."  I stroked a hand along her flank.  

"You do."

And after it comes 13.