Puff of Smoke

I stared out through the window. Rain was pouring from the sky. Another rainy day in the city.

I turned my attention back to the stove-top, where three slices of Spam were sizzling on my mom's old skillet. My eye trailed up to the kitchen cabinet, where the rest of my mom's cooking paraphernalia stood in stacks. I was learning to cook like I'd promised my mom years ago in college, but it was still a slow learning experience.

I checked the slices, guessed I had about another minute or two before they would be done, and jogged to the living area to turn on the TV or radio. Cooking was fun, but I felt like I needed something to occupy my mind. Cooking wasn't quite doing it.

The radio sat on the coffee table, but wouldn't turn on. I flipped the radio around and saw the batteries were missing. I reached for my TV remote, and plopped the batteries into the radio. I tried the power switch again, and the radio came on.

Talk radio came on, and I heard a thump from the kitchen. I turned back around to see the skillet, Spam slices and burning grease all over the tile. I panicked for a minute, and crouched to start slapping the grease out. I slammed my palm against the grease once, and learned quickly that I should get a fire extinguisher. I turned from the kitchen, and opened my apartment door, dashing down the hall. On the far wall of the hallway, a red fire extinguisher was hanging from the wall. I ripped it from the wall, and ran back to my apartment. The hallway erupted in whistling sound and flashing lights, as if the fire extinguisher was attached to the fire alarm. As I was running back to my apartment, I heard a thump. The floor rocked, and I stumbled, slamming into the carpet in the hall. The fire extinguisher tumbled down the hall.

I got up, and hurried back to the apartment. The kitchen was a horrible mess. My refrigerator was bowled over, my cabinets were all on fire, and my wooden table was in ruins. I turned around the counter, and saw my porcelain sink halfway through the ceiling. The cabinets had erupted outward, and I saw a horribly warped propane tank underneath my kitchen counter. The propane had probably exploded. The cabinets were all on fire, as was the carpet in my living room.

I hurried to collect some of my mom's cooking set, grabbed a skillet and a spatula, and hurried out into the hall. I tripped out of the apartment, dropping my cookware, and hurried to recover it. I got the skillet to the end of the hall, and hurried back into my apartment. I ran through the living room and grabbed the empty suitcase I keep under my futon for vacations.

I ran back to the kitchen, and dumped as many pots and pans as I could into the luggage. Blue and red bulb flashes were spinning in to the window. After getting all of the cooking stuff, I ran for the door. I stumbled over what used to be my coffee table, and dropped the bag so I could catch my balance. I stumbled, barely catching my balance before I slammed into the wall. I turned back to grab my bag, and got caught around the waist. “Come on!”

I turned, and saw a fire-fighter's helmet. “Get out of here!”

“But, my-”

“Go!” He shoved me toward the stairs, and I stumbled down the first five steps. I listened, and ran to the ground floor. The apartment's tenants were already outside, joined by a few ambulances and firetrucks. As soon as I was out of the building, two ambulance runners hurried up to me and checked me for burns or gashes. After a short check-up, they told me I was lucky that I had no burns, and told me to go get out of the rain. I watched the apartment building burn for a minute, reflecting on all of the furniture lost and money wasted.

Beside me, one of the onlookers elbowed me in the ribs. “Whoever started that fire ain't gettin' they deposit back.” He laughed at his own joke, and walked off into the night, probably to his car. I stood, staring at what used to be my apartment. I felt groggy, and slumped against the brick wall of the building across the street.

Some time had passed between me getting outside and when an ambulance worker came and hauled me to my feet. “I know, it's pretty shocking. You shouldn't stay out in the cold, you have anywhere else to go?”

“Huh?” I finally broke out of my grogginess, and thought to the cell phone sitting in my pocket. “Yeah, I can go somewhere.”

“Right, get there quick. You don't need a cold right now.” He thumped me twice on the shoulder, and hurried into his ambulance before driving off. I fished my cellphone out of my pocket, and hovered over the first number in my speed dial. My dad still lived downtown, and wouldn't take much time to get to him. He'd be with his girlfriend, though, and he would want to shove it in my face that I failed with my own apartment.

“Screw that,” I told myself, and dialed Sarah. Sarah was something of my best friend, and did a good job of being my main source of socialization in-town. I vaguely knew where she lived, since I knew what bus exit she took, but didn't really have a solid idea of where she lived. It'd beat the hell out of living with my dad again.

After a few rings, I heard a groggy answer, “Mmph... Hello?”

“Uh... Good afternoon, Sarah.”

There was a short pause, “Mark?”

“Yeah... Uh... I need a favor.”

Another pause, this one was probably to check the clock. “Mark, it's midnight. You better have three hells of a good excuse to call me at midnight.”

“My apartment... uh... caught on fire.”

“That's not a go- Hold on, you did what?”

“My apartment burned down...” I had some trouble keeping my voice steady. I was shivering pretty violently, “I need someplace to stay, quick.”

“Oh my God, are you alright?”

“No...” I got to a bus stop and sat down, shivering under the roof of the bench. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Sure, where are you?”

“Bus stop you keep getting off on when we take the bus downtown.”

“Oh. Um... My apartment is just down the road. 2355, it's the building between the two Starbucks.”

“Okay, buzz me up when I get there.”

I ran through the rain for the last time, and got to the apartment. I buzzed the doors randomly until someone let me in, and got inside the lobby. I was shivering pretty hard, and I knew I'd probably be sick in the morning. I started to call Sarah to find out what apartment number she lived in when she appeared in the lobby wearing a long t-shirt.

And nothing else.

I looked at her blankly, and she ran up and hugged me. “Oh my God, Mark, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes.” I told her, leaning into the hug. “Thanks for giving me a place to sleep.”

“Gladly, I'm sorry about your apartment. Let's go upstairs and talk over coffee.”

She stepped back and looked at her own rapidly dampening shirt, “And some dry clothes.”

The apartment itself was small, but comfortable, with lots of girly colors and posh furniture. I sat against at the counter separating the kitchenette and living area, downing the coffee. I wasn't in much more than my boxers, but with Sarah in nothing but a t-shirt, so I was oddly comfortable. My clothes were running through the dryer cycle, and I explained what happened to my apartment while we were waiting for the clothes to dry.

After I had finished my story, Sarah looked pretty calm. I still felt in something of a shock from what happened, considering I was sitting in a girl's living room in nothing but my boxers. “That's terrible, Mark. Did any of your stuff make it?”

“Probably not. The only thing that I'll likely get out of that apartment is the bills.”

“Tough times.” She looked down the hall, and smiled, “Hey there, Leon.”

I turned, horrified that there was another guy in the house. Instead, I saw a small black cat. “Oh...” I said, worry coming out in a sigh, “hey kitty.”

“Mark, this is my kitty Ponce de Leon. Leon, this is my friend, Mark.”

“Hey kitty.” I told it, getting out of the stool to give it a scratch between the ears.

After coffee, Sarah gave me another hug, then went to bed for work in the morning. I thanked her, told her goodnight, and went to go find myself a nice comfortable couch to sleep on. To my surprise, the dark furred cat joined me on the couch. I went to sleep hearing the cat purr.

I woke up hearing the cat speak. “Alright, get up. You've had your sleep. The night has thus arrived. On your feet, time to move out.”

“Huh?” My mind wouldn't clear, but I knew someone was telling me to get up. I rolled off of the couch. “I'm going, I'm going.”

“Hardly the time to be sitting around lolly-gagging. You humans are miserably slow at moving about. On your feet, on the double, let's go.”

I hauled myself to my feet, and looked around for the source of the voice. It had a strong Spanish inflection, vaguely reminiscent of various Antonio Banderas movies I'd watched over college. For some reason, I thought to look down, and saw the cat staring at me. “Well, enough time wasted, let's move, human.”

“Move whe-” Click. “Holy hell and satanic hand baskets, you're a talking cat!”

“And you're a slow human, follow me please.” The cat began toward the door, and I just stood where I was, and gawked. The cat poked its head back in the door, blinked once, and turned back around. Suddenly, on it's own, my body moved toward the cat. The cat took to a jog, which my body decided to match, up the stairs. We jogged that way up two or three flights, and out onto the roof. Rain was still falling in sheets, and the gravel stung against my feet as I walked.

We walked to the lip of the building, and I noticed Sarah and another cat were already sitting on the roof, waiting for us.

“Juan.” Came a voice from Sarah's direction, the other cat. “Your human is slow.”

Leon turned to the other cat, rubbing his face against the other's in a very feline gesture, “Yours was too, when she first started.”

“Slower than yours, in fact.” The other remarked. They turned to me, then Sarah, who stood comfortably in the pouring rain, as if it were common-place.

I glared down at the little cats, “Alright, someone better tell me what the hell is going on.”

The wind gusted hard, and I nearly stumbled over the lip of the building. The light-furred cat sitting next to Sarah turned to me, “Ah, that's our cue.”

“Our cue for wha-” Without any sort of warning, I lobbed myself over the building, and the pavement five stories below rushed up very quickly to greet me.

I closed my eyes, and knew that even if I were going to die, I sure as hell didn't want to watch it.