Satan's Kitten

There is a devil inside me. His name is Lucinda. He's a post-op gender confused male. He speaks ever so quietly in my bowels. "It's ok to hate people," he says to me, "I do." I believe him.

Just before dusk near the local grocery store, a man drove a Transporter GL Power Scooter, made by Tom Kruse inventor of Hoveround, directly in front of my walking path and stopped. Harlem is Hoveround central--scooters everywhere. It irked me that there was a 90% probability that this guy paid little to no cost for this fine 3-wheeled device. Next, he put the scooter in reverse, intermittent beeping followed. My eyes caught one of his eyes. His other eye caught the man next to me, an unfair advantage.

"Meeoow," he said as the scooter's front wheel rolled over my big toe. "Lucinda says hello." He continued to cross the street in reverse, meowing all the while. Look both ways before you cross the street, I thought to say, but of course he didn't need to turn his head at all.

Under normal circumstances, I would have returned to my domicile complacent, but on this day, I was a lowlife dog, "Ruff," I barked back at him. Lucinda's evildoer had it all: advanced eyesight, personal motor-powered transportation with near flight capabilities, and gifted animal calls. I am jealous of this mystery man, and I hate him for it.

Next time I see him, I am going to unravel a ball of yarn right in front of his face ... but then, of course, he might not be able to see that, so I'll have to re-plot my revenge. Drats!