A Kitten, a Bowl of Soup, and a Towel Walk into a Bar…

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A Kitten, a Bowl of Soup, and a Towel Walk into a Bar… 



The Daily Prompt: An Odd Trio

Today, you can write about whatever you what — but your post must include, in whatever role you see fit, a cat, a bowl of soup, and a beach towel.



Late… again… as usual.

I slurped the last of my Campbell’s Sirloin Steak soup, donned my coat, stuffed two energy bars in my left pocket, grabbed the keys, and locked the door.

Thankful that my moonlighting delivery job was just three blocks away, I quickly straddled my Pinarello and headed to The RTI.

Having lost my full-ride scholarship due to a campus clerical error, I was moonlighting with campus deliveries for the research department of RTI until my chemistry professors would allow me back into the lab.

We were just beginning round two of our clinical trials on a drug that would revolutionize the exercise conglomerates. We had been working at perfecting an energy drink that contained not only the electrolytes that an athlete’s body needs during intense training, but the drink contains enzymes that allow the athletic trainers to track your muscle twitch and static contractions. This would allow the trainers, while sitting with their laptops, reading your energy-elevation-outputs, to know ahead of time when an athlete is beginning to experience dehydration. Then medical intervention could happen before the athlete experiences muscle cramps. (IMPORTATNT NOTE: This is all in my imagination- NONE of it is real!!!)

Riding to the back door of the RTI lab, I rang the bell. Instantly the door opened and I was tossed a box.

“To the incinerator.” And the door closed.

The curtness of my greeting was surprising. I knew all the guys on the research team. They all knew that my dismissal was not my fault. I was still a full team member on the council… I thought.

I rested the box on the handle bars of my bike and began the short stint to the waste disposal facilities at Corbell.

I usually had to pedal there once an evening. We were careful with the disposal and incineration of all of our research findings. Theft was a major fear in clinical trials.

Rarely … Actually NEVER … had I made the ride to the waste facilities first thing. Suddenly, in box twitched on the handle bars of my bike and feel to the street.

I skidded to a stop.

The sealing tape on the lid of the box had opened and strewn to one side lay a towel with a big red bear emblazoned upon it. Then I saw the bear twitch.

I carefully pried just a little more of the tape from the lid.

A small, furry paw was experiencing severe muscle spasms as its tiny, kitten body lay skewered on the towel- like a frog ready to be dissected.

My stomach suddenly arose and found the ground beside of my fallen parcel.

What had they done?

What was I involved with?

I was with them, but I knew nothing that would cause such a horrific torture to such an innocent creature.

I placed my index finger next to its tiny pulsating neck.

Its heart was racing.

What was I to do?

In front of me was the waste facilities.

Did I dispose of this ghastly living apparition and pretend that I knew nothing about it?

I knew the formulas for the RTI muscle relaxants. Many of the components were common home ingredients.

Did I take this innocent babe home? Was I to become the mad scientist to counter what was happening in the RTI labs?

Did my professors even know what was happening? No way they would allow such grisly research? Would they?

I found myself astride my bike and earnestly pedaling toward home.

The parcel was closed and tightly secured to the handlebars.

Apparently, the decision had been made?



In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Odd Trio.”

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