Various Vilifications

Marco and Me

"Yeah, sure. I can fix this," the plumber tells me. His legs are the only thing still visible after the rest of him disappeared entirely under the kitchen sink. "Shouldn't take more than a few minutes. Hang on..."

Still not fully awake, I take a sip from my coffee watching him. Some scrambled eggs and a half-eaten PB&J sandwich are spread out on the plate in front of me. Early breakfast that is. Why do these people always have to come by so early? Not that I don't appreciate their help, but still.

"So," he says. "What do you do?"

"Huh?"

"Like, as a job?"

"Oh, right. Uh, I work in IT. If you wanna call it that."

"So you're good with computers and stuff?"

"Right."

"Huh," he remarks. "How's that paying off?."

"I get by," I tell him. "I mean, I get all the benefits from my employer. Insurance, paid vacation, stuff like that. The money could be better, but you won't see me complain." I sigh. "Lately, most of my salary's been spent on cat food anyway."

"Yeah, I saw the dumpster outside, just loaded up with empty cans," the plumber wonders. "What's up with that anyway?"

"Well, you see," I start to explain, but I don't really have to. The answer to his questions comes strolling into the kitchen just then, and he's just as much a sorry sight this morning as I probably am.

Wings folded against his back, Marco wearily drags his 300-something pounds forward. Stopping short of the plumber's legs, he stares at them bemusedly for a moment. A yawn escapes his throat, briefly exposing his fangs.

"Did you turn another light on out there?" the plumber wonders. I didn't, of course. It's just Marco's halo radiating throughout the room in a sickly lime green color that doesn't look healthy to me at all. Unsure how to phrase my response, I decide to just not say anything at all. The plumber doesn't seem to mind.

"I was wondering what all the noise was all about. Forgot this guy was gonna be over," Marco grumbles, as he attempts to push the pair of legs aside. "Hey, excuse me. But I have the worst hangover right now."

I frown. It takes a lot of red wine to get a fully grown lion into the state he's currently in. I don't know if the wings or the supposed sainthood implied by that Ikea lampshade behind his skull have any influence on his drinking capacities, but I don't really care either. Right now, I shake my head in disapproval, trying to make him feel bad. He just brushes me off.

"Who's that?" the plumber asks. He doesn't see what's happening out here of course. "That your son or something?"

"More like my roommate."

"Oh, I see. That job of yours not paying so well after all?"

"How about you just do yours?"

"Uh...sure. On it."

Marco's gaze slowly wanders back and forth between me and the plumber's legs during our short interaction. Once or twice, he absent-mindedly tugs at the blue shirt that covers his upper forelegs, shoulder blades and part of his torso. The part on his chest reads something like Avanti Azzuri in capital golden letters. Whatever that means.

I suppose I should be happy if half of what was said even arrived in that thick brain of his. He doesn't look very attentive. More like he's gonna be sick, really.

"Care for some breakfast?"

"Not hungry," he mumbles. "I could go for some painkillers though...what?" he adds, seeing my disappointed look.