Read The Stranger's Woes for Free Online

thing I need is a poet around the house.
    “Are you in the service of Sir Max, young man?” my guest inquired amiably.
    Sinning Magicians, he had a French accent to boot! And it was rather charming.
    “How did you land it? Catch?”
    “Land what?” I said, then launched into the penultimate cleaning ritual of the day: a quick dash around the almost pristine room with the wet rag.
    “No catch? You don’t understand?”
    “Oh! I dig.”
    Now it was his turn to bat his lovely almond-shaped eyelids in consternation. This was tit for tat. Slang from two different Worlds, mutually unintelligible. I wanted to take my hat off to such a singular historical encounter, but, alas, I wasn’t even wearing a turban.
    “Who might you be, my dear chap?” I said, starting in on about the eighth windowsill. A hole in the heavens above this sinning palace of an apartment, and above Sir Juffin Hully who had found these “humble lodgings” for me!
    “I am Sir Anday Pu, senior reporter for the Royal Voice ,” the stranger said. “Catch? Not from any old Echo Hustle and Bustle , but—”
    “You’re really a senior reporter?” I said, doubtfully. The last name wasn’t familiar to me. Considering my passion for accumulating newsprint, this was rather strange. But I did have a bad memory for names.
    “Well, one of the seniors. What’s the diff?” my penguinesque friend said with a shrug. “Our editor, Sir Rogro Jiil, has asked me to do a story on Sir Max’s cats, who will eventually become the parents of the first Royal Felines. I decided I simply had to meet Sir Max in person. My colleagues, those cowardly plebs, whisper terrible tales about your master behind his back. By the way, could you stand me a mug of kamra, pal?”
    When I paused in my chores and turned around, I discovered that he had already seated himself at my table and was distractedly rearranging my cups. Why did I even bother cleaning up?
    “Look in the jug,” I grumbled. “Maybe there’s something left, I don’t remember.”
    A soft gurgling sound ended my doubts. I sighed, then turned to face my final task. I started unfurling the weighty Kettarian carpet. If I had taken the trouble to lug the rug all the way from Kettari, I deserved the pleasure of seeing it unrolled, at least.
    “Will Sir Max be home soon?” Anday said with his mouth full.
    Drat, now he was scarfing down my breakfast.
    “I don’t know,” I barked out. “He’ll be back when he pleases. And I’m going upstairs to bed, so I’m afraid I’ll have to interrupt your meal.”
    “Take it easy, man! I’ll just wait for him in the living room. At the same time, I’ll get acquainted with his cats. Where are they, by the way?”
    “I guess they’re sleeping on the bed in my room,” I said. “Didn’t it ever occur to you to just come back later?”
    “You no catch,” Anday blurted out. “I have to show my story to the editor no later than tomorrow. If Sir Max doesn’t come home before evening, sound the alarm! And if I don’t even manage to see the cats—well, the dinner’s over.”
    His eyes were filled with such anguish that my stony heart started to crack ever so slightly. I shuffled the empty food bowls around on the floor invitingly, and in no time I heard the patter of their stubby kitty legs on the stairs. My furry beasties never turn down the opportunity for a little snack, no matter how often I feed them.
    “Here they are,” I said proudly, filling up their bowls. “Observe them, study their habits, but don’t take it into your head to eat their food. They might turn violent. They’ll go for the jugular, and it’s curtains for you.”
    “It’s what?”
    “Curtains. Like, you’re dead. Dig?”
    “Ah, like somethin’ bad ’ s gonna happen. Where did you go to school, anyway? In college we used to say ‘the dinner’s over.’ But I catch! By the way, is there anything to eat around here? I mean, Sir Max is a rich guy, and it’s not going to make a dent