The cat followed her home one filthy night. Not proof against obvious need she invited it in.
Now it was a fixture.
A summer Sunday and the beer was icy, but the man wasn’t to be pacified.
“You can’t get around me with a measly bottle of lager. All I’m asking for is a trifling loan.”
“I said no.”
He smashed the bottle on the edge of the table.
“How about five thou not to carve up your face?”
The cat came from nowhere landing on his face, which offered opportunity for the kick to the balls that dropped him.