“Doggone It, I’m Still Feline for Him”
During the last stream, special guest Abbey joined us, and to celebrate we had the subscribers pick a prompt topic to do that Abbey has never tried before. They voted on “write a trashy story,” so that’s exactly what we did.
For our stream, we defined “trashy story” as basically a soap opera romance that has no real significance or meaning, it’s just drama and conflict for the sake of drama and conflict. And there’s usually some sort of love-twist like werewolves, vampires, or sea-monster men.
But we decided to go in a slightly different direction….
Watch the full video here or scroll down for the story.
Chat voted that our trashy story be about a woman falling into a love triangle with her dog and cat.
Here’s what we came up with:
I stared in the mirror at my face that no one would ever love again, now that my wonderful boyfriend was dead. Mascara streaked down from my stormy-blue eyes from hours of crying, and my hay-colored hair was as limp as my dead lover.
Jeremy had been the love of my life. We’d met at the University College in London, during my study abroad junior year. I’d always been so shy and meek and didn’t have many friends, so I decided to put myself out there and get out of my comfort zone for one semester.
Of course, classic me, it was a disaster. I only left my dorm room to dash out in my pajamas to grab chocolate digestives from the Tesco. The cookies may have had a weird name, but they saved my life. I basically lived on those “biscuits” for my first week there, dreading when I would finally have to go to class.
I could barely understand the cashier’s accent, what if I didn’t understand my professors? What if I got paired up with somebody and they laughed at my “American-ness?” I’d made a mistake in coming here.
The morning of my first British Literature class, I didn’t go to the lecture hall, I took a detour to the administration office instead. I was going to withdraw from the university and go back home.
But on my way there, something caught my eye. It was a person on display behind a glass case sitting on a chair wearing old-fashioned garb from 200 years ago. Stopping in my tracks, I read the plaque explaining who he was. His name was Jeremy Bentham, and it was in his will to be taxidermied and displayed after he’d died. Now he sat here, for all eternity, watching students pay their tuition fees and sign up for classes.
“Kind of gross isn’t it?” came a voice from behind me. I turned around to see the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.
He was wearing a navy blazer over a vintage, faded Davie Bowie t-shirt, with jeans that clung to his muscular legs. He must’ve needed pliers to zip those tight babies up. But most of all, he was wearing a smile on his dark face, with the whitest and nicest teeth I’d seen in all of London. His hair was a lion’s mane of sunkissed tresses, flowing to his broad shoulders and off his chiseled chin, begging to be stroked.
I could tell from a single glance that he was the king of this jungle, and for some reason, he was looking right at me with his glowing hazel eyes.
“E-excuse me?” I stuttered, trying to regain my composure. He just stepped closer to me, making my heart skip a beat, as he pointed to the taxidermied man behind me.
“Having this guy on display is kind of gross,” he said. “Although I suppose it’s worse for me, since he has my name too.”
“Oh, your name’s Bentham?” I asked awkwardly. He chuckled, his shoulders bobbling slightly.
“No, I’m Jeremy,” he said. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m assuming you don’t share a name with any taxidermied weirdos?”
“Not that I know of,” I said, hoping I wasn’t blushing too much. “I’m Nicole.”
“Well, Nicole,” Jeremy said, “if this taxidermied body over here was half as nice as yours, then I’d visit the administrative office every day.”
No one had ever said anything like that to me before. I got so caught up in talking with Jeremy that I completely forgot about withdrawing. He walked with me back across campus, we swapped phone numbers, and he said he wanted to meet for lunch at the dining commons.
Even though I missed my first class, I never missed another one all semester. Apparently the cure for my anxiety was a daily dose of Jeremy.
Until now.
Jeremy and I both finished school in our own countries, him in London and me in Ohio. We Facetimed each other every day… usually with most of our clothes on. We talked about how he would come to live in the U.S. when we graduated, both of us moving to New York to pursue our careers together.
The entire time we’d been in London, Jeremy had been secretive about his life. He’d never told me about his family, and since I didn’t want to bring up any sensitive topics, I never asked either.
But then when I returned to the U.S. he started sending me gifts every week. Expensive lingerie, fancy perfume, and first-edition copies of my favorite books: Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Little Women, and even Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. I couldn’t help but smirk when I saw that one. Whether the title was better as Sorcerer’s Stone or not was always a hot topic between us.
Jeremy and his family were obviously filthy rich. I can’t say that wasn’t a bit of a turn on too; he could have any girl in the world, buy anything he wanted, and yet he chose me.
I worried about our relationship all the time. How could someone like Jeremy possibly be in love with me? Was I even worthy of his love? I’d been hurt before, and I needed to know.
When I asked him during our nightly conversations, he said that my insecurity was exactly one of the reasons he loved me. All the other rich girls, they were so full of themselves that there was no room for love inside of them. Plus, who else could he argue with about whether or not you could actually take down a troll by shoving a wand up its nose… followed by him telling me where he’d put his wand when he came to visit.
That was the extent of our arguments: nerdy Harry Potter trivia and deciding who would hang up first each night. Jeremy was perfect. We were perfect.
Then he got hit by the bus.
It was right after graduation, and Jeremy was coming to move in with me. On the way to the airport, a double decker bus ran a red light and smacked right into him in the crosswalk. I was thankful his pain must’ve been over quickly, though mine would last forever.
Now I’m sitting here, in my fifth floor New York apartment that had been bought by Jeremy for us to live in, but now only had me.
Well, that’s not entirely true. There was Norman and Philip too.
Norman the cat and Philip the dog bounded into my room and right onto my lap. I’d rescued them both as soon as I’d gotten the news about Jeremy, knowing that I couldn’t endure living alone. Norman was a Bengal male with orange and brown spots like a mini leopard, and Philip was a black and tan Shiba male with an eternal smile on his face.
Norman curled up in my lap and started purring, and Philip rubbed against my leg, licking my hand.
I couldn’t help but laugh. It hurt to laugh, but I needed to do it. Jeremy had been my rock, my anchor of sanity, my pillar of love, but he was gone now. If I was going to move on with my life, I needed help, and Norman and Philip were there to provide it.
“Thank you,” I whispered down to both of them. Surprisingly, both Norman and Philip looked right at me, as if they’d understood my words.
“You’re welcome,” they both said in unison, in British accents that were eerily reminiscent of Jeremy’s.
That’s when I proceeded to freak the hell out.
That’s the end of chapter one! Pretty suspenseful, isn’t it? If you want some juicy hints of where the story would go after that, be sure to watch the video!
And if you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
