It was already dark when the man arrived home that night. His wife was still awake, and her eyes pierced through the darkness like the eyes of an angry wife whose husband has come home late and drunk.
“Where have you been?” she asked the man icily.
“I have quit my job,” he said drunkenly.
She was speechless. “How could you?” she asked. “How could you?“
“Please, hear me out!” he begged as she turned away from him coldly. “I have a plan.”
“We already had a plan,” she replied frostily. “You go to work. You stab the kittens. You bring home a paycheck, and we’re able to eat. That was the plan we agreed to.”
“Is man meant to be a slave?” he asked.
“What other choice is there?” she replied.
“I have a different vision for myself,” said the man. “No more will I let someone else tell me when I am to arrive for my shift and how the sweat of my brow should best fill his pockets. I have decided that I no longer wish to stab kittens, and I shall be the master of my own fate. I shall become an owner, and run my own factory how I see fit.”
His wife looked to him, warmingly. “But… how?”
He began to explain his plan. “By pre-whipping cats, we will deliver an enhanced product to our consumers, thus consolidating the supply chain under our control. With the proper marketing, no one will deign to have an un-whipped pussy.”
“This is Greek to me,” said his wife.
“Of course,” he said. “You are but a woman. Business is the domain of men. Men such as me.”
“Oh husband,” she said to him. “Why did I not trust your instincts?”
“It is a failing of your weaker sex,” he said, “but the better part of love is mercy. I will whip these pussies, and I will whip them knowing that each one shall make our fortunes swell.”
“And someday,” she said, “perhaps we can move to the good side of town, where the water is clean and no one needs to lock their doors at night!”
“This is my new dream” he said. “My dreams of the farm were a foolish fantasy. But I shall become an owner and I shall make this new dream come true.” Taking her firmly about the waist, he whispered in her ear. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
PAUL LAFARGUE enjoys lazy Sundays sleeping in and snuggling with his own kitten, Laura. He currently resides in Paris, France, where he currently focuses on his writing.