Old friends

Hobie and Flash

“Hobie, you awake?”

“No!”

“You just answered me, so you must be.”

“Somniloquy.”

“What?”

“Somniloquy. It’s a parasomnia. It means talking in your sleep.”

“Why not call it that instead of somni-whatever and para-thingumyjig?”

“Usual reason.”

“Just to make me think you’re smart?”

“No. To make you know that I’m smart. Now shaddap and get back to sleep.”

“It’s not just me. You’re awake, too.”

“Am not.”

“Are so. You’re talking to me.”

“We should both be fast asleep.”

“You? Fast asleep? Look at yourself, then look at me and tell me which of us should be fast asleep.”

“Both.”

“Hobie, you are fat and slow.”

“Big-boned, not fat.”

“What did you weigh last time we went to the vet?”

“Fifty-two.”

“Pounds?”

“Kilos.”

“And I was twenty-three kilos. Look at my lines: sleek, aerodynamic and powerful. Then look at yours: pure lard. Hardly built for speed. I should be fast asleep, you should be slow asleep.”

“I’ll grant you that I’m just a tiny bit heavy. I don’t hear you complaining these cold nights, though, when you want someone to snuggle up to for warmth.”

“True that.”

“So what did you want?”

“When?”

“When you woke me up to ask me if I was awake.”

“Oh, that. I’ve forgotten.”

“Go back to sleep, then!”

“Okay. Goodnight, Hobie.”

“Goodnight, Flash.”


This was written in response to Kreative Kue 228 published on this site.

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