Mr. Chester...A Short Story

It's time for another short story!

This week's story will include something to so with these two pictures. And I have no idea what I'm going to write. It's like that most of the time, but once I have an idea, the actual writing comes quite easily. So, you should give it a try, too! Here are the rules:

1) Use the two photos in your story.
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday night to link up your post.
4) Add your story (Blue Link) at Leanne's, Debb's or Tena's websites.

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

And so, here goes nothing!

Mr. Chester

"So, what do you want to do?" I asked my tiny apartment's newest occupant, Mr. Chester.

Mr. Chester said nothing, only looked at me in an indifferent way known only to cats. If I could read the minds of cats, not only would I be rich, but I would know what this animal--an animal in my house only an hour--was thinking. Was he hungry? Was he thinking of various ways of killing me in my sleep? Was he missing Jake?

He was probably missing Jake.

Ah, Jake. Quick--think of a person most unlikely to ever own a cat! Do you have the person in mind? Now, let me ask you, is the "non-cat-owning" person that you're thinking about a Harley Davidson owner covered in tattoos, with a long beard and a shaved head, weighing approximately 250 lbs?

It you're thinking about someone like that, then you're thinking about Jake Hess.

Growing up, Jake and I were inseparable. We played together on little league teams, had the same model BMX bikes, and even had crushes on the same girls. Once we hit high school Jake got into motorcycles and never came back. I liked bikes, too, but not like him. Obsession is too mild a word when describing Jake's love affair with the two-wheeled mode of transportation.

I couldn't believe when he told me he had a cat, like when a beautiful girl tells you she slaughters cows for a living--it just didn't compute. Jake drove semis for a living and after he stopped off at a truck stop in Pittsburgh one cold December evening, the kitten had climbed up in the truck's wheel well to get warm. If he hadn't heard the meowing, the soon-to-be-named Mr. Chester probably would have frozen to death or been crushed as he pulled out.

One look at that freezing, starving kitten and Jake's heart melted. He brought him home, got him his shots, and even built him a home/cat jungle gym any cat would be proud to call their own.

Jake found a job after being unemployed for six months, so Jake asked if I'd adopt Mr. Chester. The new job meant living in the truck hauling coffee up and down the East Coast. Some truckers had animals live with them in their rigs. Cats, however--not the best choice. He just dropped him off an hour ago. Though he'd never admit it, I swear I saw a tear fall from that big man's eye.

Mr. Chester glanced around the room, then again at me. "Nope," I told the black and white (with a little tan thrown in...) tabby. "I don't know what to do, either. I guess we'll just have to wing it."

Word Count: 456