No I’m not dead. Just busy, I worked 54 hours Friday-Monday, had today off and tomorrow I start at 9.30 am and don’t finish until 9.30 am Thursday… stuff is happening, I’ll get into that this weekend when I have time to post.
The reason for this post is that I want to ask a favour, which is a little cheeky I admit when I can’t even muster up enough energy to read through my flist, but I’m gonna ask anyway.
I’ve been slowly, slowly sneaking into writing J2 I’m not sure it’s for me yet, but I have a plot I’m working on. But I’m feeling a bit like I’m writing spangel only with different names. I don’t know if that’s normal, I’ve only ever written spangel before so I was wondering if some of you who read J2 could read what I’ve got and tell me what you think. Is it crap? Is it spangel? Is it ok?
Anyway, I’m placing what I’ve got which is about 5000 words of a very rough draft behind a cut read it if you want but please, if you do, tell me what you think.
Edit: Just wanted to point out, that I am of course am planning on having it betad if I decide to continue. So yeah, rough draft, lots of misstakes just wanted to know if it’s good enough to continue working on.
Hugs
Jensen Ackles doesn’t exist. If you ask someone on the street they’ve never heard the name mentioned, ever. You could knock on every door in his apartment building and no one would know who you’re asking about. Someone might, after you’ve given a lengthy physical description put two and two together and realise that you might be talking about that guy in 13B who never looks you in the eye and made some stuttering noises the first time they said hello. Then they’ll tell you that they never got more then stuttering noises so after the third or fourth time they just stopped trying and forgot all about him. You could ask at the museum he works in, but the name Jensen Ackles will just draw blank stares from the people working there. You might, if you’re lucky stumble on one of the security guards working the grave yard shift. One of them might, might recall that janitor guy whose eyes are always glued to the ground and who after ten years still hasn’t said a word.
You can’t get in touch with any friends because he doesn’t have any, any attempt to locate a family member would be a waist of time because well, he doesn’t have any of those either. In fact, the only person who really knows that Jensen Ackles exists is well, Jensen Ackles and to be honest most day’s not even he is so sure about that.
Jensen Ackles is thirty years old and no one on this planet sees him. He’s invisible, a shadow walking among normal people who has friends and lovers and a family. It’s not as if he hasn’t tried connecting, with other people that is, he has. He’s just really bad at it. He can’t seam to get any further then broken off sounds stuck in his throat and even if he did, even if he could talk to people, what would he say?
“Hi my name is Jensen Ackles, my parents died when I was a baby; I have no memory of them. Child Protective Service put me in foster care with a paranoid, sadistic old couple who was convince that the soviet union was going to launch the bomb at us at any moment. So my childhood was spent mostly in our “bomb shelter”, which really was only an ordinary basement, painted with special “radiation resistant” lavender paint.
I was home schooled because apparently all Americas teachers were really undercover communists sent to brainwash us and to make sure I didn’t turn “read” they spent the majority of their time beating me half to death. The first time I really got to be around other people was after I turned eighteen and was kicked out when they found an acceptance letter from a college, which really wasn’t an acceptance letter from a college but a “secret message” from the “red bastards” and how could I stay with them when I had now been recruited.
So, I have no social skills, no idea how to interact with other people. I don’t under stand any social pop-cultural references, because they never let me watch TV and the only movies that where allowed in the house where old 50th propaganda film and no matter how hard I try to learn, to catch up with everything I missed it will always be to obvious that I’m damage so you’ll always feel uncomfortable in my presence.” No, he might be socially inadequate but even he understands that it wouldn’t be a good thing to say.
So he lives his life as best as he can, goes through his daily routines and tries to be content with what little he has. He’s Jensen Ackles and no one sees him and that’s how it’s going to stay for how ever long he’s got the strength to hang on and not give in t the call of the 38 revolver in his night stand.
This is probably why it happens to him, no one sees him so no one will miss him. It’s obvious that they’ve done their homework. The museum is closed; Jensen always comes in once everyone except the security guards has left. That way he can avoid having to talk to anyone, he can just slip by the bored security guards watching whatever game is on, on their little TV standing on their desk and silently get to work.
Every day is the same, every move slowly etched into his bones from years and years of repeating them. He doesn’t like his job, who would? But being him it’s the best he can ever dream of getting. He wanted to be a photographer, snapping pictures of people around him makes him feel close, like he has some semblance of human contact without actually having to approach them. But it will never be anything more than a hobby; you can’t be a real photographer without interacting with people. So he come here every night, sweeping floors, wiping benches scrubbing toilets, it’s what he does and he hates every minute of it but someone like him can’t ask for more.
In hindsight he realises that had he just stayed put, had he not worried about the shoelace sticking out from under the desk he was hiding beneath, they probably wouldn’t have seen him. But he did.
It’s just like any other night, when his life is turned upside down; it’s just typical that the first person to actually really see him turns out to be a thief. He doesn’t notice anything is wrong, doesn’t hear them coming, doesn’t see them looting the renaissance section, replacing the priceless works of art with fakes. It’s not until he a little too early reaches the security guards desk and sees it empty that he starts wondering. When he notices the blank security monitors and a small speckle of blood on the desk shiny surface he knows without a doubt that this night is going to end badly.
If he’d been thinking straight, if he wasn’t crippled by fears he probably would have tried to make it to an exit, gotten the hell out of there or even tried to find a better place to hide then under the desk. But he didn’t, he crawled under the desk sitting down with his arms around his knees trying to make himself as small as possible. It’s when he hears hushed voice approaching that he notices the shoelace, hanging untied form his boots, the end of it sticking out from under the desk. He doesn’t think things through; he just reacts, reaching out and pulling it in under the desk. When the hushed voices turns into a screaming silence he knows that was a big mistake.
A few short seconds goes by, his racing heart beating out a steady sound of tick tack, tick tack, inside of him until;
“Well hello there, you’re a bit early, aren’t you Jensen.”
He shuts his eyes tightly, burrowing his head down between his knees, telling himself that if he doesn’t look at him, he won’t be a witness and if he’s not a witness they’ll have no need to hurt him.
He can hear the voices starting up again.
“Well shit, what do we do now?”
“Just knock him out and throw him in with the guards, he won’t be able to identify us anyhow.”
“We don’t know that, fuck; he could have been sneaking around her all the time without us noticing. Damn it, for all we know the cops could be on their way.”
“Jared?”
“I guess there’s only one thing to do. Chad, go to the employee changing room and see if he’s got some stuff there, if he does, bring it.”
“Jensen, look at me.”
He keeps his head hidden between his knees until on large hand grabs the back of his neck and pulls it up forcing him to meet hazel eyes.
“I have good and bad news for you Jensen. The bad news is that you chose the wrong day to be good at your job. The good news is that you get to take a vacation.”
He doesn’t understand at first, not even when strong hands pulls him out from under the desk and black cloth is tied in front of his eye. Even as silver tape is put over his mouth and hard metal snaps around his wrists he still doesn’t understand. It’s not until those same hands hoists him up over a firm shoulder just a little too easily that he starts to realise that maybe, just maybe he’s in even bigger trouble then he thought.
He feels the cool nigh air hit his face and then the body beneath him talking a few short steps upward and then inside again. He’s carefully put down on a soft mattress and then the unmistakable sound of a large engine starts up and he knows, right then and there as whatever he’s in starts moving, that he is without a doubt absolutely fucked.
He’s not sure how long he lies there hearing people moving around talking in hushed voices without him being able to make out any actual words. All he knows that whatever he’s in is driving away, fast and he has no idea where. Eventually he can make out the sound of heavy footsteps coming his way, when the sounds stops he can feel the mattress dip as someone sits down beside him. A warm hand comes down to touch his face;
“How’re you holding up Jensen? Look, you don’t have to worry, no one’s going to hurt you, we just couldn’t risk leaving you there. If I take away the gag do you promise not to scream?”
If Jensen was the type of person who laughed, he figures this would be something to laugh about. He can’t even talk to people, most time she can’t even produce any type of sound so screaming, no, he’s not s screamer. Of course the man beside him doesn’t know that.
“Jensen, you’re gonna have to nod your head or something if you want me to take it off.”
So he does, because even if he never talks or makes sounds it’s still not a very nice feeling to have a piece of duck tape covering your mouth.
“Alright, good, this is gonna hurt a bit.”
As the tape is swiftly ripped of Jensen thinks that the “a bit” comment might have been a slight understatement from the other mans part. To put it bluntly, it hurts like a son of a bitch, reflexively his tongue comes out to moist his stinging lips. He hears the sound of a soda can being opened and then a hand comes behind his head to hold it up as the can is pushed to his lips and the sickly sweet taste of coke is poured into his mouth.
“Jensen, what is this, did you hear me boy, what is this!?!”
“Coke”
“What the hell where you thinking, boy, bringing this poison into my house?”
“But, it’s, I was thirsty and, it’s American so…”
“American, you think this is American Jensen. I don’t even know why I bother with you, you just never learn. This is not American Jensen, everyone knows that the Coca Cola Company is secretly owned by the “union” and is run by undercover KGB agents. They want to poison us Jensen; don’t you know that one of the main ingredients is Amphetamine? They want to turns us all into drug addicts.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”
“No you didn’t, you never do Jensen, you never think.”
“Please, I’m sorry. Please don’t.”
“You gotta learn Jensen; it’s for your own good.”
The taste is kind of disappointing; he’s never been able to drink it again, not even after he left. As the taste fills his mouth it’s not as exotic and forbidden as he remembers those few mouthfuls he once had to be. But then considering the beating he took it’s probably not that strange that he’s unconsciously made the drink into so much more than it really is.
Disappointing or not it’s still kind of nice so he keep swallowing until the bubbles goes to his nose and he tries to move away. The can is pulled away along with the hand behind his neck and he’s left lying on his back once again. He expects the man to leave but instead Jensen feels the bed dip some more until he can feel his side pressing into another body and he realises that the man has lain down beside him.
He can feel his body go rigid as a finger touches his face and starts tracing the line of his jaw.
“Relax Jensen, I’m just looking.” Jensen thinks that his kidnapper needs to wiki the word look, especially considering that the finger tracing his jaw is now a hand cupping his face as a rough thumb traces his bottom lip. “Well, maybe I’m touching a bit too but damn, if you’ve looked into a mirror recently you won’t blame me.”
If Jensen was brave he’d probably put up a fight, try to get away or maybe even just move his head, do something to make it clear that he’s not appreciating the attention, he’s not. But then, Jensen learned long ago that putting up a fight usually leads to it hurting more than it would have to begin with. It’s better to just take whatever it is they want to give from the start; even if it might not hurt less it’s over quicker.
Suddenly the hand is removed and the bed dips again as his jailor stands up. Jensen can hear the sound of blinds being let down and shut and then a light being switched on before the bed dips again.
“I’m gonna take the blindfold of now, ok, you don’t need to wear it in here.” He feels rough fingers against the back of his head as the black cloth covering his eyes is removed. He quickly shuts his eyes as the bright light assaults them, a few moments later he blinks a little before he’s able to open them without any discomfort.
As a result of having his eye sight back Jensen realises two things. One, he’s lying on a bed in a tiny room, the door isn’t closed so he can see into a hallway lined with two bunks on either side and further to a kitchen and seating area. He can’t see all the way to the end but he knows no the less that he’s on one of those big ass busses bands use for touring.
The other thing is that the man next to him is, as he suspected, the same one he saw in the museum. Jensen allows himself to really look this time; after all he’s already been kidnapped, so he doesn’t think getting a better look at his assailant will make any difference now.
He’s big; naturally, it would take a big guy to hoist Jensen over his shoulder like a damn ragdoll. Which makes it an even lesser surprise that he’s packed, he’s wearing black sweats and a white wife beater which does nothing to hide the fact that he’s in no way a stranger to lifting heavy things.
The biggest surprise however is that he looks kind, an art thief who apparently has no problem kidnapping someone shouldn’t look kind. But he does, with his floppy brown hair, his slanting eyes managing to stay warm while intensely fixed on his victim.
It’s the eyes that make Jensen lower his own; he’s not used to people looking at him, much less like they’re trying to see him.
“So, Jensen… it’s nice, really nice, to finally see you in a room that’s not dark.” He lies down on his side on the bed; his head resting on one propped-up hand facing Jensen. “I’m Jared, in case you’re wondering. How’re you feeling?”
He’s not sure if Jared actually expects an answer, not that he would get one either way, but as he continues talking without really allowing enough time for an answer Jensen figures his speech disability won’t really matter.
“It’s probably not how you pictured your night ending huh? Yeah, I can see that, you weren’t exactly in our plans either. Look, just so you know we’re not gonna execute you, shop you up to pieces and bury the parts all over the country. We just need some time to finish our business and when that’s done we’ll… figure something out.”
It’s a little comforting, although the “figuring something out” part is just a little to hazy for his taste, also he’d like to know just how long “some time” is and well, it’s probably all lies anyway and they’re probably already making plans to turn him into fish food but, it’s a nice gesture.
“And hey, with a little luck, by then you’ll have succumbed to my charm and over-all manliness and decided that you like being my hostage and stay of your own free will and we’ll have lots of dirty sex on top of the fitly amount of money I’ll have made.”
Jared must have noticed the way his eyes widen and him turning a shade paler because he adds soon after; “Too soon? Yeah, I can see that, my mistake, we’ll let you get settled into all of this before we talk about me seducing you again. Although you really should consider it, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time tighter for the next few weeks, months, years, well to be honest I’m not sure about exactly how long we’ll be spending together but, anyway. I’m hot and manly, and you well, you’re too man-pretty to be true and where we’re going it’s gonna be many long and cold days and nights so… yeah ok, too soon, right. I’m starving, you hungry? Of course you are, so food, you’re really quite, you know that?”
Jared gets up from the bed and starts walking out of the room while Jensen does his best to try and processes the millions of words leaving Jared’s mouth a mile a minute. Suddenly he stops again and turns around, “Oh, and also I’m freaking incredible in bed so, really think bout it,” before he turns back and walks towards the kitchen.
“Who’s that?”
“Jensen Ackles, he works in maintenances.”
“Jesus.”
“Jared.”
“What?”
“Nothing as long as you remember why we’re doing this.”
“Hey, who came up with this plan in the first place? I know what we’re doing.
“Good, keep it that way.”
“Hey, give that back. Chris, I’m warning you.”
“Not a chance, I’m confiscating this picture until the jobs finished.”
“So now I can’t even look.”
“No, god I knew I shouldn’t have shown you this one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that everyone, especially me, knows you’ve got it bad for the pretty and this one here on this picture is just as pretty as it gets.”
“Ok, I’m man enough to admit my weaknesses, doesn’t mean I was gonna do anything stupid You know I wouldn’t risk a job for the pretty.”
“I know, just reminding you.”
“Unless…”
“No Jared, we’re not stealing him.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Deal with it.”
Jared return a few minutes later carrying what looks like a very big stainless steel mixing bowl in one hand and two bottles of soda in the other. He puts the items down on the small bedside table before sitting down on the bed beside Jensen reaching out and pulling him up into a sitting position, letting him lean against the wall behind the bed. He reaches over to the table and picks up the bowl setting it down in his lap. Jensen looks down in the bowl seeing it filled to the brim with what’s undoubtedly mac&cheese from a box and a spoon standing up in the middle of it.
Jared catches him looking and shrugs his shoulders a little as he says; “Sorry, it’s all we got right now. The food will get better as soon as we got of this damn buss.” Jared picks up the spoon and shuffles a big bite into his mouth before filling the spoon again and bringing it to Jensen’s mouth. He knows the taste even before the spoon enters his mouth, hates it, but there’s no way of knowing when he’ll be feed again so he accepts it.
“Mac&Chees?”
“Twelve boxes, Mrs. Blue.”
“Beaked beans?”
“Eight cans, Mrs. Blue.”
“Vegetable Soup?”
“Thirteen cans, Mrs. Blue.”
“Condensed Milk?”
“Six cans, Mrs. Blue.”
“Green Peas?”
“Twenty Cans, Mrs. Blue.”
“Chicken broth?”
“Three cans, Mrs. Blue.”
“Instant Soup?”
“Five chicken, three mushroom, six pea and twelve boxes of noodle flavoured, Mrs. Blue.”
“Good, it’s important to have a generous supply of food Jensen. We never know when the bomb will come and when it does we won’t be able to go to the store, because there won’t be one. Understand boy?”
“Yes, Mrs. Blue.”
You can’t have food that needs to be stored in a fridge or freezer, when the bomb comes they’ll be no electricity, you need food you can cock on a camping kitchen. Why a camping kitchen boy?”
“Because they run on gasoline and you can stock up on gasoline, and in a worst case scenario you can use it over a fire, Mrs. Blue.”
“Good Jensen, good.”
Jared thankfully keeps quiet as he alternates between feeding himself and Jensen. Once the bowl is empty he opens one of the soda bottles and feed Jensen the drink before finishing of the bottle himself. “So, do you like ever talk, at all? I mean I get that this whole situation is a little overwhelming and maybe a bit scary and all that but I’d at least expect you to try and scream or something. Is it just me?”
Jensen might not be able to talk but he can at least shake his head, so he does, it seems safer to let the giant beside him know that talking just isn’t his thing. “So what, you don’t talk to anyone, ever?”
Jensen gives a small nod. “Oh, well ok then. I mean it’s a little weird but hey, too each his own, right. Also the whole nodding and shaking is good, oral communication is seriously over rated sometimes anyway. Unless of course its oral communication not involving words, that can be really good. So hey, I think you realise that you’re pretty screwed and the chance of escape is non existence so how about we make a deal. If you promise to behave and stay in this room, I’ll take off the handcuffs, how about that?”
Jensen does realise that he’s screwed, also even if there was a chance of escaping the bus what would he do, he’s got no idea where he is, no way of communicating his situation to other people, no money, no clothes except the ugly blue work overall he’s wearing. So he nods his head again, wordlessly trying to communicate that he promises to behave.
“Ok, great just so you know, I don’t like it when people don’t do as I say.” Jared’s eyes suddenly grow a shade darker as he turns to Jensen cupping his chin forcing him to meet his eyes. “Seriously though, I meant what I said before. No one here is going to hurt you but you’ve got to do as I say. You really don’t want to piss me off. Ok?”
Jensen’s mouth suddenly feels dry as he realises the verbal diarrhoea and goofy charms aside Jared is far from the boy next door. Not that the whole robbing a museum and kidnapping him thing hadn’t already tipped him off but, it’s suddenly painstakingly clear that Jared isn’t someone you mess with.
Jensen looks at Jared with wide eyes his tongue moistening suddenly dry lips while giving a shaky nod. And then just like that Jared is all smiles and mischief again. “Good, I knew you’d see it my way.” Jared takes out a small key form a pocket in his sweats and unlocks the cuffs. “Look, I’m gonna have to take over the driving in a few hours so I’m gonna need to get some shut eye but I thought you’d like a trip to the bathroom first, maybe take a shower and then we’ll try and find you some other, more comfortable clothes.”
This time Jared doesn’t wait for Jensen to nod before he pulls him up from the bed and ushers him out of the room through the hallway with the bunks, where he can see two bodies occupying to two bottom ones and into the main area where Jared opens a small door leading into a tiny bathroom. In the front Jensen can see the back of a head filled with long blond hair sitting in the driver seat. Through the large windshield he can see them speeding down a big freeway, but there are no signs in sight so the road could be leading anywhere.
“Jensen…” His eyes snap away from the road and up to meet Jared’s warning gaze. “…bathroom, now.” Jensen walks into the tiny space and does his business before a bit hesitantly stripping out of his blue over-all and boxers and stepping into the miniature shower. He showers quickly, giving himself just enough time to wash his hair. He freezes as he hears the door opening but when it quickly closes again he relaxes a bit again and turns off the shower. When he steps out he can see that his old clothes are gone and a towel lying on the floor by the door and once he’s picked it up and wrapped it around him, he can see some new clothes and a toothbrush as well. He dry’s off as fast as he can, brushes his teeth and puts on the clothes provided for him, the boxers fit but he has to pull the string as tightly as possible on the black sweats, the long legs pooling around his feet. The sleeves on the green, lose fitting t-shirt comes down far below his hands and he has to fold them up.
He dry’s off his hair, hangs up the towel and opens the door revealing Jared standing right outside. “That was fast. Come on let’s get some sleep.” Jared leads him back to the small back room and fold down the covers motioning to him to get in. As Jensen lies down he quickly closes his eyes waiting to hear the door closing as Jared walks out to one of the bunks. It never comes; instead he hears the bed groan in protest as Jared climes in after him and lies down beside him.
Jensen tries to sit up but a heavy arm settles around his waist pulling him in flush against Jared’s body. “Jeez Jensen, relax. I’m not gonna molest you while you sleep, but you didn’t honestly expect me to sleep in one of those bunks did you? I’m 6′ 4″; I can barely fit in this bed much less one of those. Now just settle down and stop wiggling round so we can get some sleep.”
Jensen does stop wiggling around but he knows there’s no way in hell, he’ll be able to relax and get some sleep while sharing a bed with his oversized keeper. What Jensen fails to consider is that Jared is really warm and snugly and that his even breathing together with the rhythmic hum of the motor and the wavy feeling of constant movement is as sedating as any prescription drug available and wither he likes it or not, he soon feels himself drifting off to sleep.
When Jensen slowly starts drifting back into consciousness, he knows he’s not alone in the small room, it isn’t a surprise. What is a surprise is that instead of Jared, Jensen sees a smaller, man with piercing blue eyes and long brown hair sitting beside him on the bed. The man is looking straight forward and when Jensen looks in that direction he notices a flat screen attached to the wall. The TV is on but the sound has been muted for which Jensen is very grateful considering that the program showing appears to be some kind of wrestling. He knows it all fake but Jensen’s never been able to watch people getting beaten up, false or not. It’s not that he’s overly empathetic or squeamish; it’s just that, well, he’s been beaten up enough not to find any kind of amusement in it.
“Not your kind of thing?” The softly spoken words startle him. As he looks back over to the screen he sees one of the beefy guys getting pretend punched in the gut, reflexively he leans back from the screen. “Right…” the man beside him spends just a little too long watching him and Jensen knows he just saw a lot more than most people would. “Don’t worry we’ll watch something else, any requests? No? Yeah, Jared said you weren’t big on the whole talking thing, which is just fine with me. Of course Jared is fine with it because he just never shuts up and you talking would interfere with that, I’m fine with it because I’m not a big talker myself. I’m Chris by the way.”
Chris gets off the bed and walks over to the door opening it a bit before he shouts; “Hey, sleeping beauty in here’s awake, how it is looking out there? I was gonna take him to the bathroom.”
Jared’s loud voice comes back to them; “It’s looking very recognizable right now, but bring him out, just hold your hand in front of his eyes or something.”
And that’s exactly what happens, Chris moves behind him and brings his hands up in front of his eyes as he ushers him out to the bathroom again. Luckily the bathroom itself doesn’t have any windows so at least he can go inside by himself. While he’s inside he can hear Chris hollering again, hey bitch, fix us some breakfast won’t you. Boy might be kidnapped but that’s no reason not to keep him well feed.”
From the front of the bus Jared’s voice picks up where Chris left off; “Yeah and try and find him something fresh, maybe some of that fruit we stocked up on at the gas station, I don’t think he likes the whole fast, pre-made food thing.”
A third voice joins the conversation; “Just shut up the both of you I know how to fix breakfast and since when does your average kidnapping victim get to be fussy with their food, he should be glad he’s getting any at all.”
“Since we’re not your average kidnappers, that’s when.” The sharp tone of Chris voice leaves no room for disagreement and when they make it back to the room and Jensen sees the bowl of cut-up fruit and a few sandwiches on the small table he guess the message got through loud and clear.
Once again Chris settles in beside him on the bed and hands him the bowl of fruit and one of the sandwiches before tossing the remote his way.
“Pick something.” Jensen looks at Chris just to confirm what he said and he nods his head. So Jensen picks up the remote and starts flipping though the limited amount of channels the bus offers. He finds a nature program he likes and looks over at Chris to see if it’s ok.
“Cat’s, really?” Jensen moves to grab the remote again thinking he needs to change the channel again but Chris stops him. “No, its fine, it’s just, cat’s, really?”
Jensen’s always liked cats, ever since that Sunday when he was seven years old and saw a real one for the first time. Sunday’s were always good days, first they took him to church and they couldn’t beat him there, and then, since apparently not even the communist where brave enough to defy god’s and start the apocalypse on his day of rest he got to spend the day outside. Granted “out-side” was a junk filled back-yard but it was still fresh air and a chance to get to see something of the world outside. He remember sitting on the steps to the backdoor, a scrawny, bruised kid, to small and thin for his age hearing the other kids on the street playing on the other side of the high wood fence surrounding his house. A rustling nice made him turn his head and look towards the large tree on the next lot, some of its high, long branches hanging over the wooden fence.
And that’s when he saw it, it wasn’t anything special about that particular cat, it’s was gray, average size but it climbed so gracefully dodging the pebbles thrown at him by the kids on the street without any difficulty. Once it reached high enough to be out of throwing range it simply settled down on one of the branches, and fell asleep completely unfazed by the commotion the snott-nosed kids where creating far down beneath it.
He sat there on those steps for hours just watching and silently wondering how on earth it was ever going to be able to get down form that tree. When evening came and the car finally woke up it simply looked around, climbed down a few branches and then leap right into the air. Jensen can still remember the feeling of terror gripping him as he saw the cat spinning in the air as it fell with a freighting speed towards the ground. He wanted to close his eye’s but he couldn’t and because of that he get to see that cat land on its feet and strut away completely unharmed and unfazed by what had just happened.
From that day on Jensen wished he’d been borne a cat, because if he’d been a cat he’d bee able to climb high enough not to be caught and no matter what happened he’d always land on his feet. Jensen thinks he probably did land on his feet, just not quite as gracefully as that gray cat did. And when he left it wasn’t with a strut but with a limp, but at least he did leave.
So Jensen really likes cat’s and watches the show he picked with rapt attention while slowly working his way through his sandwich and fruit.
Xenodike 