Effing Feline likes punny gators #wewriwa
I, Effing Feline, am as grouchy as a tarantula. Why? Because these days Ed is as grouchy as an alligator. Why? Because his writing is stuck.
Thing is, I don’t like gators. Not even gators wearing clothes . . .
. . . or glasses . . .
. . . or even, as it today’s snippet from Pandora Uncaged, a WIP by my pet human, a gator in pink.
Pandora filled a syringe with antibiotic liniment and pressed her palm to the panel that opened Harry’s cage. Then she went to hands and knees and crept into the cage. Harrison’s gators were rare here on Passion Island — this was the only one in captivity — so she’d had to learn by painful trial and error that Harry lashed his powerful tail at anything that loomed over him. If she kept her face at his level, though, he was a pussycat, and one of her favorite animals here at Quak.
As she treated the gator’s infections with the liniment, she chided him in a soothing voice. “Harry, Harry, I’m sorry to tell you the beauty sleep didn’t take. With a face like yours, how do you expect to find a nice lady gator once you’re well?”
She bent her ear close to his head. “What’s that you say? How do I know you aren’t a lady gator looking for a handsome guy?”
And a few more to finish the scene:
“Excellent question, Harry. I have no idea.”
Lying on her side and supporting her chin on a hand, she reached her other hand up to pet his/her head. The skin felt warm and loose, as though his hide were a size too big. She couldn’t tell if the gator liked the strokes, but she did.
“Tell you what. Tomorrow I’ll bring you a pretty pink ribbon, and if you’re female, I’ll tie it around your neck. Is that a deal?”
Effing Feline here again. You know that cats like puns, right? What’s that? You didn’t know? Well, we do, very much — especially with tartar sauce and lots of minced salmon. Thus, here’s one gator I do approve of:
Do you think if Ed threw an in-vest-igator into his story he might get unstuck?
Be sure to visit the other great writers in Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday.
Pandora Dayle is her family’s black sheep. Ten years after running away from home, she’s rebuilt her self-respect at an isolated facility for saving animals native to her colony’s planet. Her redemption feels as fragile as a dream, but she’ll be okay if nothing traumatic happens.
But when the best friend from her innocent childhood arrives, her insecurities mushroom.
Aidan used to be Pandora’s best friend. Since his teen years, he’s held heroic jobs—police officer and now Search and Rescue leader. He adored innocent young Pandora so much he compares every woman to her idealized memory, and finds them wanting.
But when he rediscovers the real thing, she’s not at all what he expected.
Booker, a naïve Apprentice Cupid for a secret organization, receives his second assignment: get Pandora and Aidan to mate. They’d been close friends, so his strategy is simple: He flies Aidan to her island and orders him to impregnate Pandora.
What could possibly go wrong?
