Cats and dogs (b).

It was the third Friday evening of the month, and Red Hat (with a tiny white stripe) Girl was really happy. She was tall and almost never combed her hair – which is why she would usually keep the hat on even inside. She had two parrots, named “Dog” and “Cat”, and  “Karl Marx”, the cockatoo, and that sort of humour, stuck somewhere between sarcastic and ironic, was the only one she seemed to get a hold of.

So thought most of her friends, who would only invite her to cult French, Swedish and sometimes Finnish movies, which used to play at the old willow tree cinema downtown. They had once made the mistake of bringing her to a superhero film/dance party combo and, legend says, for the next entire month she would just leave her apartment for work and to watch, repeatedly, a minimalist (and dreadfully tedious, for most human beings) post-post-modernist montage of Moses und Aaron, which was playing on a theatre two blocks away.

Every third Friday evening of the month, however, she would engage in a secret ritual unknown to everyone but her bird friends: She would set herself a mysterious mix of milk, cocoa, ice cream, tea and some alcoholics, enough to last an entire night; she would place Cat on the sofa, by her side, while Dog bounced around the floor of the living room; She would take off the hat, and Karl Marx would nest himself in it; They would then, together, proceed to watch something between ten and thirteen hours of pirate movies – with the occasional break for toilet, cookies and sunflower seed.

They loved pirate movies. Dog would always do his impression on barking whenever a ship appeared. Marx wouldn’t blink for as long as a swordfight took place. The only of the four who didn’t like it that much was Cat:

Red Hat Girl would always tell Cat she could never fall in love for another person after seeing Errol Flynn as “Captain Blood”, but Cat was never sure if she was talking sarcasm, and ended up having troubling thoughts on the human nature.