Catnip

04 | In Which Caleb Christens a Princess

"Cinders is kinda cute, though. Princess Cinders, heir to the Diaz throne."

"She's not named after a Disney princess."

"Sure."

"No, really. If she's named after anyone, it's the Brothers Grimm's Cinderella. Aschenputtel. You know, the one where her stepsister hacks off her toe to fit into the glass slipper, and –"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. And their eyes are poked out by pigeons. Trust me, I remember. You've only told me the story, like, forty different times."

"It's heart-warming," he deadpans. "Makes me all fuzzy inside."

"Typical." Under her breath she mutters, "Disney princess."

"For the last time: Cinder isn't named after –"

"Denial," Marnie sings, spoon-wielding hand raised as she mimics the movements of an opera singer. He considers snatching the tub of Ben and Jerry's while she's distracted but decides against it. She's always been quicker than him, sharper, packed with rapid-fire reflexes that aid her on the soccer field. No hope in hell will any attempts to kidnap the coveted ice-cream work out in his favour.

"You're ridiculous." He slouches down on the couch and grabs the remote from its perch between the cushions, because if he can't have the goodies he can at least control the volume on the TV. He turns it up in time to hear Kim Walker's character, Heather C, choking on a mouthful of bleach, the first of several deaths to occur in tonight's chosen movie, Heathers. (His choice, of course, although Marnie conceded after agreeing with him that Christian Slater circa 1988 made a damn fine sociopath.)

"What a tragic waste," Marnie says as Heather's body crashes through the glass table and meets its pitiful end.

"She was an asshole."

"Yeah, but she was also the asshole responsible for the phrase fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You gotta give credit where credit's due, Diaz."

"I'm just saying. If I was Veronica, I would've gotten rid of her a long time ago." Okay, so now he sounds like the sociopath. "I mean, I wouldn't have killed her, but, you know."

"What about me?" Marnie turns around to face him, eyebrows raised. "Am I an asshole?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"I mean, with the whole cat thing: that was kind of an asshole move, wasn't it?" she says. "Even though I do think I'm doing you a favour –"

He snorts.

"No, seriously. Having another living being around might be good for you, even if she can't–"

"Can we get back to the movie? We're missing Heather's suicide note."

"–But I guess I went about it the wrong way. I, well, I probably shouldn't have forced her on you like that."

"Oh, now you realise?"

"Shut the fuck up and stop ruining the moment, Diaz!" She throws a cushion at him. He attempts to dodge it but loses his balance and slips off the couch, ass hitting the floor. Damn, that hurts. Marnie bursts out laughing but proceeds to hold her hand out, ever the kind-hearted soul. He glares and climbs to his feet without her help.

"Anyway, like I was saying," she continues, "I guess I'm, you know, sorry. For the cat. And for, you know, not listening to you."

"Christ, Royle, I think I can feel hell freezing over as we speak."

"If you're gonna be such a bitch about it, I'm taking it back."

"All right, all right! Apology acknowledged and pending. Give me a few months to decide whether or not it's been accepted."