33 Apocalypse Ave, Tuesday Afternoon

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It was October, even if the weather didn't match Tumblr's expectations of the month, and Kathy was getting into the spooky spirit. She'd decorated the living room with some window decals and a small stuffed bat for the cats to play with, there were a chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven and a bowl of ganache cooling on the counter for chocolate monster cookies, and two gallons of apple cider sat in the fridge, waiting to be mulled or spiked with cinnamon-flavored booze.

Now she was sprawled on the couch, playing through her repertoire of songs she'd learned on the guitar, and trying to figure out if she could learn to play Bad Moon Rising before it ceased being relevant. Hmm, maybe she should try to play something off of the Bad Seeds' Murder Ballads instead.

Comments

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"Hey, if it's between just those two, I'll drink the schnapps, you can have the antifreeze," Kathy decided. "I'll even take the really weird flavors, like pineapple and juniper berry."

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"You gotta have some standards, Kat," Dante said, shaking his head. "Otherwise it's just sad."

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"And my standards start right after 'drinking antifreeze,'" Kathy decided. "That, and wood alcohol. I'm pleased with my choices."

Beat.

"And major American beers."

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"American beer is fine," Dante said.

If you drank copious quantities of it in rapid succession, sure.

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"I'll let you drink that after your antifreeze sliders," Kathy decided. "And keep with the fruit punch schnapps or some shit."

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"Whatever, get back to me when you have to drink that shit," Dante said.

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"And interrupt you getting slightly buzzed after your first gallon and a half of PBR hipster brew?"

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"You gotta wash it down with whiskey, obviously."

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"...If there's still whiskey, there's no way we'll be wasting time or stomach space on schnapps and beer."

That was just, like, common sense.

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"So basically we'd have to go shopping for more booze," Dante mused. "'s cool."

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"I mean, that's just a facet of vacation," Kathy said. "How about we send you and keep the bed warm for when you get back."

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Dante rolled his eyes. "How about no?" he said. "I like warm beds too. Especially not leaving them."

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"But if we're out of booze!" Kathy protested, giggling. "You're the strongest and most durable of us! I'm a thin-blooded California girl and we can't send Anders."

Even if Ferelden did seem to be made of cold and ice.

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"Why not?" Dante posited. "He's used to mud."

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"Because he has eyes and they are unfair," Kathy said, sounding resigned.

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"So you look at me while you ask him," Dante said practically. "That might work."

Anders did have heavily unfair puppy eyes.

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"Why don't you ask him then?" Kathy replied, giving Dante a look.

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"Fine, I'll kick Anders out of bed, since you're a fuckin' wimp," Dante declared.

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Kathy did not actually believe Dante would do it. Kathy had seen Anders use the sad eyes and doubted Dante's commitment to staying warm in the face of them.

But this resulted in her staying under warm blankets with a booze delivery coming to her, so she was wisely staying quiet.

"The wimpiest of wimps," she agreed instead. "Tiny, wimpy Kathy, that's me."

Also warm and booze-delivered. It was good to be a wimp sometimes.

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"I don't know what you're smartassing about," Dante said, after a pause, "But I don't like it."

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"I'm not smartassing!" Kathy said, giving him big eyes and nodding. "I'm agreeing with you!"

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"I don't believe it," Dante accused.

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"What else could I have meant?" she said, trying the big eyes of her own.

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"I don't know," Dante said, squinting at her. "But you meant something."

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"Throwing around baseless accusations is just rude," Kathy declared with a solemn nod. "Especially when I was agreeing with you." She strummed a minor chord to highlight how truly saddened she was by all of this.