Midnight Foxtrot

Part I: Jell-O? Coffee Cake?

I walked down the dimly-lit sidewalk, pulling the hood of my navy blue jacket down so that it covered my forehead. My eyes flitted back and forth, searching for the tiny shop. She'd told me that it would be the fourth building to the right on Maple Street, and that it was open until 4:00 in the morning; yet, here I was, gazing at a miniscule brick building with shiny new windows and a gold-leaf sign that read: "Closed." All I could see were displays of coffee cakes and muffins, and a few small creatures that appeared to be made out of Jell-O.

I was supposed to be adopting a fox -- not a wad of Jell-O -- and though I wished that I wouldn't have to trudge around the entire city again, a pet made of colored gelatin just wouldn't do.

I sighed and pulled out my phone, hoping desperately that the pouring rain wouldn't damage it. I slid out the keyboard and typed, "I'm in front of a building with desserts displayed in its windows. Is this really the place?" My foot -- unfortunately in a flip flop, as I hadn't known it was going to rain when I set out to this place -- tapped impatiently, sending strange clicking noises down the alleyway to my left.

Beep.

"You're at the right place. (:" This was her reply.
"I thought you wanted me to adopted a fox! The only animals here are made out of Jell-O."
"Just shut up and wait."
"You expect me to wait here, in the freezing rain, wearing clothes that normally come to the beach with me?"
"Pretty much."
"Fine."

I'm such a push-over. Looking back on it, I'm not sure why I waited, but I'm glad I did.

So, yeah -- I stood theere for another forty-five minutes, nearly asleep on my feet. And then, suddenly, ten unbearably  bright fluorescent lights flicked on inside the building, causing tiny black clouds to float into my vision, as though I'd been staring at the sun too long.

And then I collapsed. Was it shock? Probably.

Part II: Squish?

Unconscious? Seriously? I tried to sit up.

Ow.

Once again, my eyes filled with those tiny black clouds. Only, this time, I was pretty sure it was because of the head trauma, and not because of the lights. Goosebumps rose on my arms and legs as something cold and wet nuzzled my foot.

I sat bolt upright, expecting to smell the stench of a sewer and to see a rat nibbling at my toes.
...Irrational fears. Don't ask.

Anyway, it wasn't a sewer, and there was no rat.

One of the creatures -- the ones made of Jell-O; the ones I'd seen in the shop's display windows -- was staring up at me with angelic black eyes.

Hallucinations. Yeah, that might not be so good, I thought. But the creature leapt agilely onto my lap -- making a strange squishing noise as it did so -- and I knew that this was no hallucination.

At a closer examination, I noticed that the little guy donned a mask, reminding me, for some strange reason, of Spain and the Tango. He was a strange color for being made out of Jell-O; burgundy-maroon with ancient-looking gold markings.

"Fuego!" A high, shrill voice called from the direction of what I assumed must be the kitchen, for at that same time, a door clicked open and the delicious scents of pie and cake wafted into the room where the tiny creature and I sat.

Fuego leapt from my lap, leaving small red stains where his paws had been, and trotted through the open door. Just a few seconds later, he returned, balancing an enormous cherry pie on his head. He slid the dish onto the sofa, heaved himself up to sit beside it, and... regurgitated a pie cutter.

Cool trick. I guess if you're made of Jell-O, you can barf up just about anything without hurting yourself.

I wasn't so sure about how sanitary the pie would be if he cut it with that, but hey, the little guy probably feasted on coffee cakes and marshmallows all day. How bad could it be?

After a rather unhealthy breakfast of cherry pie with whipped cream, a muffled beep came from my back pocket. I pulled out my phone and looked at the newest message.

"Where are you?"

I slid out the keyboard once more and replied, "At the weird place with the coffee cake and the Jell-O. I'll be back as soon as I can," then shoved the phone underneath one of the couch cushions.

A tall, tan woman with long, dark hair strode into the room, a business-like, yet kind expression painted on her face. She grabbed Fuego around his middle and held him up to her face, staring into his eyes. "You," she said, "need a bath."

I snorted. How was she going to bathe him if he was made out of waterproof material? The woman turned to face me. She qinked and said, as though she had read my thoughts, "Come with me."

Part III: Sodabath and an Unexpected Event

Though I'd had my doubts, I wasn't extremely surprised to see her dunk the strange fox into a claw-foot tub filled to the brim with Coca-Cola.

As Fuego flipped and splashed like a dolphin, sending enormous droplets of water flying everywhere, the woman handed me a packet of papers. "Sign these, and he's all yours," she chirped cheerfully in her strange, high voice. She soaked a mop in soapy water and guided it across the kitchen's blue-and-white tiled floor. Sensing my confusion, she added, "I assume that's why you're here."

I stumbled over to a nearby table and hunched over the papers, signing them sloppily with a red ballpoint pen I'd found in my pocket. In the black titled, "Subject's New Name," I scribbled, "House."

Obviously, my brain wasn't functioning properly at that particular moment, so yeah -- I did name the little guy after a character in a TV show.

I handed the packet back to the woman. She instructed me to watch Fuego -- House, I guess -- then whisked away. A few minutes later, she returned with a black plastic pet carrier and a brown paper bag stuffed with months' worth of sweets for House.

The woman snapped her fingers, and House leapt gracefully from the tub. He shook the soda from his slimy maroon body, and strode into the pet carrier obligingly as I held its silver-wire door open for him. When I closed it once more, he didn't even blink, for he was fast asleep on the wine-colored cushion I hadn't even known was in there.