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Yomiel hums along with the chorus playing over the radio– some energetic ear worm of a song the radio plays far too often– while he hangs up a couple more streamers off the ceiling fan. Sissel makes another leaping jump from the couch and attacks the end of the streamer, successfully tearing another one down.
Yomiel chuckles, reaching down to snatch the colorful paper from the cat’s grasping paws.
“C’mon, Sissel. At least let me get them all up first.”
Sissel runs off to pounce on the dangling string of a balloon, grabbing it in his mouth and twisting around until he’s tangled in it. He wrestles around until a claw inevitably finds its way into the balloon, the loud POP startling the cat into a frantic dash across the room.
With another chuckle Yomiel shakes his head and goes back to finishing off pinning up the last of the streamers. He wonders briefly if he isn’t going overboard with all the decorations; after all, the little “party” he’s throwing is for no one but Sissel and himself. But it’s a special celebration, an accomplishment of Yomiel’s that was a long time coming, so why not go all out with it?
Plus, it can’t be denied that the colorful streamers, balloons, and confetti adds a sorely needed bit of liveliness to Yomiel and Sissel’s tiny, ratty apartment.
With the decorations complete, Yomiel moves into the kitchen. A party didn’t really feel like much without good food, and since Sissel is the only one out of the two of them that had a working stomach, that meant normal party foods like pizza and cake were out of the question. Still, Yomiel wanted the night to feel special, so he had splurged what little money he had managed to scrounge up on their party– the colorful decor, a new TV and radio, some cookware, and a nice, fresh cut of salmon.
Yomiel pulls the fish out of the fridge and begins preparing it on the stovetop. It’s been a long while since he’s last used a kitchen to actually cook something, but since he’s just cooking for Sissel, it should be easy enough. He doesn't have to worry about seasoning it, just tossing it in the pan and frying it up. Sissel, thankfully, is not a picky cat, and he goes crazy for just about any kind of fish, so Yomiel knows no matter how rusty his skill, Sissel will appreciate the effort.
Sure enough, once the salmon really begins sizzling in the pan, Sissel comes running over, hopping onto the counter with loud meows to punctuate his excitement. More than once Yomiel has to swat at eager paws trying to make their way into the pan, until he eventually just picks Sissel up and places him outside the kitchen.
“Ya have to wait,” he says in an admonishing tone.
Sissel shows his displeasure at that fact by skittering off across the apartment and pouncing on the streamers Yomiel just finished putting up.
Yomiel only rolls his eyes and huffs another laugh, turning up the radio to drown out the sound of tearing paper, before going back to the pan and flipping the filet over. Normally Yomiel might get annoyed at the cat’s persistence, but today is such a special day, and there isn’t a thing in the world that could ruin his good mood right now.
Three songs and a little dance with Sissel (which was more the cat weaving his way around Yomiel’s legs while he danced) later, finds Yomiel finishing off wiping down the stove, the salmon cooling on a plate on the counter, and Sissel trying (and failing) to sneakily make his way onto the counter without being seen.
Yomiel goes to chastise the cat again when he catches sight of the TV, the screen on (but muted) tuned into a local news station.
“Oh, Sissel! It’s on!” Yomiel grabs the plate, placing the now cooled fish on the stained coffee table while he takes a seat on the sofa. He flips into the ghost world for a moment to trick the radio off and turns up the volume on the TV, giving Sissel a few pets as he hops up on the table, chowing down on his treat.
The TV screen shows a large man in handcuffs being escorted by police from a red bricked building, stony expression affixed on his face. He’s flanked on all sides by an angry crowd of people; some are average citizens, jeering and berating the man, throwing out all manner of obscenity and insults, some people having to be held back by the police escort. Then there’s a gaggle of journalists, shoving microphones and cameras into the man’s space, shooting off rapid fire questions. Text is highlighted over the chaotic scene and reads out in all caps: FORMER DETECTIVE PLEADS GUILTY TO MURDER.
Yomiel cackles in delight at the sight of it.
Jowd– now stripped of the title of Detective– ignores the presence of the crowd and continues his way out from the courthouse. He doesn’t answer any of the reporter’s questions or even look at the horde of spectators and hecklers that had accumulated; he merely ducks his head and climbs into the prison transport vehicle.
The news feed cuts back to a dark haired reporter speaking to the camera, the video replaced by a static image of Jowd’s mugshot.
“The former detective pleaded guilty to the charge of First Degree Murder. Jowd offered no explanation or rationale for the senseless murder of his own wife, choosing to remain silent throughout the entirety of his trial. The only time the former detective spoke was to request the death penalty during his sentencing– a request that was denied. Instead, former Detective Jowd received a life sentence.”
Yomiel twists the end of a confetti popper, colored plastic showering down on top of Sissel who hisses at the sudden noise.
“Sorry bud,” Yomiel says with another giddy laugh, stroking along the cat’s back until he relaxes again. “But it’s real exciting news, ain’t it?”
It wasn’t the outcome he had expected when he killed the detective’s wife, but it’s just as gratifying, nonetheless. Now the bastard would be left to rot in jail for the rest of his life– feeling only a fraction of the misery he’s put Yomiel through these last few years.
And that was reason enough to celebrate. It’s been a long time since Yomiel’s felt this alive, after all.