The Boy Next Door - Weebly

whole thing with John has sent you into some kind of mental tailspin, or if you have just
been spending way too much time cooped up in that apartment of yours, but you are clearly
in desperate need of counseling. Or a trip to Saks. I'm not sure which. TWO HUNDRED
DOLLARS?
You spent TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS of your own money on a cat that isn't even yours? Are you
mental????
And now you are going to keep it in your apartment and give it two insulin shots a day?
Mel, GROW UP. This isn't some little orphan you've adopted. It's a CAT. It's your neighbor's
cat. Give it back to Max and stop obsessing. My God, what happened to you? You used to be
normal.
I mean, aside from your fixation on the love lives of celebrities and your constant shoe shopping.
Nadine
To: Nadine Wilcock
From: Mel Fuller
Subject: You're right
You're right. You're right. I don't know what's wrong with me. Ever since that whole thing
with John, I've just been out of sorts. I wish I were one of those women who are made stronger
by things like their boyfriends turning out to be total jerk losers, but I guess I'm one of those
other kind of women, the kind that gain ten pounds after a breakup from eating too much Cherry
Garcia, which I don't even like that much, but that's the only flavor at my corner
deli that isn't frozen to the wall of the ice cream cooler.
As soon as I got your empowering email, I went over to Max's and I pounded on the door
and I told him about Tweedle Dum. I brought the cat with me, along with all of his
medical supplies, and I showed Max what he has to do...you know, how to fill the syringe
and how to give the cat his shots. Max looked pretty dumbfounded. He was all, "You mean
cats can get diabetes, too, just like people?" I don't think he really understood a word I
said. In fact, I *know* he didn't, because when I told him to fill the syringe himself, he
filled it all the way up to the number 5, instead of 5 units, which is the correct dosage.
I started to explain to him why this was so dangerous, and how Sunny von Bulow has
been in a coma ever since Klaus slipped her a needle filled with too much insulin, but I
don't think he heard anything but that last part, since he became very interested in that,
and wanted to know how much insulin would send someone into a coma, or even kill them. As if I
would know that. I told him to watch ER like a normal person and he'd probably find out
eventually. He's going to kill that cat. I'm telling you right now, he's going to kill him.
God I wish Mrs. Friedlander would wake up, kick Max out, and go back to planning trips
to Nepal and her aquasize class. Wouldn't it be great if all of this turned out to be some
weird dream she was having while she was asleep? Like if it turned out everything that
has happened in the past few months since I found her unconscious never happened, and
everything could just go back to normal? That would be so great. Then I wouldn't have to feel
this way anymore. You know. Like there's a great big spiky satellite dish piercing my heart.