A Simple Matter of Money

     In theory, our system works fantastically. In practice, however, it pretty much makes my life about as difficult as you could imagine. You see, Fouchier is quite possibly the most introverted, sneaky little Lupe you will ever find. He hides everything he buys from me in the innermost reaches of his room, and when I try to question him about his purchases, all I get in return is the slow, withering glare Fouchier is so fond of giving me. Though it is entirely possible that all he has hoarded away up there are piles of those little key chains with the Tombola Man on them, it is equally possible that Fouchier has somehow gotten a hold of three pirate paint brushes and is hiding them away just to spite me. As a result, my accounts are unbalanced and I have no idea if I can afford to buy my morning coffee or whether we need to be surviving on omelettes for the next three weeks.

     This system stayed in place for some time, my blood pressure rising in anger with every given day. Finally, I could take it no longer. Something needed to be done. And so, I concocted a plan, a plan to thwart Fouchier and his irritating, money grubbing ways.

     Late afternoon is my primary time for sleep. Due to my tendency to ingest caffeine-ridden drinks before sunrise, four p.m. is generally the only time that I can finally get some shut-eye. Fouchier is well aware of this, and so makes a point of only doing his shopping while I am still passed out on our couch.

     However, on that particular day I made a difficult choice. I decided to refrain from my customary pre-dawn coffee binge, and instead slept at hours normal for human beings. As a result, by the time four o’clock rolled around, I was wide awake and ready for action.

     Fouchier could not know this. If he thought that I was still conscious, he would try to make it look like he had never intended to go out in the first place, and sit around idly until I fell asleep, all the while shooting me glares for interrupting his scheduled outing.

     It was roughly 3:45. Fouchier was still holed up in his room, probably getting his things in order so that he could go out in an organized fashion. I was already in place, sitting on my couch with my book in hand. Now my only task was to organize myself in a way that Fouchier would think that I was actually asleep.

     I tried several positions before I found one that was both believable and comfortable, stretched out on my stomach. My book was in the hand hanging off of the side of the sofa and my glasses were properly askew. I glanced at the clock hanging on our side wall. Five minutes until Fouchier would come downstairs. I snuggled a little closer in to the cushions and waited for the telltale sound of his paws pounding down the steps.

     It wasn’t long before I heard Fouchier approaching. What I didn’t realize was that Fouchier had one more thing to do before he walked out that door. Suddenly, I felt him place his paw on my back. Forcibly keeping myself from jumping up in surprise, I allowed Fouchier to continue his inspection, if only to find out what he was doing. From the way he shook me slightly and called my name a few times, he seemed to be trying to determine whether or not I was actually asleep.

     This raised several questions in my mind. Did he do this every time? How could I not notice? And, was he really that paranoid that I would find out what he was purchasing?

     As the front door slammed and I could hear Fouchier stomping away, I sat up and reminded myself that all of my questions would be answered in due time. Fixing my glasses and resuming my place in my book, I peered out the window and waited for Fouchier to come back.

     The look of panic as he stepped through the door was something that I had never really thought I would see plastered upon Fouchier’s face. He knew what I was doing, and he knew that he didn’t like it. And so he ran. Not outside, which would have seemed like the most logical choice, but instead upstairs, presumably to his bedroom.

     Though Fouchier would have usually beaten me in any type of running (his body is made for speed; mine is made for lounging around and doing nothing), the large shopping bag he had clenched between his teeth hindered him enough so that I could easily overtake him. In a few short seconds, Fouchier was directly in front of me. I saw my chance and grabbing his bag, ripping it open to see what was inside.

     Usukis. At least a dozen of them, all pressed together in that bag. I recognized a few of the dolls that I saw, but others were of a model that I didn’t even know existed. I glanced up at Fouchier, somewhat incredulous at what I was seeing.

     I opened my mouth to ask him just what, exactly, was going on here, but then I caught a sight of his face. He was staring at the wall behind me intensely, his paws shaking slightly. I was positive that somewhere beneath all that red fur of his, Fouchier was blushing brightly.

     I bit back the remark that I had been planning to make. Shaking my head slightly at the situation at hand, I thrust the bag back at my pet. “Take it,” I commanded.

     Fouchier cocked his head to the side, his eyes retaining the dull and lifeless aspect of before. I repeated myself. “Take it, Fouchier,” I said again, a little more kindly this time. “Honestly, I don’t care. I was just curious.”

     It was obvious that he didn’t believe me. Though he pulled the bag closer to him with his paw, he still eyed me tentatively, as if I was going to scream at him any minute. “But... Usukis are girly dolls,” Fouchier said slowly.

     I rolled my eyes. This was starting to get somewhat ridiculous. “I don’t care,” I repeated again. “It affects me in absolutely no way what you bring home, Fouchier. All I care about is how much they cost, because then I can keep all of my accounts in balance! You can buy all of the Usukis you like, as long as we have the money for them. I actually think Usukis are kind of cute, as long as they don’t have too many freaky accessories hung all over them.”

     “...Usukis are not cute,” Fouchier said defensively. However, unless I am mistaken, I saw the faintest sliver of a smile on his face. Then, I knew that everything was all right.

     Since the fateful day that I executed my brilliant plan, Fouchier has stopped his sneaky ways. He now reports all of the items that he buys, along with their prices. Occasionally, I am even allowed to go along with him.

     Though I am definitely relieved that I now know how much money I have at any given time, there is a tiny part of me that is highly disappointed. You see, I was sort of hoping that Fouchier had been hoarding pirate paint brushes away in his closet. That way, I could finally paint him some other color than that dreary red. Beggars can’t be choosers, though, and so I keep my mouth firmly shut.

The End