Breakfast for One


Mr. Tinkles was not a morning person.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn't much of a late-morning, early-afternoon, mid-afternoon, or evening person either. He liked the nights. The day was far too bright for his tastes. Plus, being a creature of the night, getting up in the morning took an extraordinary push of will. It had been at least three months since he started this new day job and he still hadn't figured out how to make the waking up process any less excruciating.

Mr. Tinkles sat back in his usual comfy chair at the little cafe below his uptown apartment. At least he had a nice big mug of his favorite tea, slightly sweetened with honey. And, he had to admit, getting up this early meant that the donuts were nice and fresh.

He did miss the night job, though, he thought as he licked the frosting off the donut with his rough tongue. He wondered if there would be any night shift openings at his current employer.

As he was finishing off the last bit of tea, a rush of tuna and bitterness from the sediment at the bottom of the cup temporarily filling his senses, Mr. Tinkles felt the fur on the back of his neck tingle and his whiskers twitch involuntarily. A low growl, just on the edge of his hearing, rumbled from somewhere behind him.


Yeah, I don't know either.

This is just a random sketch. I wasn't sure where I was going with this. I have a honey bear sitting on my desk at work, and that got me thinking about different honey container shapes. What if honey didn't just come from bees, or from bees at all. Then that got me thinking about what you would use the honey for.