The Person I'm Next To Is Actually A Cat Lady

I'm next to this woman. She has that yellow white hair that some old people have, and it is done up in swirls and loops. It is like highly styled cotton candy on a wrinkly head. She has pink rectangle frames glasses, a t-shirt, jeans, and pink flip flops on. She also has cats. Seven of them.
These cat's aren't with her, well physically, they are always with her in spirit, I think. She has left their side to buy them food at the pet store, I'm behind her in line, forever. This forever has been created by a kind, if unthoughtful cashier. The cashier asked the woman the following question, "Wow seven cats, whats that like?"
This began an unstoppable torrent of stories about the only things that matter in this womans life, seven furry demons of sloth and gluttony. Every story starts and ends with these cats laying around cutely. In between dscriptions about their idle lounging, we learn how many birds they murder a year (five), or how many of them were cat hobos before coming under her roof (seven) or any number of other worthless things (infinity). It just goes on and on and on.
If these cats were human this woman would undoubtedly call them a drain on tax payer dollars, and vote against funding for programs to get them off the streets and off the nip. But they are cute, unlike their human counterparts, and so she loves them. She loves them so goddamn much, that I have to wait in line untill the mountains crumble and the sun explodes to buy a filter for my turtle. This goddamn pet store.
My turtle is way cuter.

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