Why Should I Be a Magical Girl? I'm Overworked As It Is! — Chapter 5: An Unwelcome Visitor

Carmen held the container in both hands, hoping she was hallucinating again. She set it on the counter, picked it back up, and checked it—in case she’d gotten reality wrong.

The green beans, zucchini, and tomatoes were all gone, along with the chicken. Her rice had a dent in it. A single paw print in the center mocked her.

“I tested the rice. It was gooey. I think they overcooked it.”

Carmen ignored the cat. She was too busy having an internal monologue.

She’d splurged on this restaurant meal. It cost more than she’d normally allow herself, but it was healthier, and the portions were big enough to split over two days. She’d eaten half of it last night. Tonight was supposed to be the second half.

This is fine, Carmen thought. This is a completely normal thing that is happening to me right now, in my kitchen, at midnight, after a double shift.

She was dreaming, that had to be it. She’d come home, been so tired she’d passed out in bed without remembering, and this was her brain being unhinged with the last of its battery life. Maybe it was reminding her to eat her food before it went bad. She’d had worse dreams.

Her stomach growled.

Hunger moving into her dream world was normal. Her imagination was creative, so imagining the feel of the container… Yeah, she could do that.

Carmen’s hand moved. She just needed to get rid of the cat. Banish her from her dreams. But the moment she touched Shuli, she felt soft, warm fur.

“Gah! I just cleaned myself. Wash your hands first!” Shuli exclaimed, aghast. She swatted at Carmen’s hand with a furious paw.

“Oh my GOD! You’re real!”

Shuli primly licked where Carmen touched, eyeing her with dissatisfaction.

“I assure you, Carmen. I’m very much real.”

“You’re a cat,” Carmen said slowly, like she was working through a complex mathematical equation. “That talks… and knows my name.”

Shuli pointed at the plastic name tag clipped to Carmen’s uniform. “Of course I know your name. I can read, you know.”

“What even are you!?” Carmen backpedaled away from Shuli, clutching her hand to her chest.

Shuli sat up a little straighter and said, “I am a girl.”

Carmen sputtered, “That’s not—THAT WASN’T THE QUESTION!”

“You asked what I am. I am a girl cat. I answered your question?”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The neighbor banged on the wall again, yelling, “STOP YELLING!”

Carmen froze. She gritted her teeth and dropped her voice closer to a hiss. “What possible reason could there be for a talking cat to invade my space?”

“A good cause, I assure you,” Shuli said. Her face turned serious. “I’ll hop to it. Ahem. You see, there’s an entire world beyond what you know. A world where animals like the lovely me are guardians of the Earth.”

“Are you for real right now?”

Shuli continued, undeterred by the skepticism. “Throughout history, our council of evolved animals has been working behind the scenes.”

“Your what?”

“The council.”

“There’s a cat government?”

“I said animals. As in, several species. Pay attention. Where was I? Oh, yes. We guard magical artifacts and distribute them. They are mostly designed for humans. Humans are chosen because they’re everywhere, and with their opposable thumbs and unique abilities, they can make a big impact.”

“Opposable thumbs?” Carmen repeated. “That’s the qualification?”

“These artifacts don’t choose just anyone,” Shuli pressed further. “They choose those with certain qualities. Qualities that you, Carmen, inherently possess.”

“Special qualities,” Carmen said flatly. “Like what. Surviving a double shift on three hours of sleep?”

“More like resilience,” Shuli said. “There are others like you, each with a guardian and an artifact, playing their part in maintaining harmony and fighting evil in the world.”

Carmen stared at her for a long moment.

“So let me get this straight.” Carmen angrily stepped forward, her eyebrow twitching. “You break into my apartment. You eat my food. And now you’re telling me I’ve been chosen by some secret society to do more work.”

“Well…yes?” Shuli shrank under Carmen’s gaze.

“Hell to the no. Go recruit one of those happy-go-lucky people who have time to volunteer at charities. They’d eat your story up and would be happy to do it. Or someone, I don’t know, who works out?”

“What? No—I don’t think you understand. You’ve been chosen.”

“Yeah. Chosen to be your free meal ticket.” Carmen’s eyes narrowed. “How did you even get in here?”

Shuli lifted her chin and said, “Magic.”

A breeze came in through the window, ruffling the curtains. It was the only window in her studio apartment and Carmen frequently forgot to latch it all the way because she lived on the fourth floor.

There was, however, a fire escape attached to the exterior.

For a second, neither of them said anything. They just looked at each other. Carmen didn’t even care about how the cat found her apartment. She marched across the kitchen, scooped Shuli up under her arm, and started walking to the window.

“Wait—wait!” Shuli’s paws unsuccessfully scrabbled against Carmen’s forearm. “Maybe you misunderstood! This isn’t optional. I promise it comes with excellent conditions!”

Carmen didn’t slow down.

“I already have two jobs.”

“This is a better job! One with purpose! Fulfillment! A wardrobe upgrade, even—”

“Does it come with dental?”

There was a pause. “…Dental?”

“Teeth care. What if I get hit in the face?”

“I—that’s not typically how the arrangement—”

“Then no.”

“There is a pension!” Shuli’s voice climbed half an octave, growing more frantic. “Eventually! After you save the world enough times, there’s a pension, of sorts—spiritually speaking—you’ll feel good about yourself!”

“Spiritual enlightenment isn’t a 401k.”

“Also,” Carmen added, sliding the window up the rest of the way, “Fighting the forces of evil usually entails injuries and the possibility of death. Does your secret society have a magical hospital where I don’t pay for anything?”

Shuli shut her mouth.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Carmen set Shuli outside on the fire escape.

“But it chose you!” Shuli’s voice rose, indignant, as the window slammed down between them.

Carmen locked it and pulled the curtains closed before letting out a long, tired breath.

“Magic. Chosen ones.” She rubbed a hand over her face.

She looked around her apartment—really looked. It was a mess. Her bed was unmade, there were piles of laundry, and the three-seater couch had a dip in it from years of being the only place she ever sat down to eat.

Her furniture was limited to: a full bed, one nightstand with a lamp, a dresser, a cheap mirror that was unflattering to Carmen, a desk with a chair, a sofa, coffee table, and TV stand with a cracked TV.

She knew that under the stack of junk mail was another stack of unpaid credit card bills. She’d buried them under the junk mail on purpose, so she wouldn’t have to look at them and get depressed.

This was her life.

“What good is magic if it can’t make my student loans disappear? Make rent more affordable?” she muttered, “At least offer some type of incentive that makes living easier, sheesh.”

She opened her freezer and pulled out an emergency frozen pasta meal. This brand tasted like cardboard, but it had been on sale. She popped it into her microwave and waited for it to finish. She wanted to eat, go back to bed, and pretend like her grasp on reality didn’t get questioned.