Sebastion

The door slammed in my face. Had I not been fast it would have shoved my nose up into my hippocampus. I had been working the streets for a year and a half, in that time I had learned to look for and react to certain patterns other people would never come across, marking the position of people’s feet to determine if they were gathering energy for a slam, identifying the tones in people’s voices to determine level of interest, noticing if the person looked disheveled in anyway, indicating I caught them at a bad time, such as towels clutched to naked bodies, brats screaming while latched on to their leg, smeared makeup, etc. However there were always anomalies in the pattern, the fine gentleman I had just been speaking to was an excellent example, the hairy gorilla apparently had the upper-arm strength to slam the door whenever he wanted regardless of where he put his feet. It was only my reflexes that saved me when the door suddenly accelerated like a freight train towards my face, I still got a smart rap on the end of my nose as I pulled away.
Such was the life of a door-to-door salesman.
Grumbling dark curses directed at the baboon and all his seed, I walked to the next house, my salesman senses giving the house the the standard once over as I went up the brick path to the door. 
If one could describe a house as cute, than cute well described this particular one. it was small, single story. The paint was a pale blue, with white shutters and front door with a covered brick patio. To the left of the door was a small concrete statue of a cat. It didn’t look like the home of a gorilla, I noticed with relief.
An old lady opened the door, she was petite, only a head taller than the doorknob. 
“Hello,” she said in a voice used to addressing pets and children, “how can I help you?”
Older ladies typically came in two varieties, the crabby kind, and the kind that called you “dear” and fed you cookies, this one seemed to be leaning to the latter.
Encouraged by what I had seen so far, I decided to give her the peppy version of my monologue, “Hello, my name is Brad Toll, and I’d like to talk to you about a revolutionary new product,” I paused, judging her reaction, her smile hadn’t changed, and the door was still in it’s previous position, so I continued, “it is called the the WinTV, it’s a window, that, in addition to showing you what’s outside your home, it can display footage from all sorts of places around the world.”
“Sounds interesting,” she said, and she sounded like she actually meant it. “Would you like to talk about this inside?” she asked.
I could already taste the cookies. “Yes please,” I replied. She opened the door wider and gestured to the living room to the left of the door, it was charming enough, with a sofa, several overstuffed easy chairs, cherub statues holding up potted plants, nothing that would seem out of the ordinary in the home of a sweet old woman. There were more cat statues in the room, I noticed, I counted seven in all, in a variety of breeds, sizes, and poses. 
Closing the door behind me, she sat down in the sofa, I was just about to sit in the chair directly across from her, when she went through an abrupt transformation.
“Stop! That’s the cat’s chair!” said she, her face twisted into something primal, her eyes flashing behind her glasses.
So startled by the outburst I launched out of my planned posterior resting place and landed into the adjacent chair without thinking about what I was doing.
Apparently summoned by the shrieking, an enormously fat tabby walked into the room and bounded into the seat I was so rudely ejected from. It then proceeded to lick it’s paw, oblivious to what was going on around it.
“Now then,” said the woman as if nothing unusual had just happened, “Sebastion,” she said to the cat, “this is Mr. Brad Toll, and he’s going to talk to us about his amazing new product.” At that, Sebastian finally looked up from his grooming to look at me, I noticed with a start his eyes were the exact same shade of green as his owner’s. To me she said “Now Mr. Toll, would you care to explain to Sebastion what the WinTV is?” Disbelieving, I turned to her, but the same feral look was in her eyes again, snapping my jaw shut faster than a bear-trap, and stifling the half-formed protest on my tongue.
Turning back to Sebastion I repeated everything I had said about the WinTV. The cat gave no acknowledgment of understanding of what I had just said, although I wasn’t expecting any.
“Mr. Toll,” said the woman, “Sebastion would like to know how the WinTV can both show what’s really outside your home and display video from other places.” I was forced to explain, again to the cat, how the WinTV wasn’t really a window at all but a screen, and when you set it to show what was outside it actually displayed a feed from a tiny camera mounted on the wall outside opposite the WinTV. It continued like this for a while, with “Sebastion” asking questions and me answering them, all the while both the lady’s and Sebastion's eyes never left my face.
Finally, it appeared that my visit was over, Sebastion hoped of his chair and disappeared back to where ever he came from while the lady showed me to the door. “Thank you for your time Mr. Toll,” she said, “we’ll definitely consider buying one of these fascinating devices.” At this point I didn’t care if she had insulted my mother while throwing me out on my ear, I just wanted out of there. After saying my goodbyes I walked down the brick path, rubbing my temples, thankful that that was the last house for today. Climbing into my car, I decided what I really needed was a beer, so before heading home I drove to the nearest 7-Eleven. After picking up a 6 pack of Bud Light from the freezer, I noticed a display of various cat toys. Impulsively, I snatched a rubber mouse before making my way to the cashier. After handing him my ID, he seemed to stare at it a fraction of a second longer than normal.
“Wearing contacts today Mr.Toll?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“It’s just that in this picture, your eyes are brown Mr.Toll, but looking at you now, they are actually green.”