Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here delighted to bring you chapter two of my new story Catzilla. This week I have been musing about a famous saying by Dietrich Bonhoeffer which goes, “Stupidity is a more dangerous enemy of the good than malice.” This is the first sentence in a paragraph which you can read here. I am wondering how this can be applied to everyday life. Many times, my novelist and I have discussed the fraternity study which was discovered by psychologists in Nigeria. A fraternity is made up of three types of people: psychopaths, suckers, and grudgers. In the fraternity situation the psychopaths and suckers make up the majority. And the grudgers make up the minority. They are also the ones who see the flaws in the system. Within one year of pledging, grudgers often either quit or are cast out of the fraternity. Psychopaths live in the moment and care nothing about consequences. Suckers are eager to be part of the group and will blindly follow psychopaths carrying out their demands. Grudgers will question or disagree and be ostracized. Mark Twain was quoted as saying, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect. – Mark Twain. I must say I have always been leery of the concept that the majority rules and I wonder how often this fraternity scenario applies to the world at large. How often does this fraternity set up work itself into corporations, government, and schools? How often do the malicious manipulate the large bureaucratic population and stand in the way of the progress of futuristic thinkers. Is this psychological unbalance an integral link in destroying the world? Some food for thought. And with that here is chapter two of my story Catzilla. May the fourth be with you.  

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Two

Before he vanished, my dad used to ask me what I learned in school that day. If he asked me today, I would have said I learned that detention sucks. And it sucks even more when I am forced to serve a week of it with Ellery.

I don’t know any of the other kids who are in detention. They’re not exactly what I’d call advanced placement students. One of them literally picked his teeth with a small jack knife. All I could think about was what does that do to a person’s gums?

Ellery and I were told to sit on opposite sides of the room. But that didn’t stop him from making rude gestures at me. I ignored his tomfoolery and did my homework. My current biggest project is an essay I’m writing for English class. I’m supposed to choose and muse about a type of human behavior like why human beings buy a particular type of popular fashion even if it’s unflattering or why do so many Americans have trouble managing their money or how do rumors get started and why do people believe them. I had no idea what topic to choose and so I just wrote down different subjects that vaguely interested me.

About a half an hour into detention someone stood up and announced he wanted to go to the vending machine. We have a few at our school filled with granola bars, protein bars, and water.

“We went over this last time, Quincy,” the teacher who was babysitting us said. “No food or drink allowed in detention.”

“Yeah, but we’re like here for two hours, and I get hangry.”

“Sit down, Quincy. You’re annoying the other students.”

“Dude, I’m like going to pass out.”

“You’re tired because you got up early this morning and committed a crime.”

“No, I’m like hung over.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Quincy sat down and slumped over his desk like his pet hamster had just died. Then he glanced over at Ellery and then at me and then back at Ellery. Then he raised his hand.

“What now, Quincy?”

“What are these two in here for?” he said pointing at us.

The teacher gazed at Ellery and then me. “None of your business.”

“Were they like caught doing it in the bathroom?”

The rest of the inmates burst into laughter. I felt a horrible burning sensation crawl across my skin.

“I’m in here because I did it with your sister,” Ellery told Quincy.

“Watch your mouth, rich boy,” Quincy snapped as the rest of the students snickered.

“Enough!” the teacher said. “Everyone, get back to your homework.”

“But seriously,” Quincy said not giving up. “Why are these two in here? They’ve never been in here before.”

“Why are you in here?” I asked.

Quincy turned to me and grinned. Then he stuck his tongue between his fore and middle finger and waggled it at me.

“Does your cat like it when you do that?”

A stunned look crossed his face as the inmates broke into laughter again.

“No,” he said defensively.

Quincy shut up after that. At least for a while. I don’t know why I asked him if his cat liked that. I don’t even know if he has a cat.

Ellery smirked at me from across the room. I looked at him blankly then continued brainstorming. Quincy turned to me and whispered, “I know you. You’re that weird nerd girl. I’ll find out how you ended up in detention, weird nerd girl. People talk.”

Quincy was right. People talk but they rarely say anything. When I was in middle school, I would listen to students talk. They would talk about gaming, gossip, social media and what other pupils posted online. Sometimes they’d talk about movies, television, and trash books. My mind got bored and wandered and soon I was somewhere else. Still in the classroom mind you but somewhere else.

There’s this children’s book called Marianna Dreams. There was a hardback copy in the school library, and I checked it out. The librarian told me they only had one copy because it was out of print. The story is about this girl, about my age at the time, who gets a terrible fever. She finds this pencil in her room and draws pictures and whatever she draws she dreams.

Anyway, I thought it was a cool concept, so I started drawing pictures of what I’d like to dream about every night before I fell sleep. Unfortunately, I never dreamed what I drew…except once. Right before I fell asleep one night, I drew a picture of a cat sitting on the porch of a house. The cat was too big, and the house was too small. When I went to sleep that night, I dreamed I was in my bedroom when I got a strange feeling I was being watched. I went to the window and peeked through my curtains. Across the street there was a cat sitting in the neighbor’s porch swing. It was a house cat, but it looked more like a jungle cat with rich amber fur, tall wide hyena-like ears, and penetrating green eyes. It was sitting straight up swinging back and forth.

It caught me looking at it, opened its mouth and unfurled its tongue. The tongue rolled down the steps, over the lawn, across the street and stopped in our driveway. I noticed the tongue had writing on it and with closer inspection numbers. A long list of numbers. I wanted to get a closer look, so I left the room, went down the stairs, opened the door…and woke up. That was the only time I ever had a dream about something I drew. But it inspired me to keep drawing and my mother bought me a pack of colored pencils and drawing pads. She never questioned my need to draw. She just acquired the supplies and let me go at it.

After I finished my homework there were still thirty minutes to go, so I started drawing a picture of my large dream cat. I only had a number two pencil with me and no colors so I couldn’t give it amber fur or green eyes. But I was still able to draw its posture and glare. I had to erase and begin again a couple of times but after that it shaped up nicely. Then Quincy noticed what I was doing.

“Is that your cat?” he asked.

“No,” I said quietly and continued sketching.

“Whose cat is it?”

“No one’s.”

“Why are you drawing it?”

“I want to.”

“Give me the picture.”

“No.”

“Give it to me.”

“What’s going on, Quincy?” the teacher snapped.

“Briar’s drawing bestiality pictures.”

“What?” I said stunned.

“Briar,” the teacher said. “Come up here and show the class what you’ve drawn.”

“The whole class?”

“Yes.”

I glared at Quincy then grabbed my sketch and headed to the front of the room. I hesitated, then turned my dream cat picture around for all to see. Everyone looked at my drawing silently. Someone scoffed. Another giggled. But the rest of them just stared. 

“That’s a freaky looking cat,” one of the boys said. “It looks like it has elf ears.”

“Its eyes are weird,” a girl added. “They aren’t proportional.”

I looked over to the teacher who leaned back in his chair and laced his hands together behind his head and studied my drawing. “I used to be a middle school art teacher,” he finally said. “And that’s a fascinating sketch.”

“Thank you.”

“Where did you get the idea from?”

“I had a dream about a cat.”

“What breed of cat?”

I considered his question momentarily. “I don’t know what breed it is.”

“It looks like a Sphynx or possible an Abys. Would you say it has fur or is it hairless?”

“It has fur.”

“What message were you trying to convey with this drawing?”

“I don’t know. It was just a cat from my dream.”

The teacher nodded. “If you’ve finished your homework, you can continue with your drawing, Briar. And that goes for the rest of you. If you’ve finished your homework, you can sit and draw or write if you stay in your seat and don’t bother anyone. Thank you, Briar for sharing your artwork.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply hoarsely. Then I scurried back to my seat, opened my notebook, and attempted to draw another sketch of my dream cat.    

MY BOOKS

You can check out my books Chicane and all five installments of the Musicology book series Musicology: Volume One, Baby!, Musicology: Volume Two, Kid!, Musicology: Volume Three, Twist!, Musicology: Volume Four, Sweetie! and Musicology: The Epiquad on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback editions. You can also check out Musicology’s web site at www.musicologyrocks.com and vote for who you think will win Musicology!

STREAM OF THE WEEK: BEEF (2023)-NETFLIX

If you are looking for a show that’s angry, depraved, and downright disturbed look no further than this week’s pick. This naughty whip-smart dark comedy-drama by Lee Sung Jin is enthralling from the get-go with outstanding performances throughout. And the season ender does not disappoint. Beef may be one of the most honest examinations of ambition, disappointment, and relationships out there.

Danny (Steven Yeun) a struggling contractor, is just trying to return some hibachis he purchased at Forsters (a Home Depot/Lowes type store). He has decided not to kill himself with them by asphyxiation. But he has forgotten his receipt and the store refuses to process the return without it. Frustrated, he gets in his truck to return to his meager apartment he shares with his naive younger brother Paul (Young Mazino), to search for the receipt. As he is pulling out of his parking space, an opulent white SUV nearly hits him. The driver of the SUV flips Danny off and that becomes the spark that enrages him. He takes off after the SUV in a fantastic chase scene through an upper-class suburban neighborhood, dodging through traffic, driving over people’s lawns, and getting his window struck by objects the SUV driver flings back at him. Danny is determined but the SUV driver is just a little wilier than he is.

After the SUV gets away, we find out the driver is Amy (Ali Wong) a small business owner whose plant selling business is about to blow up and make her a fortune. Amy should be happy. She is married to handsome sculptor George (Joseph Lee) and the two have a young daughter named June (Remy Holt). But Amy is angry, unfulfilled, and petty. The incident with Danny ignites an insane revenge game where each of these two self-serving narcissists wage battle with each other, forcing the stakes to rise to more and more outrageous heights hurling them towards an explosive climax.