Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle back to introduce the first chapter of my new story Certified Sadistic Accountant.  I am delighted to say that my cone came off yesterday. My novelist will be getting me a new grooming appointment soon which is less delightful but at least I no longer have my cone. I got to go on my first walk in two weeks yesterday. I cannot tell you how fantastic it was to get out and move about. I was agog. I am filled with excitement over my new story. I wondered if I should have chosen to pen something with more of a holiday flavor as we are amid the holiday season. But I think it will be an enjoyable tale just the same and hopefully a rather engrossing one. And so, without further ado I present chapter one of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Jouir!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter One

On a cold and dreary April Fool’s Day, Curtis Cook, accountant and esquire parked his pale green Honda Accord in the small back parking lot of the Dupree Accounting Agency. The agency was a two-story brick building nestled in the downtown area of a modestly sized city of 35,000 people. Curtis loved tax season because it was the one time of year he really shined. The Dupree Accounting Agency employed four other accountants. And although said accountants had graduated from better business schools than Curtis, none of them were as adept as he. So good was Curtis at accounting, they nicknamed him Cook the Books. This, however, was not a term of endearment.

Despite his status as a master accountant, Curtis had never been one to make friends easily. In fact, Curtis didn’t have any real friends at all. His fellow accountants were always playing tricks on him like turning his computer screen upside down, wrapping his chair and desk in Saran Wrap, and crank calling him at lunch to tell him he’d won free tickets to a concert. These petty pranks did not go unnoticed by Mr. Dallas Dupree, founder, owner, and head honcho of the Dupree Accounting Agency. Mr. Dupree also harbored jealousy towards his exceptional employee. But he loved the steady stream of clientele Cook brought into his firm. Cook didn’t have a great rapport with the clients, but he was able to find loopholes and windfalls that none of the other accountants could find. And so, although he often praised Cook for his extraordinary accounting skills, Mr. Dupree turned a blind eye to Curtis’s persecution.

As Curtis entered the offices of The Dupree Accounting Agency that morning, he instinctively knew this was going to be an unusually good tax season. Perhaps one of the best of his career. And he was on track to reach another professional milestone. Despite being only twenty-six years old he was about to make his first $100,000. All those nights coming home to his small barely furnished duplex and sitting at his lonely breakfast nook working on his stocks, watching their performances, selling this, and buying that were starting to pay off.

The first thing Curtis did each morning when he arrived at work was make a fresh cup of coffee from the coffee maker in the break room. The other four accountants always purchased espresso from The Steamed Bean just around the corner from The Dupree Accounting Agency. Curtis used honey to sweeten his coffee since he’d read somewhere honey was healthier than sugar. And since Mr. Dupree always stocked the breakroom with raw honey from one of the local farms, he figured why not add it to his coffee.

Curtis was running late that morning and unable to make his favorite oatmeal he always purchased from the co-op located around the opposite corner from The Steamed Bean at the end of the street. But Mr. Dupree always ordered fresh croissants every morning from a little local bakery two blocks down from The Steamed Bean and around the corner on a side street. They would be delivering them in fifteen minutes. But Curtis at the ripe age of twenty-six had become health conscience since graduating from college and had only tried the croissants once…on his twenty-sixth birthday. Today, however, was…unusual. It was the only day he’d ever been late. It is important to point out that Curtis was not actually late. But in Curtis’s mind he was. He always arrived at work thirty minutes early. Today he arrived twenty minutes early. He was still the first person in the office.

Curtis picked up his coffee and went out into the main office area which included a receptionist desk and six accountant desks. Only five of the desks were filled…except during tax season when a temporary employee occupied the sixth seat. Curtis sat down in his ergonomic chair and looked outside the large front windows facing the street. It was a typical April morning: cool and damp with a slight drizzle. Alexa had told him there would be thundershowers in the late afternoon. Curtis was not a big fan of thundershowers as they made for fewer clients. And at this time of the year Curtis wanted all the clients he could take on. In fact, Curtis was hoping to increase his number of clients this year by fifteen percent. He thought that was a good number as Tax Day was April 15^th. Mr. Dupree was once again offering a bonus for the most successful accountant. Curtis wanted that prize money. He was sure he should have won the past two years. But two years ago, the prize money went to Lance Lexington and last year it went to Makenna Russo.

Curtis looked up and saw Mr. Dallas Dupree enter the office. He wore, as he often did, a navy-blue double-breasted wool suit with a silk olive green tie and pocket square, and a pair of black Bruno Magli loafers. “Morning, Curt,” Mr. Dupree said.

“Good morning, Mr. Dupree,” Curt replied.

“Have the croissants arrived yet?”

“Not yet.”

 Mr. Dupree checked his Tissot Classic Dream Black Dial Steel Quartz Watch. “I was thinking of not having them set out in the breakroom today. Keep them in my office for a while. A little April Fool’s joke, you see.”

“That sounds like a plan, Mr. Dupree.”

“I think you’re right. I will hide the croissants.” Mr. Dupree headed over to the front door and gazed outside at the melancholy weather. “My daughter is coming home for Spring Break this Friday.”

“It’s her senior year, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

“You must be very proud.”

“I was hoping she’d get a degree in Accounting like her father, but it looks like she’ll be getting a degree in Wingnut like her mother.”

“What degree is Wingnut, sir?”

“Performance Art. What is my daughter going to do with a degree in Performance Art? When I was in college, they never had a degree in Performance Art. I mean, you could get all kinds of oddball degrees like Cosmetology, Philosophy and General Studies. Useless things like that. But Performance Art takes the cake. Instead of buying her a college ring for graduation I might just as well purchase her a pup tent and an orange bucket. Maybe I could throw in some drumsticks so she could busk.”

“Is she heading off to grad school?”

“With scholarships no less. Apparently, that’s what they give you when you earn a 4.0 in Performance Art. The collegiate world wastes even more money by throwing it at you.”

Just then the kid from the bakery showed up with the box of croissants.  

“There she is, right on time,” Mr. Dupree said opening the door for the teen. “How are you, sport?”

“Just fine, Mr. Dupree,” she said. “I brought your baker’s dozen croissants.”

“Isn’t that marvelous. I’ll go ahead and take those from you.”

“Don’t you want me to set them in the breakroom?”

“Not today, sport. I’m going to hide them upstairs for a while. It’s a little April Fool’s joke I’m playing on the employees.”

“Okay,” she said handing him the large pink cardboard box. “Happy April Fool’s Day, Mr. Dupree.”

“Happy April Fool’s Day, sport.” Mr. Dupree gave her a tip, took the croissants, and headed upstairs to his office.

“Happy April Fool’s Day,” Curtis said to Sport.

The girl gave him a blank stare as if he were the creepiest guy she’d ever seen and left. Curtis felt a twinge of embarrassment. The same embarrassment he felt around members of the opposite sex. Especially the receptionist, Bexley. He’d had a crush on her ever since he’d started. Bexley always wore her straight dark brown hair in two braids and had textured bangs. Sometimes, when she didn’t feel like braiding it, she tied it off in sections with hairbands. She had steel blue eyes which she accentuated with heavy eyeliner and liked to wear orange lipstick to accentuate her lips. She had a stack of bracelets on her wrist that jingle-jangled and she tromped around the office in black leather combat boots and always called Mr. Dupree either “Dupree” or “Dallas”. Her complete disregard for respect made her even more luminous.

Curtis’s dream was to make enough money to impress Bexley. He often visualized scenarios of taking her out to a movie and to the best steakhouse in town…although he was certain she was a vegetarian. If he could just win the competition for best accountant this year, he knew he could gather up the courage to take her on a date.

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: AMERICAN BEAUTY (1999)-NETFLIX

When I first watched the satire American Beauty, I thought it was a solid film but not a great one. As time passed and I saw it again, I began to think about what made it intriguing. What kept coming to mind was the fact that Columbine occurred on April 20, 1999, and the film was released (limited) on September 15, 1999. And I think the timing hit a nerve with a lot of critics and film goers when it first came out.

How could a placid upper middle-class community like Columbine, Colorado, suddenly erupt into violence? The same question could be applied to American Beauty. How could a placid upper-middle class community in California suddenly erupt into violence? Why don’t we see the deadly wave coming and why do we do near nothing to stop it?

American Beauty did not set out to make a statement on mass shootings. And the film isn’t about mass shootings. But its roots are in American suburban violence. Alan Ball was initially inspired to write the script based on a highly publicized bizarre true crime love triangle where a 16-year-old girl named Amy Fisher had an affair with a 35-year-old man named Joey Buttafuoco. In 1991 after she turned 17, Amy proceeded to go to Joey’s house in Massapequa, New York, get in an argument with his then wife Mary Jo and shoot Mary Jo in the face with a .25 semiautomatic pistol. Somehow, somewhere at its core, American Beauty is a cautionary tale about the childishness of Americans, the way we focus on vanity and frivolity, and our blissful ignorance of looming treachery.

Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey) is a middle-aged media executive who lives with his ambitious materialistic real estate agent wife Caroline (Annette Benning). They have an angst-ridden teenage daughter named Jane (Thora Birch) who is on the dance squad at school with her friend Angela (Mena Suvari). Upon attending a basketball game where the dance squad performs, Lester becomes infatuated with Angela, and begins daydreaming, examining his life, and finding ways to change to win the girl of his dreams. Lester is, however, delusional about her being underage. In the meantime, Caroline, frustrated and hungry for greater success, engages in an affair with Buddy “the King” Kane (Peter Gallagher) a successful realtor.

A new family moves in next door to the Burnhams: Former marine Col. Frank Fitts (Chris Cooper), his near catatonic wife Barbara Fitts (Alison Janney) and their teenage son Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley). All are aptly named as fitting in is the last thing they are capable of, and the Colonel is prone to fits of rage. Frank takes issue with the homosexual neighbors Jim Olmeyer (Scott Bakula) & Jim Berkley (Sam Robards) who come to greet the Fitts family when they move in. Ricky becomes fascinated with Jane and films her from his bedroom window. By chance he strikes up a friendship with Lester and becomes his drug dealer. By the time we reach the climax of the movie, two guns have been taken off the mantle and at least one is going to go off.

From where I sit, the film’s message is to become an adult and appreciate life. Real life may be boring a lot of the time, but that doesn’t make it any less miraculous or precious. Sadly, it appears we are even more childish and more violent than we were in 1999. We’ve become more and more deluded by screens and less and less aware of the actual physical world around us. It’s been twenty-four years since the movie’s release, and we have learned less than nothing. Some critics think the film is dated and they take issue with Kevin Spacey’s personal life. But I think the film tragically becomes more powerful with age. For me it is a satire on shallowness and ignorance and how the pursuit of facades plays a crucial part in violent tragedy. American Beauty isn’t just the title of the film, it’s the villain.