Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce Chapter Twenty-Six of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week my novelist and I thought it might be fun to list one dozen of the original motion picture scores that we enjoy listening to when we write. Our criteria being the scores must be almost exclusively instrumentals and they must have been original music written for the film. Here they are in alphabetical order:
- American Beauty by Thomas Newman
- Drive by Cliff Martinez. This one is still in print.
- Fire Walk With Me by Angelo Baldalamenti. This one is still in print.
- Memories of Murder by Taro Iwashiro
- Rocky by Bill Conti. This one is still in print.
- Rounders by Christopher Young
- Secretary by Angelo Baldalamenti.
- Sex, Lies and Videotape by Cliff Martinez
- Sideways by Rolfe Kent
- Taxi Driver by Bernard Herman. This one is still in print.
- The Game by Howard Shore
- Vertigo by Bernard Herman. This one is still in print.
As an honorable mention I will list Bubba Ho Tep by Brian Tyler and make this a baker’s dozen. This is a great score especially the tracks “All is Well” and “The King’s Highway”.
In addition, as a toy parti poodle I would like to extend an exuberant congratulations to Sage the miniature poodle who won the Best In Show at the Westminster Dog Show this week. This was a huge victory for the poodle pack worldwide. Here she is:
And with that here is chapter twenty-six of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. May the Poodles be with you.
Certified Sadistic Accountant
by
Gigi the parti poodle
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I’ll help,” Fia said rising from her chair and heading into the kitchen where Curtis was loading the dishwasher.
“There’s not much to do,” he said slipping the table knives into the silverware caddy.
“I’d rather be useful than bored.”
Curtis reached up and grabbed a small whisk broom and dustpan set. “You can sweep the table,” he said handing them to her. Her arm brushed against his leg as she did. Curtis felt a shiver run across his skin. A comfortable pleasant shiver. He looked down at her shiny hair and wondered what it felt like. “Thank you,” he said, his knuckle grazing hers as he took the set from her hand and put it back up on the hook.
“So, what are we doing today?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t go to work today so what are we doing instead?”
“I need to get this ransom note delivered.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s my priority.”
“Okay, fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to continue working on my project in the attic today.”
“What project?”
“My performance art piece.”
“Your performance art piece?”
“Your aunt has a lot of wonderful things in her attic. I didn’t realize how much it was until I got into some of the cabinets and boxes. Do you want to see what I’ve put together so far?”
Curtis thought he’d very much like to see what she’d put together so far. “I do not want to interrupt your work.”
“What do you mean? You would be helping me. I could use an audience at this point in the process.”
“I…would be delighted.”
“Why don’t I work up in the attic and you figure out your ransom note situation.”
Curtis nodded. “Alright,” he said and closed the door to the dishwasher.
After Curtis let Fia in the attic and locked the door, he went downstairs to his Aunt Odette’s office. He closed the door, sat down at the desk, and put his head in his hands. How exactly was he going to deliver that ransom note to the Dupree residence?
He could drive to the town just beyond the lake. There was a trading post there he could Fed Ex the letter to. He’d just pay cash, and no one would be the wiser. The only concern was the surveillance camera. If he could recognize Lance on his system, surely, they could recognize him on theirs. He would need to find a way to go incognito. But he needed to hurry because they likely closed at one on Saturdays. He thought about what Fia said about the clothes in the attic. Maybe there were some stored up there he could use. He grabbed the keys and headed up the stairs.
“Fia,” he said knocking on the attic door. “I need some help.”
“What’s the matter?” she said.
He unlocked the door and opened it. He saw she had the place set up like a black box theatre.
“What do you need?”
“I need some men’s clothes. I think Aunt Odette went through a menswear phase when I was a kid.”
“Okay…yeah. I think she did have some men’s clothing in that trunk over there,” she said pointing to a large vintage steamer trunk.
“Fantastic.” He made a beeline for the trunk. He unlatched it and opened the lid. He lifted out the full-length drawer inside that was snapped shut and set it on the floor. Inside were tailored suits, shirts, and hats.
“What do you need these clothes for? They look like they’re from the 70’s or something.”
“I have to go somewhere.”
“I thought you had to take care of the ransom note.”
“That’s where I’m going.”
“Are you sure these will fit you?”
“They’ll have to.”
“But you wear a suit to the office.”
“Not like these things.”
Fia studied him. “You want some help figuring out what to wear?”
Curtis stopped rifling through the trunk and considered her proposal. “Sure.”
Fia walked over to the trunk, knelt, and nudged him aside. She picked up a blue dress shirt and held it up against him. “This one matches your eyes,” she said.
Curtis watched her face as she studied the shirt before handing it to him, crawling over and unsnapping the drawer he’d taken out. She opened it to find a collection of silk ties, belts, tie bars, and cufflinks.
“Wow,” she said. These are some seriously wide ties. This one is snazzy.”
She picked up a silk tie with a gradation of three bold blue stripes. There was a black semicircle to the side with the rest of the length of the tie a golden tan. “Hold the shirt up against you again,” she said. He held it up and she laid the tie against it. He felt the back of her hand against his chest. Another shiver ran across his skin. “That doesn’t look half bad. Let’s pick out a jacket.” She lifted out a stack of folded shirts and set them aside. Then she pulled out a tan jacket and a blue one. “You know, I think the tan jacket looks pretty good, actually. Try it on.”
Curtis unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Fia noticed he wore a t-shirt underneath. He didn’t look half bad in it, she surmised. He put the blue dress shirt on over the T-shirt and began buttoning it up. Fia stood up and put the tie around his neck and started tying it. Curtis studied her as she did. She had creamy skin with childlike rosiness still in her cheeks.
Fia slipped the tie through the knot and tightened it. “There,” she said. “That looks good.”
“Thanks.”
“Put on the jacket.”
He swung the jacket over his shoulders, slid his arms through, straightened the lapels, and studied the hats. He grabbed a grey and white hound’s tooth fedora and put it on.
“You know what?” Fia said. “Let me style your hair. Give it a retro look.”
“Just hold still,” Fia said as Curtis sat on a wooden stool in the bathroom as Fia styled his hair with a curling iron. She took another section of his hair and rolled it up with the iron.
“I look stupid,” Curtis said studying his reflection in the mirror.
“Men got perms in the 70’s. My mom told me about it. My grandpa had one.”
“How long does the curl last?”
“A day maybe. If you wash your hair its gone.”
“Just one more section here.” She took the last of his hair and rolled it in the silver rod. She held it there for a moment and then released it. “There. What do you think?”
Curtis studied the results. “Bizarre.”
“I think you look 70’s cool. Stand up.” She set the curing iron on the counter and studied him. “Where are you going?”
“Let’s get you back to the attic so you can work on your performance art piece. Maybe tonight I can see you perform what you have.”
“Sounds good.”
Curtis nodded. “Wish me luck.”
Fia reached up and ran her fingers along his silk tie. “I could really use a flashlight up there. I would like to use it in my piece.”
“My aunt has one in her bedroom. I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you,” Fia said. She turned off the curling iron and left it on the counter to cool.
They left the bathroom and headed for the master bedroom. “She always kept one by her bedside,” Curtis said moving over to the bedside table and opening the drawer. “It’s small but its mighty.” He reached in and pulled out a small flashlight. He pointed it at the wall and turned it on. “Yep,” he said. “Works.” Then he handed the flashlight to Fia.
“This is perfect.”
“I look forward to seeing it in your show. Now, let’s get you back to the attic.”
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: THE ZONE OF INTEREST (2023)-HBO MAX
Evil comes in different forms. And one of them is indifference. This film is not for everyone. Not because it has explicit violence but because we never see violence. Violence is left to the imagination. And that’s what makes it chilling. But there is no doubt it is there, just on the other side of a wall that boarders on a beautiful piece of property in Poland. There are children, and lush gardens and flowers, and a clean airy house. And the house is filled with lovely things most of which were stolen off the dead burned bodies of Jews who were killed on the other side of the wall. We see the smoke, hear the screams and the gunfire. We even witness the ash used to help the gardens flourish. And the family, kids included, know exactly what’s going on. They know because they see the steam of the trains constantly coming in and the relentless smoke from the buildings filling the air. But they do not care. They are too interested in their treasures like long fur coats and French perfume and teeth filled with gold. They are happy with their lives and have no problem with the fact that it comes with the incineration of millions of men, women, and children next door in Auschwitz.
This is a stark film brilliantly directed by Jonathon Glazer who, despite the fact I adore Christopher Nolen, maybe should have taken the Oscar here. Not to mention the marvelous cinematography by Lukasz Zal. There are little to no close ups in the film. The audience is kept at a distance throughout because what we are viewing are soulless people, psychopathic people, with no real human emotion, save the wife’s mother who, while visiting the family has an epiphany. And it allows the audience to see the bigger picture. It forces us to step back and examine how to never let it happen again. The film is based on the book The Zone of Violence by Martin Amis who co-wrote the script with Glazer. The movie differs greatly from the book, which has more of a love story woven into it. There is no love story here.
Gigi Catches Air 