Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to present to you Chapter Twenty-Six, the final chapter of Catzilla. My novelist and I will be taking a couple of weeks off so I can prepare to begin work on my next story. This has been a long tale and I for one am exhausted. For the next couple of weeks, my novelist and I will be focusing on two of our favorite subjects: movies and television. I am spending my free time these days preparing for Halloween. I love barking at trick-or-treaters. Little gives me more joy than running to the door when the moppets come knocking and barking at them as if they were villainous monsters. It is the absolute most fun. My novelist loves giving out treats to these miniature costumed creatures. It is one of the highlights for her of the holiday season. The Maltese on the other hand could not care less. He lies in his special bed that I didn’t get and enjoys It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, Garfield in Disguise, The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror, and Butt-o-ween. He is an absolute couch potato. Perhaps I should stick a lit candle in his mouth and make him sit outside the door. And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-six, the final chapter of Catzilla.   

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Dad?” I said desperate to see.

“That van should be slowing down in three…two…one…” I heard tires screech to a halt before the vehicle slammed into something. “Stay here.”

I heard my dad’s feet pound off into the distance. I sat there feeling trapped in space hoping the damp cloth would help my eyes to open soon. A twig snapped behind me. I whipped around thinking it was a teenager on their way home. And then I felt the horrible sensation of hot breath against my face. A whisper of something brushed across my hair and then the unmistakable sound of a soft purring motor.

I jumped forwards not knowing where I was heading, engulfed in darkness. I landed softly on the grass and teetered. The horrible weight of a paw pressed against me and held me fast to the ground. I screeched and turned on my side trying to gain leverage with my foot. “Dad!” I yelled. “Dad!” I twisted in the other direction and tried to get back on my feet. The cat leaned in and licked me with its gigantic sandpaper tongue. “Augh! Get off me!” I grabbed the kitten’s fur on its front paw and yanked. The kitten did not take kindly to this. She leaned in and hissed in my face like a cobra. I gave her fur another yank and she swatted at me, her claws grazing my cheek. I grabbed onto one of the overgrown talons and bent it backwards. The kitten screeched and pulled back. In the distance I heard the scrambling of feet heading in my direction.

“Briar!” my mom yelled.

She rushed up, stepped over me and climbed onto the kitten. “Mom!” A second pair of feet came pounding up. I felt someone grab me and drag me out from under the cat’s paw. “Dad?” It became apparent it was not my dad. I sensed my vision starting to return. Through the blurry haze I started to make out my surroundings. I could see Dr. Groser standing beside me looking up at my mother.

“Gagnon,” Dr. Grosser yelled. “Come down here or I will be forced to harm your daughter!”

“Touch her and I’ll destroy you!” my mom yelled back.

“Put down my antidote or I’ll sic my guards on her!”

The person who grabbed me from behind lifted me off the ground. I yelped and panicked but then I heard my mom shout, “Wrap your leg! Wrap your leg!” It was at that point I remembered my mom making me go to self-defense class and what I learned on those six Saturdays. I wrapped my left ankle around my captor’s left ankle. He started to lose balance and I turned and struck him in the groin with the heel of my hand one, two, three times. The thug let go of me and I palm heeled him in the face one, two, three times. Then I started to run towards my mother. Dr. Grosser grabbed my arm, but I made a fist, grabbed it with the other hand, pulled my hand out, and broke loose from her grip and palm-heeled her in the face one, two, three times as well.

I made a dash for the kitten, grabbed onto its fur, and started climbing up towards my mother as fast as I could. I saw her lift her arm and stab the kitten with a syringe. She pushed down the plunger. The kitten let out a loud howl twisting and turning trying to get us off her.

Dr. Grosser slipped her hand into her pocket and produced a small case. She unzipped it around its perimeter and began advancing towards us. I looked down below and saw my dad fist-fighting with the thug who’d grabbed me.

“Dad!” I yelled. “Dr. Grosser’s got a syringe!”

My dad tried to dodge the thug, but the thug took a swing and clocked my dad in the jaw.

“Dad!”

Dr. Grosser kicked off her jet-black heels and began climbing the kitten, the syringe dripping with venom.

“Mom, she’s coming!”

My mom turned and saw the professor advancing on us. The kitten, not liking a third person on it thrashed its long furry tail around like a windshield wiper.

“You’re going to have to kick the syringe out of her hand,” my mom told me.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Gagnon,” the professor said closing in on us. “You’ve interfered with my work for the last time.”

“On the count of three,” my mom said. “One…”

Dr. Grosser grabbed my arm.

“Two…”

Dr. Grosser took the cap off the syringe.

“Three!”

I kicked Dr. Grosser’s hand as hard as I could. She yelped and let go of the syringe which became airborne. My mom reached out and caught it.

“No!” Dr. Grosser yelled as my mom plunged the syringe into the kitten and pushed the plunger.

The kitten howled and bucked causing my mom to lose her balance and slip. I reached out and grabbed her hand just as she was about to fall. She pulled herself back into a stable position as the professor, her eyes filled with fire, watched the kitten shrink before her eyes like an air balloon deflating. As we sank slowly to the ground, I could see my dad rush over to my mom and me. “Briar,” he said as he hugged me. Then he hugged mom. I have only seen my mom cry once. But when my dad took her in his arms, I saw tears well in her eyes.

Lyle came home from the hospital Monday. I was heading home from school and saw him playing tetherball in his yard.

“Lyle,” I called running over to him. “You’re home.”

“I’ll be back in school tomorrow,” he said beaming.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too…would you like to play tetherball with me?”

“Sure,” I said and set down my backpack.

Lyle grabbed the ball and handed it to me. “You serve.”

“Okay.”

I put the tetherball in my hand and started to wind up.

“Meow.”

Lyle and I both turned around to see a white cat with dark accents.

“That’s a Balinese,” Lyle said.

The kitten which appeared malnourished looked at us with anxious eyes.

I turned to look towards Ellery’s house. In the driveway I could see him and Quincy sitting there on their electric bikes watching us. Waiting.

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 SHINING (1980)-HBO MAX

Continuing with my list of Halloween movies to watch I decided to pick this masterpiece from one of my all-time favorite directors Stanley Kubrick. One of the major problems with films of the current day is they don’t take time to ramp up their story. They also have a terrible habit of starting at the top of the third act and then whipping back around to the first scene. This is often (not always such as in the case of Pulp Fiction) a sign that the story is less than stellar. Part of the problem is the audience. They are not as mature or as patient as audiences were in 1980. They walk into a theatre and need action right off the bat instead of allowing the story to unfold. I have mentioned before I had a fantastic scene study teacher when I attended my PATP program who gave us life lessons when he directed us in scenes. One lesson which has always stood out for me was about extended adolescence. Each generation reaches adulthood at a later and later point. So, now we have come to a disturbing era in history where we are stuck with a slew of inane superhero movies which at one time were thought to be for grade school students. And sadly, most of them still are, save for perhaps films like Unbreakable. But the audience contains a disproportionate number of adults who eat fast food, wear fast fashion, and are constantly fixed to a hand-held screen. Mike Judge was right. We are heading towards Idiocracy.

Stanley Kubrick started out as a successful chess hustler and a photographer for LOOK magazine before he took on film direction. He had an extraordinary eye for film, the mind of a genius, and was way ahead of his time. He once said he didn’t have good enough grades to get into a university which says volumes about the American education system. He was also an INTJ and those of us who are NTs (10% of the population) do not think like others. Stephen King is an INTP which makes this film even more remarkable. The story has a great deal to do with loneliness and isolation which is something introverted NT’s struggle with. We need our alone time but when we want the company of others we are often misunderstood. If you are in a world where only 2-4% of the population thinks like you, it is a dark, gloomy, and unfriendly place indeed.

So, why is it important for a story to be able to start at the beginning and not rely on time manipulation? Set up, set up, set up…and suspense. The opening shot of the little yellow Volkswagen on the curves is reminiscent of a treacherous maze. The teddy bear on David’s bed comes back in a disturbing vision his mother has in the third act. The use of red throughout is a spectacular warning and gives us clues to what is coming, especially at the precise point Jack starts wearing that jacket. The seemingly innocuous outdoor play at the hotel between mother and son pays off hugely and what a great edit from Jack’s perspective to them. One of the most important early scenes is between Wendy (Shelly Duval) and the pediatrician where they discuss when Danny started talking to Tony. That is the gun on the mantle. If you start at the top of the third act with this story, the payoff is dampened.

It isn’t always bad to start a story somewhere other than its actual beginning like the fantastic Memento (Christopher Nolen is also an INTJ) which begins at the end and moves towards the beginning, but so many stories try to cover their flaws and capture the audience’s attention by starting at a place where action is in full swing. In other words, they make up for their mediocrity by cheating and much like synthesizers in 80’s music or rap in the middle of a modern song it grows repetitive and annoying fast.  

One of the best things Kubrick instills in his work is a sense of humor. I found myself laughing out loud on several occasions as I rewatched this. It’s hilarious because it’s both serious and absurd. Films and shows that seem strange to others seem perfectly normal and rational to me.

The Shining was nominated for two Razzie Awards, one for Shelly Duval for Worst Actress and Stanley Kubrick for Worst Director, which goes to show once again how shortsighted people can be when a new take on the art form is introduced and how far ahead Kubrick was. Duval’s nomination was retracted in 2022. She should have never been nominated for a Razzie in the first place. The performance Kubrick got out of her was stunning.  I have no idea why Kubrick’s nomination wasn’t retracted. I guess because Kubrick remains eons ahead of the rest.

Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twenty-five of Catzilla. Today is the funeral of my human uncle which my novelist and I will be attending. One of the worst parts about dealing with the passing of a loved one is clearing out their home. My uncle unfortunately lived at SHAG which stands for Satan’s Housing and Goats. It is also a British word for “getting busy”. It is also a carpet style of the 1970’s often seen in sleazy pornography. If you are a senior citizen and old enough to live in these places or are planning to, don’t. Retched doesn’t begin to describe them. Keep in mind my uncle always paid his rent and we had the place professionally cleaned not long before he left us by a superb maid service. When my novelist and I told them our uncle had passed they

1. Ignored us at first.
2. Never offered condolences.
3. Told us they were going to change the locks and we could only enter to clear out his apartment during office hours at their approval.
4. Put a notice on the door of his place that looked like he was being evicted.
5. Emailed us a cold and heartless letter.
6. Came to change the locks when we were trying to box up his things.
7. The paint easily rips off the apartment doors.

Rotten experience all around. I suggested leaving Tucker the Maltese there to do as he pleased which he is outstanding at when provoked but my novelist is not one to sink to the level of vermin. SHAG (Satan’s Housing and Goats) is a Hades before you die. We do, on the other hand, highly recommend Aegis (Angels Elevating Grace in Service), where our uncle stayed briefly. Cannot say enough good things about them. But as far as SHAG (Satan’s Housing and Goats) is concerned, please avoid this sewer at all costs if you are a senior citizen. And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-five of Catzilla.

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Five

The kitten turned and my mom hit the brake just in time to screech to a halt. The startled kitten lunged at the truck. My mom backed up causing the kitten to miss. The kitten lunged again, and my mom backed up more. Our little game with the kitten bought time allowing some of the panicked students to escape to their homes. The kitten lurched; we backed up. The kitten lurched; we backed up. I checked the passenger’s sideview mirror and saw Dr. Grosser get back in the van as the thugs headed our way.

“Mom, they’re coming.”

My mom looked in the rearview mirror. “Well, they’d better get out of the way,” she said before throwing the truck into reverse and heading straight for them. One of the goons jumped out of the way, the other grabbed onto the truck and jumped in the bed.

“He’s in the truck, mom!”

“He’s asking for a ride.”

She spun the truck around and drove towards the kitten. The kitten lunged at the truck again rising and swatting her paw at us. My mom backed up and the thug slammed something against the back window causing it to spiderweb. Both my mom and I jumped, but my mom recovered quickly and hit the break causing the guy in the truck bed to lose his balance.

The kitten, fed up with our toying with it, leaped onto the hood causing the truck to tip forwards at a slant and sending the thug sliding towards the cabin. The kitten proceeded to walk onto the top of the truck. She swatted at the thug in the truck bed who screamed and jumped away shaking the truck. My mom tried revving the engine, but the kitten’s weight kept us tipped at a downwards trajectory. Suddenly, the kitten leaped into the truck bed causing the weight to shift, and the truck came back down on all four wheels.

“Let’s get out,” my mom said.

“What about that guy back there?”

“He’s playing with the cat.”

“We can’t just leave him there. You saw what happened to the dog.”

My mom sighed. “Fine.” We disembarked just in time to see the moll jump out of the truck bed and run with the kitten bounding after him. “Come on. We’re getting that antidote.” She marched straight for the unmarked white van Dr. Grosser was in.

“What if she doesn’t have it?” I asked hot on her heels.

“Oh, she has it. She always keeps whatever antidote she’s developing on her person as well as some at the lab.”

“But then there’s the issue of getting close enough to the kitten.”

“We’ll worry about that when its time to worry about that.”

My mother stepped up to the driver’s door of the van and banged on it. “Dr. Grosser, get out here.”

Suddenly, the driver revved the engine. “She’s leaving,” I said.

“Not without us.” Mom reached into her coat pocket, pulled out an emergency tool, and smashed the driver’s side window. “Aero had it in the truck.”

The glass spiderwebbed on impact shocking the driver. Dr. Grosser, who was in the passenger’s seat leaned forwards to see what happened. “Gagnon,” she said when she saw my mom. “I knew it was you.”

My mom signaled for me to run to the passenger’s side before she struck the windshield causing it to spiderweb as well. “Get out of the truck,” she told Dr. Grosser.

“And you’ll strike me with your paltry toy if I don’t.”

“I’ll strike you either way.”

“You always were an annoyance wanting me to think things through before I did them. If I always thought things through, I’d waste half my life away.”

“Get out of the truck.”  

Dr. Grosser rolled down her window and sprayed me in the face with a can of bear mace. It burned like fire, and I screamed and hit the ground. As I tried to rub the horrible stinging substance off my eyes, my mom ran around to the passenger’s side of the van. There was a scuffle, and I felt the heat of the dust kick up as the van sped off.

“Mom!” I yelled. “Mom!”

Somewhere in the madness someone grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. I felt the cool sensation of water across my face and then an arm across my shoulders.

“Come on,” a familiar voice said.

The voice navigated us through the frantic teenagers who were still attempting to get home. I stumbled along with them until we arrived at a vehicle.

“I’m not getting in,” I said. “I don’t know you.”

I felt more cool water on my face and then a soft washcloth. “You’ll be okay,” the voice said. “It’ll pass.”

“My mom needs help with that van.”

“They won’t get far.”

“How do you know?”

“I did something to the tires.”

“My mom’s in that van.”

“That’s why I did it.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m your dad.”

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-YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974)-HBO MAX

This week I thought I’d focus on Halloween and all its spookiness and choose this comic horror gem shot in glorious black and white. Co-written by Gene Wilder and Mel Brooks (who also directs) it is the story of respected physician and scholar Dr. Frederick Frankenstein (Wilder) who has lived his entire life ashamed of his great grandfather Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s work of bringing the dead back to life. One day after teaching a class at the American Medical Institute, a messenger comes to tell Frederick he has inherited his grandfather’s estate in Transylvania. Frederick leaves the college to go to the estate and study his grandfather’s research. In doing so he must leave his fastidious fiancé Elizabeth (Madeline Khan) who always keeps him at arm’s reach.

When he arrives in Transylvania, he is met at the train station by Igor (Marty Feldman) a hunchback bug eyed servant whose own grandfather worked for Frederick’s grandfather and a pretty blonde lab assistant named Inga (Terry Garr). The three arrive at the Frankenstein castle where the intimidating housekeeper Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman) greets them. Apparently, she had an ongoing affair with Victor Frankenstein. Frederick is skeptical of his grandfather’s work at first but after studying his writings he begins to believe reanimation might conceivably work.

Rounding out the cast are Peter Boyle as The Monster and Kenneth Mars as Inspector Kemp. Look for cameos by Mel Brooks and Gene Hackman. 

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle once again to introduce chapter twenty-four of Catzilla. It has been a sad and strange week as we have been mourning the loss of my human uncle. We also had a bunny rabbit die in the back yard which has been a puzzle as it exhibited no signs of trauma. I find myself struggling to be my usual witty self and many arrangements have had to be made keeping all of us here quite busy. It’s amazing how many things must be done. Many of which are unpleasant and necessary. I will say that when dealing with a sad season in life it is important to find humor and so my novelist will be recommending a comedy this week. Comedies deserve a lot more respect than they get. So, without further ado I will introduce chapter twenty-four of Catzilla.

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Four

My mom and I heard the pounding of the goons’ feet as we raced down the hall. When we turned the corner, I looked back for a second and saw the shadows of the men stretch across the wall. My mom rushed down the stairs with me right on her heels. I could almost feel the heat of the men’s breath on my neck. We pounded down the stairs, hit the bottom, and dashed for the exit sign.

The men raced after us in hot pursuit. “Ladies!” one yelled. “Ladies!”

My mom got to the exit and pushed the bar on the door. Suddenly, one of the men grabbed my shoulder. “Mom!” I yelled.

Mom whipped around and searched frantically for a weapon. She found a piece of pipe, grabbed it, and slammed it down on the thug’s elbow. The thug yipped and unhanded me. The other thug skittered to a stop just as my mother took my hand and burst through the door to the front parking lot.

This was not the best time to learn how hard it is to run in flats. “Mom,” I said. “I can’t run in these!”

She stopped, turned around and I pointed to my shoes. “We’ll get you new ones,” she replied.

“Mom!” I hobbled and tripped along after her. The second thug burst through the door just as we turned the corner and headed towards the chain link fence. My mom held her key card up to the pad and the gates began to part. We could see Areo’s small white truck waiting for us. I hurried to the passenger’s side as my mom hopped into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and hit the gas. We barreled forwards zooming down the road to freedom. I held on to the handle above the door for dear life.

“We must get back to Quincy’s dad’s garage. How are your shoes?”

“I wish I’d worn sneakers.”

“You’ll be fine. Right now, we have a giant red cat we need to thwart.”

“What are we going to do about the Edevanes and Professor Grosser?”

“Excellent question. But first we need to get to that garage. I never liked Ellery. He’s a menace. I’m going to pull off the road up here.” She slowed the speed of the truck and took a sharp right down a dirt road driving deep into the trees. She killed the engine and turned off the headlights.

“What are we doing here?”

“Waiting for those goons to drive on by.”

“Do you think they know we turned off the road?”

“They wouldn’t know I knew where to turn off the road.”

“How did you know where to turn off the road?”

“Your dad and I used to come here sometimes. Before you were born.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

My mom and I waited in the forest for several minutes with the headlights off. Then she inched slowly towards the road and scrutinized it carefully before she turned the headlights back on and headed for Quincy’s father’s garage. When we arrived, my mom parked the car across the street, turned it off and waited.

“I think the door on the pole building is open,” I said after looking the property over.

My mom leaned in closer. “I think you’re right. I think we may have gotten here too late.”

She started the truck and drove across the street to the garage. She pulled up to the pole building. “Wait here,” she told me.

She disembarked the truck and walked up to the door and looked inside. She hurried back to the truck and hopped in. “We are too late.” She started the engine and we headed en route to the high school.

As we drew close, we could hear the muffled sound of pandemonium. My mom drove faster and as we closed in on our location, we could see kids running around in a panic. Some were screaming, some were crying, some looked like they were in shock. My mom hit the brakes as a couple of them ran in front of us. Suddenly, we saw the kitten. It looked like it had grown even larger since we’d locked it in the pole house. It prowled with a weight that made the ground tremor.

“It’s huge,” I said.

“Even huge insane creatures can be stopped,” mom said. “What we need is the antidote.”

“I’m not sure there is an antidote.”

“Oh, there’s an antidote. Dr. Grosser always makes an antidote.”

“But we already left the Edevane factory.”

“We’re going back.”

“Look.” My mom looked and an unmarked van just like the one Lyle and I saw when we visited Quincy and drugged the kitten. The side door opened and out stepped the two thugs and Professor Grosser.  

“How are we going to get the antidote from her?”

My mom studied Dr. Grosser. “We’re going to have to get the kids safe first.”

“How?”

“Distract the cat.”

My mom hit the gas and drove straight for the kitten.

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: A.P. BIO (2018)-Peacock

If you are looking for something awesome and hilarious and easy to binge look no further than this fantastic Peacock gem from Seth Meyers and Mike O’Brian. The show originally ran on NBC who dropped it from their schedule and Peacock wisely picked it up.

Dr. Jack Griffin (spot on played by Glenn Howerton) is a narcissistic award-winning Harvard philosophy professor who after getting passed over by rival Miles Leonard (Tom Bennet) disgraces himself by pitching a huge fit, and no university will touch him. He finds himself living in his deceased mother’s house in Toledo, Ohio and is hired to teach A.P Biology at Whitlock High School by likeable softy Principal Ralph Durbin (also spot on played by Patton Oswald). Jack arrives at the school, crashes into the school sign, chases off a bicyclist with a tire iron and tells his frightened class of eggheads to shut up, he will not be teaching them biology and that they are now his partners in staging a revenge plot against Miles.

Jack’s trio of fellow teachers are art teacher Mary Wagner (Mary Sohn), history teacher Stef Duncan (Lyric Lewis), and health and home economics teacher Michelle Jones (Jean Villepique). Durbin’s wacky secretary is Helen Demarcus (Paula Pell). Main students include preppy nerd Marcus (Nick Peine), goofy egghead Heather (Allisyn Snyder), persnickety know-it-all Sarika (Aparna Brielle), gentle souled intellectual Anthony (Eddie Leavy) clueless brain Victor (Jacob Houston) and cool guy Dan (Spence Moore II). Sadly, the other two main characters intellectual goth Devin (Jacob McCarthy) and soft-spoken brain Colin (Tucker Albrizzi) both left the show after the first season to work on other projects and were excellent on the show.  

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twenty-three of my story Catzilla. The rain here has been coming down in torrents. As a poodle I get anxious when we get rain like this. It is most horrifying. Scarier to me than Halloween. Last night was unearthly. Buckets lashed down from the skies. I was mortified. I stayed very close to my novelist sitting on the blanket in her lap as she did her writing. I would get antsy and move to my pillow on the floor and then hop back into the chair. Thunder rumbled. Lightning struck. Rain poured. I was devastated. I was hoping things would get better today and my novelist was uncharacteristically optimistic. We went for a walk and got caught in a rainstorm. Not as bad as last night mind you, but I came home drenched. I was toweled off. My gorgeous curls were mashed and damp. That dratted Maltese laughed. Horrible. Hopefully the weather will clear soon, and I can become stable again. Until then here is chapter twenty-three of Catzilla. May you stay dry and comfortable.    

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Three

My mom turned around and narrowed her eyes. She stood up very straight and scrutinized the owner of the voice. “Fortunately, it’s been a long time, professor,” she said.

“Indeed,” Dr. Grosser said. “From what I understand you’ve gotten your meat hooks into my latest experiment.”

“I’d hardly call it an experiment. More like a death wish gone rogue.”

“I’m merely doing what the Edevanes require. That is my job. As far as going rogue, I am in complete control of the experiment. The Edevanes needed a test done determining how far customers are willing to extend generosity. And the results show quite far. Have you ever noticed how pets have been bred to look more and more like human babies? It’s rather terrifying. Human beings simply love pets. And even when a seemingly normal kitten continues to grow bigger and bigger right before their eyes, they keep feeding it no matter how absurdly large it becomes. One of your neighbors was always willing to feed the kitty. If that’s the case, how could a company harness that frail human instinct to lure a customer into buying one’s product?”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Hardly. I am lucidly sane. Imagine a world where a customer’s generosity would drive them into purchasing more and more. Even better, how they could be manipulated into wanting to outshine their neighbor, give twice as much by buying more. We noticed how each neighbor would give the kitty more than the neighbor before. It became an endless cycle. And to the degree to which they would compete was utterly fascinating. Creating a logarithm to put into motion is how the Edevane factory is going to triple its sales.”

“They won’t be selling anything with a giant cat on the loose bent on destruction.”

“There are always setbacks. But how many people can a giant cat demolish? Not enough to matter compared to the behemoth this company could become.”

“That kitten might have killed my friend!” I shouted. “He’s on route to the hospital and he still hasn’t woken up!”

“You are young. You will make other friends. People place far too much value on friendship. A good friend today is only destined to become a memory tomorrow. Friends come into your life, and they leave your life through a perpetual revolving door. They don’t matter and you cannot count on them. What does matter are sales and what you can count on are profits. Profits are what pays for the heat, the groceries, the new SUV, and the trip to Dubai. All far more worthy aspirations than friends. Right now, I believe Ellery Edevane and his friend Quincy are pulling up to the mechanics business you just left. Quincy’s father is with them and will soon be opening the doors to the pole building where you so naively put the cat. Soon our kitty will be let loose to run rampant once again.”

“You’re insane!”

“One must always finish what one has set out to do.”

My mom grabbed my hand and we headed for the exit.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

My mother pressed down the latch on the door but as she opened it two large guards stepped in front of us.

“I cannot have you going out there attempting to be heroes. That simply won’t do. These two lovely gentlemen are going to make sure you stay put.”

“Mom,” I whispered. “The kids leaving the dance.”

“Fine,” my mom said to Dr. Grosser. “We’ll stay.”

“Do hand these kind gentlemen your cellphones, will you?”

My mom and I reluctantly handed the two goons our cell phones.

“Take them to the office upstairs,” Dr. Grosser told the men. “They might as well get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

The goons stepped aside allowing my mom and I to step out of the laboratory into the hall. I wished my mom still had her mace on her. We might have had a chance to spray them and run for the exit. I had no idea how we were going to get out of this now.

“Start walking, ladies,” one of the goons told us in a gruff voice. “Right up the stairs.”

We began climbing the stairs towards the offices where Lyle’s mother worked. All I could think about were Lyle and my classmates and the giant red kitten roaming free. I looked at my mother who seemed serene as if none of this phased her.

“Turn left,” the second goon said.

“Bend sinister,” my mom said.”

“What?”

“To go left is to bend sinister. Did you know a disproportionate number of criminals are left-handed?”

“Is that so?”

“It is so.”

“Yeah. Well, thanks for the trivia. “Bend sinister here, lady.”

We turned and the second goon held his keycard up to the pad turning it from red to green. Then he opened the door, and the first goon escorted us inside.

“If you think about leaving or doing anything stupid, we’ll be right outside. Enjoy your stay, ladies.”

They shut the door and locked it. My mother walked over to the whiteboard on the wall opposite the desk and wrote, “look up”. I looked up at the ceiling. Then she wrote, “we are leaving now” and underlined “now”. She pointed to the desk. I walked over and warily looked up. I stepped onto the desk, reached up with my hands and pushed the ceiling tile up and scooted it over one inch. I scooted it over another inch, and then again, and then again. Finally, I was able to scoot it over enough for me to get through. I grabbed the ceiling. My mother stepped up on the desk and pushed and guided me through the opening. I crawled forwards with trepidation and found it to be sturdier than I expected. I looked down and saw my mom step down, erase the whiteboard and step back onto the desk. She pushed the tile above her over another inch and then pushed it again. She hoisted herself up and met me in the ceiling. We both carefully closed the tile and my mom pointed forwards.

“Do you want me to take the lead?” my mom whispered. “I know how far we have to go.”

I nodded my head and my mom awkwardly scooted around in front of me and I scooted behind. My mom started crawling forward with me at her heals. We headed down the hall over the offices towards the front entrance. This was not easy as I was afraid of us getting stuck over the factory as opposed to over the offices and then having the tiles give way. But my mom knew where she was going and after a couple of minutes she stopped.

“Here,” she whispered. She carefully moved the tile away in front of her and stuck her head down and surveyed the room. “This is it,” she said. “We’ll have to move fast.”

I looked down and saw the desk below was further away than I was comfortable with. My mom, however, worked herself down and landed on the industrial carpet like a superstar. She motioned for me to follow her, but I hesitated.

“We have to hurry,” she said, “or that cat’s getting sprung loose.”

“I’m going down over the desk,” I said and scooted over and pushed back another tile.

“We should probably scoot those two tiles back before we go.”

“You’re right,” I said and carefully slipped down onto the desk landing more like a backup singer than a superstar. I turned, reached up and slowly scooted the tile back into place. Then I stepped down onto terra firma.

“Help me take this plant off this small table here and then we can move the table under the open tile.” I moved over and picked up the potted aspidistra and set it on the floor. My mom lifted the table and placed it under the askew tile. My mom stood up on the table, reached up and began scooting the tile back into place. Suddenly the tile tilted, and I ran over to try and help catch it, but it hit the floor with a bang. My mom and I looked at each other and knew the thugs must have heard the sound. “Let’s go!”

We hurried to the door, opened it, and headed out en route for the stairs at the front side of the building.

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: CACHÈ (HIDDEN) (2005)-TUBI

If ever there was a movie to prove the screenwriters were right about AI, this one is it. This French gem by director Michael Haneke is a complex unusual puzzle of a story that has been debated ever since its release in 2005. The movie was robbed of an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Language Film because the film is in French and Haneke is Austrian which the Academy didn’t allow. Stupid. As far as I’m concerned Best Foreign Language Film is a film in a language other than English made in a country other than America. And frankly, this category should allow seven instead of five films. Too many great foreign films have gotten passed over for a nomination and certainly in present day, everyone makes better films than the Americans. It’s embarrassing. The best film in theatres this summer was the re-release of the 2003 movie Old Boy, a masterpiece of modern South Korean cinema, which, by the way, AI couldn’t write either.  

The movie starts out with a mundane shot of a city street in Paris. We see the occasional car or bike drive by, and the shoot just stays still. But it doesn’t take us long to find out what we’re really watching is a video tape. A tape that has been sent to the home of bourgeois TV literary reviewer Georges Laurent (Daniel Auteuil) and his wife Anne Laurent (Juliette Binoche) who works in publishing anonymously. The couple have a twelve-year-old son named Pierrot Laurent (Lester Makedonsky) and wonder if the boy’s friends sent it as a prank. But another anonymous tape is sent wrapped in a white piece of paper with the drawing of a face spewing blood and the couple starts to wonder if they are not being pranked but stalked. To say more about the story would ruin it. But I will mention this: pay very close attention to the last shot of the film and look at it from different angles.

After and only after you’ve watched the film entirely, I would encourage you to look at this review by Roger Ebert.

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to present chapter twenty-two of my story Catzilla. Fall is just around the corner, and it has been preceded by the cold season. Everyone around my novelist is sick. Except my novelist and me. I fear she will fall ill soon and where does that leave me? Abandoned on a desert island to fend for myself. Try as I might, I cannot seem to figure out how to open those blasted cans of dog food. And the treats in the zip locking bags and the goodie jar, forget it. I can’t climb up there. I can’t open those infernal bags. I need my sustenance. I need my novelist to remain well. She tells me not to worry. A cold would not make her so ill she could not feed me. I simply do not believe her. I’ve seen her get sick and it’s disturbing. More terrifying than a Kubrick film. I can see the elevator doors opening now and all the horror breaking loose. I have been making sure she is taking her vitamin C. That she is wearing a mask when she is out of the house. That she is taking me for walks and getting fresh air. She must not get a cold. She must not get a cold. And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-two of Catzilla.

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Two

Aero ran back inside the building and headed towards mom and me. Lyle wasn’t a big kid by any far stretch of the imagination, but it was awkward trying to get him out of the truck just the same.

“Okay, Mrs. Gagnon.”

“Garnet.”

“Okay, Garnet. I’m going to reach inside and try and get him out.”

Aero opened the truck door and tipped Lyle up to a sitting position, slid his hands under him and carried him out of the truck. “He’s heavier than he looks. Could you get his legs, Garnet?” He turned and looked at the drooped-over cat. “Let’s ditch the truck and get out of here.”

Areo and my mom carried Lyle towards the exit with me following behind. Aero reached over and put in the code to let the doors roll down. Then he laid Lyle down on the grass. “Lyle,” Aero said to him patting his face. “Lyle buddy, you with us?” Lyle didn’t respond. Aero checked his pulse. “He’s still with us but we’d better get him to a hospital.”

“You need to drive him,” my mom said.

“I’ve got a lot of work here I need to finish.”

“Drive this boy to a hospital now. And before you do, we need a car since the truck is in there with the cat.”

“Most of the cars here don’t work. That’s why they’re here.”

“You must have something.”

Aero thought about it for a moment and said, “There’s this one sports car I’ve been rebuilding. Took it for a spin the other day. Thing is a beauty: new engine, new tires, new paint job…I’ll drive that one. You can take my truck. It’s that one over there.” He pointed to a little white truck that must have been twenty years old. “She’s old but good.”

I looked at my mom and my mom looked at me. “Hand me the keys,” she told Aero.

“They’re going to be looking for the cat,” my mom said. “Hopefully we can get to them before they get to us.”

“Lyle’s heartrate seemed low,” I said.

“He was breathing and Aero’s taking him to the hospital. Right now, I’m going to call the principal and tell him to send the kids home from the dance.” She unlocked her phone and handed it to me. I found the principal’s number in her call history and dialed.

“Hello,” I said when he answered. “This is Briar…Mrs. Gagnon’s daughter. She wanted me to call to tell you now is the time to get all the kids out of the dance and send them straight home.”

“What’s the deal with the cat?” Principal Doofus asked.

“Put him on speaker phone,” mom said.

I did.

“Hello, this is Mrs. Gagnon. I just wanted you to know we have the cat secured and this would be an excellent time to send the kids home.”

“So, it’s safe?” he asked.

“For now. But you need to get them home quickly. I don’t know if the cat’s owners are coming to find it or not. With something like this I imagine a fair amount of money is riding on this experiment and the cat likely has a camera on it besides the one my daughter and her friend attached.”

“I’d not thought of that.”

“As someone who has done a lot of consulting with a lot of different companies, I’d say the likelihood is high.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to go see some old friends.”

“I haven’t been over here in a while,” my mom said as we parked Aero’s truck on the back side of the Edevane factory.

“I thought you’d never even been here.”

“It was one of the first companies I worked for. They hired me before you were born.”

“How did it go?”

“Not well.”

“How are we going to get inside?”

“How did you get inside before?”

“Lyle’s mom’s keycard.”

“But you don’t have that on you this time.”

“No.”

“But I do.”

“What?”

“Lyle had it on him tonight. I took it from him.”

“How?”

“Let’s go inside.”

We disembarked the car and headed up to the gate. My mom put the keycard up to the pad. The gate unlocked and we headed inside towards the building. My mom stepped up to the door and held the keycard up to the keypad.

“I think they’re watching us on surveillance right now,” I said.

“I think you’re right,” my mom replied as the light turned from red to green and we headed inside. We were on the opposite side of the building from where Lyle and I had been last time, which put us closer to the laboratory.

“We’re close to the lab,” I whispered to her.

“Lead on.”

I looked around wondering if that guard who’d chased Lyle and I last time was lurking around. Then I turned left, and my mom followed. We crept up to the laboratory door. My mom put the key card up to the pad and the light turned from red to green.

“We’re in,” my mom said, and we slipped inside.

The factory looked the same as it had when Lyle and I were there before. My mom looked around taking everything in. We heard strange animal sounds coming from the door inside. My mom held the key card up to the pad. The light remained red. She tried again. The light still didn’t change.

“It didn’t work for us either,” I said.

“Sounds like our cat isn’t the only one being experimented on. Even if we can’t get in, we can record the sounds and take pictures of the lab. Get out your phone. I’ll record the sound you take the pictures.”

I took out my phone and began quietly taking pictures of the place while my mom recorded the cries of the cats or whatever was behind the door we couldn’t enter.

“Well, well,” a voice said. “Garnet Gagnon, we meet again.”

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: WORKING: WHAT WE DO ALL DAY (2023)-NETFLIX

When I went through a PATP program and studied acting in New York City, one of our first-year projects was to choose a person and their occupation from the book Working by Studs Terkel and perform a monologue. The assignment was for a speech class and the focus was to learn how to recognize and communicate operative words. Operative words are the most important words in any given sentence and convey the new and most important information. The book is considered a classic work of journalism where the author interviewed numerous people who all had different types of jobs and made different types of income.

This documentary hosted by former President Barack Obama is inspired by Studs Terkel’s book. There are four episodes. The first episode focuses on those working in the lower class. The second focuses on those working in the middle class. The third focuses on the jobs of the nine percenters. The final episode focuses on the top one percent. It’s interesting to watch what each group values, and in some cases how money is precious and sparse where in other cases how money is earned and wasted. Interestingly, the most balanced group seems to be the one shrinking the fastest and that’s the middle class. There is a young man from this group who continues to follow his goals all while dealing with his delusional parents’ blasé ideas of success, which I assume is similar to many Americans’ constant need to cling to the past.

The documentary shows how workplaces used to treat their employees and the abysmal way they treat them now. Most of this is thanks to a man named Milton Friedman. If you think most of the products you purchase these days are overpriced junk and that golden parachutes for CEO’s are ludicrous and damage companies, thank that guy. And it’s not getting any better. Obviously most (not all) of the one percenter group are disconnected from reality. But even sadder are the nine-percenters who waste money aspiring to be in the group above them. Nothing is good about being on or below the poverty line and nothing is good about a shrinking middle class which the documentary points out was at the time it was conceived a radical idea.

Something else the documentary shows is the looming world of artificial intelligence, which in some ways could be a marvelous tool providing more middle-class and nine percenter jobs. But when you meet some of the cavalier upper management, you get the sinking feeling the place runs a good chance of getting renamed Cyberdyne Systems.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the Parti Poodle here to introduce chapter twenty-one of my story Catzilla. As of late my novelist has decided to create what she calls a “panic room” whereupon when she leaves our humble abode, she puts Tucker the Maltese in the bedroom and shuts the door. She grants me free reign except for that blasted panic room. I am limited in my ability to open doors what with having paws instead of hands and no opposable thumbs. I am trying to come up with a way to enter the panic room in another manner so I can break in and torment the horrid mongrel as he deserves. But alas, thus far my novelist has thwarted my efforts. It’s not fair. I deserve the right to boss the little lap dog around when she’s gone but she believes in this horrid thing called civility. You need to play fair, Gigi. You need to be kind to Tucker, Gigi. You need to stop swinging that spiked mace, Gigi. Dreadful. It is horrifically boring wandering around the place with nothing to do. Yes, of course I write but then I get anxious. One can only play so many games of video solitaire before one goes mad. One can only sleep on one’s leather chair so long before one goes mad. One can only drink so much Aquadent laced water before one goes mad. In my mind I hear the call to rough up the Maltese and be satiated. Until then I will keep writing and planning until that glorious day when I breach the panic room and I am allowed to bathe in my glory. But for now, here is chapter twenty-one of Catzilla.  

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-One

The kitten leaned in. Its hot breath singed my cheek. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lyle slip his hand into his pocket.

“Briar!” my mom cried from the distance.

Suddenly, the sound of the forklift rumbled, and Aero drove up to the opposite side of the flatbed. He slid the fork under the kitten’s haunches. The surprised feline’s emerald-green eyes widened, and it turned and swiped one of its alligator-sized paws at him. The paw struck the overhead guard missing Aero but rattling the machine. Aero tried again to slide the forklift under the kitten’s haunches, but the creature swung a mean left causing the forklift to wobble and fall over on its right side. The kitten leaped on top of the fallen machine to examine its prey.

I heard the racing of dog paws scratching across the cement floor rushing towards their owner, their barks echoing against the pole building’s walls. Gavin sprung up and flew like Superman through the air landing on the flatbed with a thump. The kitten whipped around and slashed at its new enemy. The rottweiler sunk its jaws into the kitten’s front leg, shaking its head wildly as if he had just acquired a new chew toy. The kitten caterwauled baring its double set of teeth. Fritz viciously barked at the kitten and leapt up onto the flatbed to join its fellow soldier. It tried to bite the kitten on its large pink nose, but the kitten swatted at it making contact and sending the dog sailing through the air where it landed in the bed of Buckly’s pickup causing the truck to jolt.

I felt Lyle grab my arm and pull me away from the side of the flatbed. As he did, Gavin leaped up and sunk his teeth into the kitten’s throat. The kitten wailed and with its right paw flung Gavin off hurling him into the air. The dog flipped over and over landing on the flatbed on its side. The rottweiler struggled to its feet but fell back down whimpering. The kitten then snatched the fallen dog into its jaws, and bit down. The horrific sound of bones snapping filled the hollow pole building and in an instant the dog’s crushed frame fell, hitting the flatbed and bouncing off onto the cement floor like a bag of wet sand.

Fritz, suddenly aware of his companion’s demise, leapt out of the pickup and charged across the cement floor towards the kitten. He scrambled back onto the flatbed as my mother grabbed my hand and drew me further away from the action.

The kitten caught Fritz in his mouth and was about to crush him as well when the forklift roared to life and Aero somehow situated the lift under the flat making it jolt. The four football players rushed over to assist and began trying to tilt the forklift back into an upright position. The kitten, however, was not on board with this and hurled Fritz at them. Fritz, who was more agile than the kitten expected, managed to flip in the air sailing above the boys and landing on his paws behind the forklift.

“Lyle!” my mom called. “We need to get the dose into its mouth!”

“How?” Lyle replied thinking my mom was nuts.

“If we don’t that cat’s going to kill us all!”

“I don’t want to die, Mrs. Gagnon.”

“I don’t want you to die either, Lyle but we need to make this happen!”

Just then the forklift jolted the flatbed from underneath and the kitten scrambled to regain its balance. This gave Aero, whom the football players managed to tip back into an upright position a one up on the kitten. The football players backed out of the way and Aero was able to slide the forklift under the flatbed at the right level and tilt it enough to cause the kitten to slide off onto the concrete floor. Fritz came plowing up to the kitten barking and snarling. The kitten hissed and swatted its paw, but the dog dodged her and continued to bark and snap at her.

Lyle and my mother snuck behind the kitten. Lyle retrieved a Kraft caramel from his jacket pocket, unwrapped it and smashed my dad’s last pills into it. I ran towards them, but my mother waved me back. Lyle took the lead moving closer and closer to the kitten’s head.

“Mom!” I mouthed silently. My mom shook her head as if to say you can’t stop this and I was overwhelmed with helplessness. I couldn’t just stand there and let Lyle take the risk. He crept around the side of the kitten as Fritz kept barking and charging at it. Lyle inched around closer to the front of the kitten. I could see he was getting ready to toss the caramel into the kitten’s mouth. He pulled his arm back like he was going to send a bowling ball down an alley when Fritz charged at the kitten. Just as Lyle threw the caramel underhand and the confection became airborne, the kitten struck Fritz with her paw causing the dog to go sailing knocking the caramel out of its intended path leaving nothing between Lyle and the kitten. The kitten lurched at Lyle and slapped him with her paw.

I saw where the caramel landed and ran towards it. The kitten scooped Lyle up in its paw. Lyle screamed. I dove for the candy, but Frits ran in front of me knocking me over. I turned and saw the kitten bat Lyle around as if he were a toy. My hands grabbed at the floor trying to pluck up the caramel all the while listening to Lyle’s screams. Fritz dodged at the kitten again but this time he missed me, and I snatched the caramel in my fist and jumped around and yelled, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”

The kitten dropped Lyle on the floor and turned its dark green eyes at me. It leaned in, opened its mouth, and hissed. I tossed the caramel underhand and it sailed into the back of the kitten’s throat. The kitten swallowed the candy as I ran over to Lyle who lay motionless. My mom rushed over and helped pull him away just as the kitten turned in our direction. My mom retrieved her mace from her jacket pocket and sprayed it into the kitten’s eyes. The kitten howled as we struggled to limp back to the truck dragging Lyle with us. The kitten wiped its eyes with the back of its paws, turned and headed after us. But Aero whipped around from the other side of the truck and zoomed up to the kitten putting feline and forklift face to face.

“Get in the trucks!” Aero yelled and the football players scrambled for their pickup.

“All you need are a few minutes before those drugs start kicking in!” my mom yelled.

“Rodger,” Aero yelled back.

With Lyle lying between us in the cabin, I checked his pulse as my mother turned over the engine. I looked out the window and saw Aero and the cat fencing.

The football players revved up the engine of Buckly’s pickup, whipped the truck around and drove towards the kitten. The kitten knocked over the small forklift again and charged at the truck. It jumped onto the hood and swiped at the window.

My mom opened the door and jumped down. She rushed over to the pickup, faced the kitten, and sprayed what was left of her mace into its face. The kitten shrieked, its paws swiping erratically in front of its eyes, losing its balance, and falling off the hood of Buckly’s truck. Aero climbed out of the forklift pointed at it and said, “This is the worst forklift in the world!”

“Let’s get out of here!” Buckly yelled.

Aero ran towards the entrance as Buckly hit the gas. Aero pushed the button, the doors started to rise, and the pickup truck zoomed through. My mom released the brake and drove forwards. As she did the kitten took a flying leap and landed on the flatbed with a thud.

“Mom!”

“How’s Lyle?”

“The kitten!”

“How’s Lyle?”

“He’s not moving.”

“We need to get out fast.” The kitten stood up and plopped its paws on the top of the roof. But my mom was not deterred. She barreled the truck towards the doors. Suddenly, the kitten slumped over on top of the roof. “The drugs are working.” My mom stopped the truck and hit the brake. “Let’s get out.”

“But the kitten.”

“It’ll be sleeping shortly. We need to get Lyle out of here.” Mom and I disembarked. “Aero!” she called. “Help!”

“But…”

“Now!”

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: COLLATERAL (2004)-NETFLIX & PARAMOUNT+

This week’s pick is one of those rare action movies that combines pensive meditations on philosophy with edge of your seat thrills. Smartly penned by Stuart Beattie and well directed by Michael Mann, this summer sleeper originally came out in August of 2004 and packed a wallop.

Max Durocher (Jamie Fox in a wonderful Oscar nominated supporting performance) has a dream: to own his own fleet of Lincoln Town Cars and run a limousine service. But he lives in fear of success and has been stuck in the same nightly taxi driver job for twelve years. One night a beautiful lawyer named Annie Farrell (Jada Pinkett-Smith) gets in his cab. She is on her way to a hotel to prepare for the first day of her recent court case. She and Max argue civilly over what the best and fastest routes to her destination are until she relents, and Max’s route turns out to be the most efficient. The two form a connection and make a trade: Max gives her the postcard of a serene island he keeps on his visor, and she gives him her business card.

Max’s next fare turns out to be a sharp-dressed man in a grey suit named Vincent (Tom Cruise in a tour de force performance) who at first seems polite and professional but quickly reveals himself to be something more sinister. Vincent offers Max $700 to be his only passenger for the night, which involves making rounds to five different locations to carry out his assignments all while providing Max with unconventional advice about life.

The movie was also nominated for Best Achievement in Editing for Jim Miller and Paul Rubell. Mark Ruffalo, Peter Berg, and Javier Bardem round out the film’s fantastic cast.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twenty of my story Catzilla. The Maltese has been driving me mad. Long ago my novelist taught him to speak. This may have been one of her worst decisions to date. Lately he’s been barking more than usual. He likes to hear his own woof. It is most annoying. I wish he would quiet down but he’s having such fun driving the rest of us insane. When my novelist talks too much, I simply put my paw on her mouth to stop the infernal noise. She has the sense to cease talking. The Maltese, on the other hand, does not. But I have come up with a plan. As much as he likes to bark, he likes to sleep and so, I have located an old pocket recorder which I turn on when he barks so I can tape him. Tonight, after he has fallen asleep, I am going to give him a taste of his own torment. I’m going to place the recorder right by his bed near his ear. Take that, wretched mongrel! See how you like being awoken from your precious slumber by the sound of infernal barking! And with that thought, here is chapter twenty of Catzilla.  

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty

Lyle and I hopped in the cabin of the flatbed and my mom slowly backed out. As she did the kitten’s paws dragged along the asphalt.

“Mom, this isn’t going to work,” I said.

My mom looked in the rearview mirror and nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “We need to reposition the cat.”

“We could rope its paws to the top of the truck,” Lyle said.

“We’re going to need those football players to help us,” my mom said and shut off the engine, opened the door, and climbed out of the cabin. She ran out and waved down the pickup truck Buckly was driving.

Buckley rolled down the window and asked, “What’s the matter, Mrs. Gagnon?”

“We can’t drive away with the cat’s front paws dragging along the road.”

“That thing’s a killer. Who cares what happens to its paws?”

“You have a point, Buckly. But it’s inhumane. We need to tie the cat’s paws up and take a chance on restoring it to its normal size. I need you four boys to help us do this before it wakes up.”

“What are we going to use?”

“There’s rope in the cabin. It should be enough for you guys to pull it off.”

Buckley rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get it done.”

He shut off the engine and the other three football players reluctantly climbed out of the pickup. Mom opened the door of the flatbed and handed them the rope.

“If this thing wakes up,” Silas said, “all bets are off.”

“Agreed,” my mom said. Then she sided up to the driver’s side window. “Lyle, come out here. I need you to watch the cat while the boys tie her paws.”

“Yes, Mrs. Gagnon,” Lyle said.

Lyle disembarked the truck, and I watched in the rear-view mirror as he walked over and stood in front of the cat, studying it intensely. My mom climbed back inside and shut the door. The four football players climbed onto the flatbed, and secured the ropes to hooks on the roof of the cabin. Then Silas and Toby got on either side of the kitten’s right paw and attempted to lift it as if it were a big furry alligator. They made a loop with the rope, slipped the paw through, anchored it, and cinched it allowing the paw to hang out like a diving board.

Buckly and the fourth football player whose name was Devin, passed by the kitten’s upside-down head, secured their rope to the roof of the cabin, made a loop and were just about to stick the left paw through it when Lyle said, “Hold it.” The four football players looked to find the kitten had opened its eyes and was staring at Lyle.

“Mom,” I whispered as I was looking through the window at the back of the cabin. “I think the kitten’s regaining consciousness.”

My mom looked at the cat and whispered back, “It’s probably still under.”

Then I heard a distorted version of that unmistakable hiss. “Lyle needs help.”

My mom heard it too. She disembarked the truck and hurried over beside Lyle. She whispered something to him. Lyle took a step towards the kitten, and I craned my neck to see what it was, but I was unable to get a good look. The hissing became erratic, then softer, and then tapered off. I watched as Buckley and Devon threaded the kitten’s left paw through the looped rope, anchored it, and cinched it. Lyle hurried in front of the truck and climbed back inside the cabin next to me.

“Buckle up,” my mom said. “We’re heading to Steeling Cars Auto Maintenance.”

My mom pulled up beside the Steeling Cars Auto Maintenance sign while Buckly and the other football players pulled up behind her. “Stay here,” she told Lyle and I before disembarking the truck. She headed up to the entrance of the garage and banged on the door. “Mr. McQuoid! Mr. McQuoid!”

A guy in grey greasy overalls rounded the corner wiping his hands on a dirty towel. He looked at my mother and said, “I take it you’re the lady from the school dance with the toolshed sized cat.”

“That’s correct.”

“Wow,” Aero McQuoid said walking up to the side of the flatbed where the sleeping kitten lay sprawled with its paws tied to the top of the truck and its head turned upside down. “It looks dead.”

“No, it’s breathing.”

Aero took a closer look, “You’re right it is. So, you want to cage up this thing in the pole building over there, huh?”

My mom looked in the direction his oil-stained finger was pointing. “Yes. I think that will work splendidly.”

“So how do you want to do this?”

“I was hoping to drive the truck in and have the boys in the pickup behind me untie the cat and help slide it onto the floor and get out.”

“Uh, huh. How long do you think that thing will stay passed out?”

“Difficult to say. I gave her a solid dose and a backup but with a cat that large its hard telling when it will wear off.”

“Well, I don’t want to be around when that thing wakes up. I’ll go open the doors for you and you can drive in.”

Aero strolled towards the pole building and mom motioned for Buckly and the other football players to follow her. She hopped back into the cabin and drove up to the pole building entrance. Aero pushed in a code on the side of the building and the large door began to rise. As it did two oversized rottweilers trotted out and sat down in front of the building on either side of the entrance as if they were stone lions. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Buckly get out of the pickup. As soon as he did, the rottweilers began growling and baring their teeth. They rose to their paws ready to pounce.

“Fritz, Gavin!” Aero snapped. “Sit!”

The two dogs begrudgingly sat back down on their haunches. But their eyes never left Buckly. I watched Buckly slowly get back into the pickup and follow my mother as she drove the flatbed into the pole building. She shut off the engine, rolled down her window and asked, “How are we supposed to unload this cat with your two guard dogs sitting there ready to pounce?”

“Fritz and Gavin?”

“Yes, Fritz and Gavin.”

“I’ll have them stand outside the door and guard the place. They’re well trained.”

“You’re sure they won’t attack?”

“Totally.”

Mom looked skeptically at the two rottweilers.

“I don’t trust your dogs, man,” Buckly called from the pickup.

“Kid, I just told the lady here they won’t attack.”

“They growled at me.”

“They’re excellent judges of character.”

“I’ll get out first, Buckly,” my mom said. She opened the truck door. The two rottweilers studied her but remained seated. My mom motioned for Buckly and the other three football players to come over. She stuck her head back in the window and said, “We’re going to need your help too.”

Lyle and I got out of the truck and walked around to the side where the football players were standing.

“We’re going to slide it off the flatbed,” my mom said.

“How?” Devin asked.

“Mr. McQuoid has a forklift over there which will make things easier. You boys will untie the ropes. Mr. McQuoid will slide the forklift under the cat. Briar will watch to make sure the cat does not wake up. Lyle will deal with the cat if it wakes up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lyle knows what it means and that’s what matters. Now, let’s get started.”

Buckly, Devon, Silas, and Toby all climbed up on the flatbed. The kitten let out a huge snore and all four boys jumped back.

“Easy,” my mom said.

Silas and Toby got on either side of the kitten’s right paw. Buckly and Devon carefully unhitched the rope as Silas and Toby carefully loosened the loop and slipped it off the kitten’s paw. Silas and Toby moved over to the kitten’s left paw as Buckly and Devon loosened the remaining ropes from the top of the truck’s cabin. Silas and Toby slowly lowered the paw down.

Mr. McQuoid started driving the forklift over to the cat. “Alright, boys,” he told the football players. “I’m going to take it from here.”

Aero drove the forklift around to the back of the truck. He lifted the fork to meet the height of the kitten. Lyle and I, our eyes still on the kitten’s face, took a step back as Aero began to side the fork under the feline’s underbelly. The kitten began to rise. My mother put the truck into neutral and began to slowly roll it forwards. The kitten suspended in the air slumped over the front of the fork so Lyle and I could no longer see its face. Aero shifted gears and began to lower the kitten to the ground.

Suddenly, Lyle grabbed my arm. Then I saw the cat lift its head and bore its emerald-green eyes into ours. It hissed like a giant cobra and swatted its paw causing it to slip forwards on the forklift. Whump! It landed on its feet hissing loudly staring Lyle and I down.

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: RESERVOIR DOGS (1992)-NETFLIX

It occurs to me sometimes that I assume everyone has seen a lot of great films. And that may not be so. Especially with the saturation of superhero movies and the peculiar idea that said films have depth, are art, and are not just overhyped entertainment. But for the most part they don’t have depth, are anything but art, and are primarily designed for franchising and merchandising. And so, this week I thought I would recommend a film that everyone should see, has truly great writing and direction, and says something more profound about the human condition.

Quintin Tarantino films tend to have two basic elements. One is they are about honor. Two is they are about logic. This is a film that pits one against the other in a brilliant exploration of honor amongst thieves. The story on the surface is basic: a jewelry store robbery has gone wrong. The post robbery meeting place is a warehouse. After the botched job those who didn’t get killed show up to figure out if they’ve been set up and if so by whom. But at its core it’s about each character’s vantage point, their personal values, and how those two elements determine if they will survive.

Six criminals are hired by a father and son. The father is Joe Cabot (Lawrence Tierney) the son goes by the name Nice Guy Eddie (Chris Penn). The thugs they hire know nothing about each other and are given fake names by Joe. The aged veteran is Mr. White (Harvey Keitel), the resident psychopath is Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen) the rookie is Mr. Orange (Tim Roth), the man on the brink of retirement is Mr. Blue (Edward Bunker), the conspiracy theorist is Mr. Brown (Quintin Tarantino himself), and the cynic is Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi).

After an unplanned shootout occurs at the jewelry store, police show up and civilians and two of the criminals are killed. Two of the survivors arrive at the warehouse first. One of them has been shot in the stomach and is in dire need of medical care. A third criminal shows up with the bag of diamonds and a fourth shows up with a surprise in his trunk. The men debate as to if they have been set up, if there is a mole amongst them, if the rendezvous location is safe, and if Joe and Nice Guy Eddy are coming or if they are waiting for Godot. The story is told in the present and well-designed flashbacks which give us insight into who each of these men are and all the performances are first rate. This is a must-see piece of masterful modern filmmaking.