Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to bring you chapter four of my new story Catzilla. This week was glorious because I was finally able to go to the groomers and be properly shorn. I behaved very well throughout the whole experience. The groomer even said so. I went from a mangy mini sheep dog to a chic stylish toy poodle. Look at my before and after pictures:

I am just like a fairytale Cinderella. Am I not the most gorgeous Canis Lupis Familiars you have every laid your humble eyes upon? Now I am ready for the rest of this glorious spring and the bright and beautiful summer ahead. And now without further ado, here is chapter four of Catzilla. Meow!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Four

After Ellery scared the cat away, I gave up and went back inside. I decided it must have gone home to its owner.

“I suppose that’s just as well,” My mother said. But I detected a note of wariness in her voice.

That night I went to bed and put on my meditation audio which helps me fall asleep. It was made by a guy from Australia or maybe New Zealand. They work like a charm every time and I drifted off. It must have been around one in the morning when I heard caterwauling. Remarkably loud caterwauling echoing through the neighborhood. I sat up in bed, rubbed my eyes, and went to the window. Across the street, under the same lamppost was the kitten. It stopped making noise and stared straight at me. I rolled my eyes and went back to bed.

This, of course, did not appease the kitten. As soon as I shut my eyes it started caterwauling all over again. I got up, threw on my forest green terrycloth robe slid my feet into my fuzzy orange Ugg indoor/outdoor slippers and headed down to the garage. I put on my dad’s big puffy pewter gray gloves to make sure my hands were protected, grabbed Harlow’s crate, opened the garage door, and stepped out onto the driveway. The kitten saw me and stopped making noise. I approached with caution. It watched my every move.

When I reached the other side, I knelt about a yard to its right side and slowly opened the door to the crate. The kitten turned towards me, adjusted itself and sat on its haunches. We stayed there staring at each other. But after a few minutes, exhaustion caught up with me. I rose and carried the crate closer to the kitten. As soon as I did, the kitten scurried across the street and stopped in our driveway as if it were waiting for me, its green eyes sparkling in the porchlight.

I looked both ways and headed back to my driveway. I went towards the kitten and stopped a yard from its left side, squatted down and opened the crate’s door. The cat seemed bored with this would-be game and proceeded to lick its paw. I crept closer, reached out my gloved hand, and…

Suddenly, the kitten turned towards me and hissed the most satanic hiss I’d ever heard. Its green eyes turned pure black, and its large, oversized ears flattened as if they were wings on a stealth fighter. I inched back a couple yards and the cat calmly returned to its normal self, continuing to groom its paws.

Well, forget that! I closed the crate door and opened the garage door. The kitten caterwauled again.

“Not a chance,” I snapped. I started to step inside when I felt the kitten circling my legs, brushing up against them as closely as possible. It was getting fur all over my pajamas. This was not going to bode well for my mother. I would have to go over them with a lint brush, toss them in the hamper and change before I crawled back into bed. My instincts told me I probably shouldn’t let this cat into the garage much less the house.

I, however, didn’t get to make the decision because the kitten sauntered into the garage uninvited. She saw my old crib mattress tilted against the wall. She scratched her paw in the air at it as if to tell me to pull it down so she could lie on it. I sighed, entered the garage, and set Harlow’s crate on top of the freezer. I removed the blanket from the crate, knocked the mattress onto the floor, unfurled the blanket and spread it on top. The kitten scrutinized the arrangement with its emerald eyes and was satisfied with it. She stepped on, curled up in a ball and purred.

“Yeah, make yourself at home,” I told her. Then I shut off the garage light and went back to bed.

My mom woke me up at 6:45 AM. “Time to go to school,” she told me.

I blinked my heavy eyelids and attempted to bring the world into focus. The sun was already out which was better than the dank predawn I experienced earlier this semester. After dressing, I headed into the kitchen. My mom had made me a fruit plate. I sat down at the table and said, “I caught the kitten last night.”

“Last night?” my mom exclaimed. “What time last night?”

“Between one and two.”

“One or two in the morning?”

“Didn’t you hear it caterwauling?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was caterwauling at the top of its lungs. It woke me up.”

“You should have let it go on howling. It would have eventually stopped.”

“What if a racoon caught it?”

“There’s tweekers in this neighborhood who break into cars. What if they’d seen you and tried to hurt you?”

“No one was out there. The kitten could have been attacked by a coyote.”

“Where is it now?”

“In the garage curled up on my old crib mattress.”

“I guess that’s just as well. But I never want you getting up and wandering around at night like that again.”

“I was going to give it food and water before we left.”

“Go do that then brush your teeth, wash your face and comb your hair or you’re going to be late.”

“Alright.” I finished my fruit plate, took a last sip of my tea, and got out a couple of Harlow’s steel bowls. I filled one with water and the other with one of her fancy pâtés and headed to the garage.

When I stepped inside, I noticed the light was on. I thought about this for a second, certain I’d turned it off before I went back to bed. I looked over at the mattress. The kitten sat calmly licking its paws. I stepped towards it, and it turned its head and looked at me.

“I brought you breakfast,” I said before walking over and setting the bowl of water in front of the kitten. The kitten looked at it then back at me expecting more. I walked back to the freezer, grabbed the bowl of food, and set it down in front of the finicky feline. “Bon Appetit.”   

The kitten wolfed down the food sat back on its haunches and stared at me. I stared back. I wasn’t exactly comfortable about heading off to school and leaving it in the garage to its own devices. 

As I headed out to the car, I alerted my mom of my concern.

“We’re just going to let her stay in there until you get home from school. Then we’ll run her over to the vet and see if she’d microchipped. Then we can go about getting her back to her owner.”

“What if she doesn’t have a chip?”

“Then we’ll take pictures of her, print them out and post them around the neighborhood with my phone number. Then we’ll go onto the neighborhood web site and post that we found a kitten.”

“What if no one ever claims her?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

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: BETTER OFF DEAD (1981)-PLUTO TV

I thought it would be fun over the next couple of weeks to feature a few 80’s sleepers that are in no way shape or form politically correct but gleefully fun to watch just the same. The first one is a terrific satire on 80’s teenage angst called Better Off Dead. The film was John Cusack’s fifth major motion picture, and he is terrific playing Lane Meyer, a likeable middleclass teenage boy. His girlfriend Beth (Amanda Wyss) whom he is obsessed with is less than obsessed with him. When Lane tries out for the high school ski team, she dumps him for the arrogant ski team captain Roy (Aaron Dozier). Destroyed by the rejection and his failing to make the ski team, Lane tries several hilarious ways to attempt suicide. But his drug addled best friend Charles De Mar (the always hilarious Curtis Armstrong) encourages him to carry on with life and fight for a spot on the ski team. Also on his side is plucky French exchange student Monique Junot (Dianne Franklin) who is trapped in the creepy Smith residence next door where Mrs. Smith (Laura Waterbury) strongly encourages her to date her creepy son Ricky (Dan Schneider). Rounding out the cast are David Ogdon Stiers of MASH fame as Lane’s father Al Meyer, and Kim Darby, the original Mattie Rose from True Grit as Jenny Meyer as Lane’s goofy mother.     

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to bring you chapter three of my new story Catzilla. We are bracing for a heatwave. So far, the weather has been most pleasant, but a heat warning has been issued and the temperatures are set to rise. What’s worse is my grooming, which I usually detest, is not till next week. I am sporting far more hair than I should right now. I look more like a sheepdog than a poodle. My novelist purchased a couple cooling vests on sale a year ago, one for myself and one for that dreaded Maltese. They do work, but essentially it is like having a sopping wet towel draped over you. It gives one an odd feeling. I think I’d rather sit by a fan, partaking of a peanut butter and fruit freezie, sporting a new haircut and planning ways to take over the neighborhood.

One must never take overtaking one’s neighborhood lightly. I would have to enlist some muscles, perhaps a couple of rottweilers. Then I’d need infiltrators. Those two dachshunds might do nicely. I would need a couple of bureaucrats to keep things organized. Perhaps those two fluffy cats that always park themselves on that opulent climbing apparatus. I’d also need propogandists to push my cause. I think that little terrier that looks like the RCA dog might spread the news well. And I’d need headquarters. Maybe I could get those brown bunnies that hop all around the place to show me the best hideouts. This taking over the neighborhood thing is shaping up quite nicely. I’d better get to work. In the meantime, here is chapter three of Catzilla. Long live Gigi!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Three

I walked home from detention in the spring sunshine. It was around four-thirty and the traffic had picked up. I had to wait a little longer at the corners to cross the street. Then I headed down the hill, past the small park and turned left into my neighborhood. As I did, I saw something scurry behind one of the houses. I stopped and saw it again: a glimpse of something amber or reddish brown. It jumped up, scampered along the fence line between two houses and towards the backyards. I stayed on the sidewalk waiting to see it again.

I heard a rustle and looked towards the sound. That’s when I saw Lyle. Lyle is a boy I go to school with whom no one likes. He lives in the second smallest house in the neighborhood. Lyle always eats lunch alone. I’ve seen him sit on one of the benches with his nylon Costco lunchbox. He never buys his meals from the cafeteria. From a distance you wouldn’t think he was an outcast. He wears a zip hoodie, jeans, and a t-shirt just like most of the boys.

I think what the other kids don’t like about Lyle is he’s smart. He knows the answers to all the teachers’ questions. I know the answers to all the teachers’ questions too, but for one reason or another it really grates on the other kids’ nerves that he’s smarter than they are.

My dad once told me there was a man named Dietrich Bonhoeffer who said, “Stupidity is a more dangerous enemy of the good than malice.” My mother agreed. I think the kids who don’t like Lyle are stupid and it scares me. My mom went into a nasty rant the day they announced they were removing words like “stupid” and “idiot” out of books by a famous children’s writer. She said it was like pouring poison over school classrooms and setting it on fire. “The first thing schools take away to save money is the gifted program,” she said. “The truth is schools punish the best and the brightest. It’s imperative that words like “stupid” and “idiot” are left in children’s books so that the smart kids have a word for the thick-headed numskulls who stand in their way.” And that’s all my mom had to say about that. 

Anyway, I saw Lyle outside his house. He was batting around a tetherball he’d set up in the front yard. He was playing by himself. I watched him for a moment before I mustered up the courage to go over and say hello.

“Hi, Lyle,” I said when I reached his driveway.

Lyle didn’t look at me at first. I think he was trying to be cool which he sucked at. “Hi,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Practicing tetherball.”

“Why?”

“My dad said it might help me make friends.”

“But there aren’t any tetherball poles at the high school.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between us. Lyle stood there holding the tetherball in his hand as I watched a bug crawl on a wilted flower.

“I used to play tetherball in grade school,” I finally said trying to recover the conversation. “But they didn’t have any tetherball poles in middle school, so I stopped playing.”

“What do you do now?”

“I take an early morning badminton class. My mom talked me into it, but I like it.”

“What do you do after school?”

“Homework. And I draw. Lately I’ve been drawing cats.”

“Cats?”

“Yes. I draw other things too.”

“Do you draw people?”

“No, not often. What do you like to do besides play tetherball?”

“Work math problems.”

“Math problems?”

“Yeah. But my dad says I need to find another hobby besides math.”

“Like what?”

“Well…I built a tracking device…from scratch.”

“Wow. Does it work?”

“I think so. I haven’t tried it yet.”

“What do you think you’d try it on?”

“I haven’t decided.”

I saw something amber-colored out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and it looked at me. Now I could tell it was a kitten. A rich, amber-colored kitten with large wide ears and intense green eyes. It sat on its hind legs and stared at me. It was scrawnier than I first thought, somewhat malnourished and hungry. “Is that your kitten?”

Lyle turned and studied the small feline. “No. I’ve never seen it before. It doesn’t have a collar or tags either.”

The kitten yawned, closed its eyes, and stretched its paws out long.

“She’s cute,” he said.

“Well, I need to get home. My mom will wonder where I am.”

“Okay…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He said this with a note of hopefulness.

“See you tomorrow, Lyle.”

As I walked away, I considered Lyle’s tracking device. Who sits around engineering a tracking device and working math problems for fun?

When I got home my mom was in her office as usual. She opened the door and asked me, “How was detention?

“I had to sit next to Quincy.”

“Who’s Quincy?”

“Someone I never want to meet again.”

“The truth is, Briar, you’re going to meet a lot of people in this life you never want to meet again. In fact, most of the people you meet in this life you’ll never want to meet again. It’s a miracle to come across someone you like.”

“That’s grim, mom.”

“Grim but true.”

I walked over to the window and looked outside. Something moved under the streetlamp. “Are dad’s binoculars in here somewhere?”

“They’re in the top drawer of the small wood cabinet.”

I opened the cabinet drawer and found dad’s compact binoculars. I took them out, removed them from their pleather case and headed back to the window. There was the kitten sitting there licking its paw, its auburn fur shining in the sunlight.

“What are you looking at?” mom asked.

“A kitten. I saw it prowling around the neighborhood when I was walking home.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors just got it.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t have a collar or tags.”

“Why don’t you go and see if you can get it to come to you. We could drive it to the vet to see if its microchipped.”

“What if it doesn’t want to come to me?”

“It’s still worth a try. We could put it in Harlow’s old dog crate.”

“We’d have to keep it in the garage because of your asthma.”

“Or we could put it in the small bathroom with a pillow, a blanket and food and water. Put Harlow in here with me before you go, so we can keep her and the kitten from fighting.”

“What if they’re just curious about each other?”

“I’d rather make sure they don’t fight.”

I headed to the garage to retrieve the crate. Harlow never liked it. Whenever we put her inside, she’d chew on the bars. I wasn’t jazzed about the whole catch the kitten and put it in the crate idea. What if she scratched me? What if she bit me? I saw my dad’s gloves sitting on the shelf above the deep freeze. They were oversized and puffy like boxing gloves. I put them on, studied the gunmetal gray color and decided I was ready for battle.

I pushed the button on the garage door opener and stepped outside. I stood there gripping the handle of the dog crate. The kitten was still sitting under the streetlight. I moved stealthily towards my target. I was just about to cross the street when Ellery came barreling down the road on his brand-new fat tire electric bike. He stopped right between the kitten and me.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I glared at him and said nothing.

“You mute or something?”

I didn’t want to draw Ellery’s attention to the kitten. He might use it for some bizzarro cult ceremony.

“Why are you wearing boxing gloves and carrying a cat crate?”

“It’s not a cat crate. It’s a dog crate.”

“It’s too small for a dog.”

“Our dog is a Yorkshire Terrier. It weighs six pounds.”

“That’s not a dog, that’s a hamster. Maybe you should get it one of those wheels to run on.”

“I’m busy. What do you want?”

“You want to go out sometime?”

He had to be kidding. “No.”

Ellery leaned back on his bike and studied me. “Why not?”

“I don’t date reptiles.”

“You should be grateful I asked you out.”

“I’m grateful I’m not going.”

“You better watch it. I’ll do more than circulate rumors about you.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I like you; you know. You should like me back. I’m loaded. And I have a swank bike.”

“You can leave any time.”

Ellery narrowed his eyes. He gave me an obscene gesture then rode off.

After he left, I looked across the street. The kitten was nowhere to be found.

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: MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS (2022)-AMAZON PRIME

This week’s pick is a genuinely delightful comedy/drama about a common cleaning lady who proves to be anything but common. It is based on the novel Mrs. ‘arris Goes to Paris by Paul Gallico. The story was made into a TV movie with the name of the novel as the title starring Angela Lansbury, Omar Sharif, and Dame Dianna Rigg. While cleaning the boudoir of one of her less than kind employers Lady Dant (Anna Chancellor), Ada Harris (charmingly played by Golden Globe Nominee Lesley Manville) finds a gorgeous Christian Dior gown. Ada has spent her life living with disappointment, most recently finding out her husband Eddie died in WWII. With no family and no prospects, she decides to save up enough money to purchase a genuine Christian Dior dress of her very own. As soon as she makes up her mind to do so and starts keeping a ledger of the money she’s spending and saving, the tide turns.

She receives a widow’s pension that the military owes her backpay on, she finds an expensive ring which she turns into the police station and receives reward money for, and with the help of her friend Archie (Jason Isaacs) she wins a sizable sum of money from the racetrack. Finally, well-financed Ada gets on a plane and heads for Paris. But she soon finds out that money is not always enough to get into a fashion house and buy the dress of your dreams.  

Jenny Beaven was nominated for an Oscar for her gorgeous costumes in which she studied Dior’s original sketchbooks, workbooks, and patterns to recreate the gorgeous dresses used in the movie. Rounding out the cast is Ellen Thomas as Ada’s friend Violette Butterfield, Lucus Bravo as Dior financial adviser André Fauvel, Alba Baptista as fashion model Natasha, Lambert Wilson as Marquis de Chassagne, and Isabella Hubert as Claudine Colbert. If you ever get a chance, watch Hubert in Hal Hartley’s fantastic film Amateur which, like many great small films, is impossible to find on any of the streamers.

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, I’m like going to pass out.”

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

“No, I’m like hung over.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

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

“What now, Quincy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you in here?” I asked.

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

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

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

“No,” he said defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that your cat?” he asked.

“No,” I said quietly and continued sketching.

“Whose cat is it?”

“No one’s.”

“Why are you drawing it?”

“I want to.”

“Give me the picture.”

“No.”

“Give it to me.”

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

“Briar’s drawing bestiality pictures.”

“What?” I said stunned.

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

“The whole class?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“Where did you get the idea from?”

“I had a dream about a cat.”

“What breed of cat?”

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

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

“It has fur.”

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

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

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

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: BEEF (2023)-NETFLIX

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

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

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

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here with the first chapter of my new story Catzilla. It always feels refreshing to begin a new story. It gives me the boost I need to conquer the world. This time I will be stepping across the animal line and writing about the Felis catus. The concept came to me on one of my walks where I challenged myself to come up with a concept for a new story before the walk ended and today, I will begin displaying the result. Why the Felis catus you may ask. Well, on my walk I pass some of these domesticated creatures in their natural habitat. One window contains a fuzzy apparatus in which two fluffy variants perch on separate circular surfaces. If I decide to go a different direction, I may see a dark striped one walking upon a fence. Sometimes the blasted things are loose and roaming about looking for someone to brush up against. A bit forward in my opinion. Nevertheless, these creatures seemed to pique my curiosity and I had them wandering around in my mind for a while. And so, I thought I would bring one to life in one of my tails. See, how I spelled it there? Tails. Aren’t I clever? And so, without further ado I present to you chapter one of Catzilla. Meow!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter One

The first thing you need to know about me is my mother is allergic to cats. The second thing is my dad is gone. He didn’t die or abandon us. He’s just not here and we don’t know when he’s coming back. The third thing is I’m a high school student who works as a busser on the weekends at the Kitten Coral Café.

Don’t let anyone tell you restaurants are a cool place to work. They’re not. They’re dirty and stressful and full of freaks you must survive with to get through a shift. Working in a kitchen is like going to war. Usually no one gets killed but sometimes there’s wounded.

Like this waitress who cut her finger slicing bread. See, they couldn’t find the serrated bread knife, so they set out this lousy third-rate chef’s knife and when she was slicing the bread, she looked up for a second and her finger got sliced. She ran to the sink and ran cold water over the wound as she yelled for help.

Finally, the manager and head chef came over and helped bandage her up before the manager drove her to the emergency room. I know you can make a lot more money as a waitress instead of a busser, but I’ve got to tell you I’m glad I wasn’t the one cutting bread with a third-rate Chef’s knife.

Anyway, I’m sixteen and in all the AP classes. AP stands for Advanced Placement. That doesn’t mean all the students in my classes have class. Especially Ellery. He’s a piece. Sits in my section. Makes weird noises. In biology all he talks about are the private parts of the animals we dissect. He can shut up about it any time. Anyway, Ellery really got on my nerves today. He said he was going to tell everyone I stole parts of the dissected frogs and kept them in a jar in my bedroom. I told him to kiss my ass. He grabbed it, and I palm heeled him in the face.

This got me a visit to the principal’s office where I tried to explain I was defending myself. The principal, however, didn’t see things my way. You see Ellery’s parents own a factory just outside of town. And a lot of people who live in town work there. Including Mrs. Principal who’s a bookkeeper.

My mother is a consultant, which means she organizes things for companies when they need to bring in a strong outside contractor. Presently, she’s unemployed. And terrifyingly frugal. We live in the smallest house in the nicest neighborhood in our town. Guess what that means? Ellery lives in my neighborhood too. He owns two fluffy felines that sit in his parents’ huge picture window and tyrannize the streets. We on the other hand own a peppy Yorkshire Terrier named Harlow. She was the runt of the litter. She’s very cute and very smart and very brave. She’s also hypoallergenic which was a deciding factor for my mom. Harlow sleeps on my bed at night and cuddles up against me because she gets cold easily. 

So, I came home from work today which is Friday, and I told my mom, “I hate my job. I was not cut out to be a busser.”

“No, you weren’t,” she says bluntly as she sits at her desk working. She’s always sitting at her desk working.

“I got busted at school today for sticking up for myself.”

“What did you do?”

“You know Ellery?”

“I know Ellery.”

“Ellery said I kept frog parts in my bedroom and threatened to tell the whole school, which he did, and now everyone believes this rotten lie.”

“And how did you stand up for yourself?”

“I palm heeled him in the face.”

“You shouldn’t have physical altercations with your classmates.”

“And he pinched my butt.”

“He did what?”

“He started the physical altercation by pinching my butt. I merely finished it.”

“Then what happened?”

“I got sent to the principal’s office and he walked off scot-free.”

The school had already sent my mother an email about Ellery and my altercation. And a phone message. I guess most mothers would be upset about such a matter. My mother was only vaguely irritated. And the only reason I knew she was vaguely irritated is because she was tapping her fingers on the table. Outsiders would have thought she was completely stoic about the whole thing but when I saw her fingers tapping, I knew she was thinking.

We were to be in the office before school to have a meeting about the matter. That’s when schools like to have their meetings: at dawn. Like an execution. That night my mother shut her office door. She only came into my room to wish me goodnight. She told me she was preparing for war. This was no joke.

At seven o’clock the next morning my mother drove us to the school, parked the car and we headed for the entrance. She wore a blazer and a blouse and a knee length skirt. She meant business. She pushed the outside button and said, “I’m Briar’s mother. We’re here for a meeting with the principal.”

“Oh, yes,” the secretary said. “I’ll buzz you right in.”

My heart was beating fast. I did not want to be here and was missing my early morning badminton class. This was a bad thing because badminton is my way of relieving stress. The principal stood there in his tweed blazer and navy-blue t-shirt. He looked like a doofus. I call him Principal Peter Doofus. Peter is his real first name. Doofus is just what I call him.

“Good morning, Briar,” he said in an oddly cheery voice. “Mrs. Gagnon, thank you for coming in.”

“Of course,” my mother replied.

We followed him around the corner and into the meeting room. Seated around the big oval table were Principal Doofus’s secretary Miss Strumpet, my biology teacher Ms. Rufus and of course Ellery and his mom and dad. Ellery’s father had so much pomade in his slicked-back hair if I struck a match, it would have ignited like a gasoline tank. Ellery’s mother glared at me with her large dark eyes as if I’d thrown Ellery down a well and Lassie refused to go for help.

Anyway, we all sat down at the oval table as Principal Doofus straightened his jacket and said, “Good morning. Would anyone care for some coffee or tea?”

“Coffee black,” Ellery’s father said, “for my wife and I.”

Black like their souls.

“How about you?” the principal asked my mother.

“No, thank you,” she replied.

My mother has a strict rule she follows and insists her daughter follow which is never take an open beverage from anyone.

“Two black coffees it is,” Principal Doofus said before sitting down at the end of the oval table. This, of course, is code for Miss Strumpet to go fetch the coffees. I think Miss Strumpet and Principal Doofus are meeting at a cheap motel after school. In fact, I think they probably came from one this morning.

Miss Strumpet fetched the coffees, brought them back, and set them in front of Ellery’s parents.

“The reason we’re here today,” Doofus said, “is because there was an altercation between Briar and Ellery.”

“Yeah,” Ellery said. “She hit me.”

“Assaulted you,” his mother corrected. “That girl assaulted you.”

“You grabbed my ass,” I snapped at Ellery who grinned.

My mother signaled me to calm down. But I seethed. I wanted to palm heel Ellery’s face again.

“Girls,” Ellery’s mother said with contempt. “They’re always flirting with my son.”

“I never flirted with your son,” I said. “He looks like a salamander.”

“The point is,” Principal Doofus said, “Briar palm heeled Ellery in the face, and we cannot have that kind of behavior in our high school.”

“As Briar pointed out to you,” my mother said, “Ellery initially pinched her derriere which means Ellery committed the first physical violation. And I have taught my daughter never to strike first and to avoid physical confrontation unless she is aggressed upon.”

“She was probably flirting with my son and instigated it,” Ellery’s mother said.

“I never flirted with your son,” I repeated. “He looks like a salamander.”

“You deny it now because you got caught.”

“She says it now,” my mother said, “to underline the point she is not interested in your sexually aggressive son.”

“My son is not sexually aggressive.”

“And for the record I agree with the salamander comparison.”

“Your daughter looks like a plain little bookworm,” Ellery’s father says.

“My daughter is a bookworm. The point is each of them crossed the line and each of them should face the consequences.”

My mother was right of course. But again, Principal Doofus’s wife works as a bookkeeper for Ellery’s parents.

“Well,” Principal Doofus said, “Briar striking Ellery is a bit more violent than Ellery pinching Briar’s…derriere.”

“People have been fired for less than what Ellery did. The fair thing to do is have both kids serve detention and then the matter is settled.”

“What if your daughter tries to get my son pregnant?” Ellery’s mother said.

My mother turned to her with a death stare. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m more concerned you may not know what you mean. And for that matter it takes two to cause a pregnancy.”

“In some cases, three,” I said. “When science is involved.”

My mother turned and gave me a quit-while-you’re-ahead look. Then she continued. “The point is my daughter has no interest in your son. And they have absolutely nothing in common. I am generally not fond of punishment unless it brings about a change. Be that as it may, I believe both should apologize to each other and serve detention and end the matter there.

Ellery’s father who had been glaring at my mother for most of the meeting turned to Principal Doofus and said, “Will this go on our son’s permanent record?”

Professor Doofus cleared his throat and said, “Well, everything goes on a student’s permanent record these days. But I assure you it won’t stand in the way of Ellery going to a fine university.”

Ellery’s father leaned in a little closer. “See that it doesn’t.”

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: WILD (2014)-HBO MAX

This week’s pick is a fantastic little film based on the memoir of the same name. It is the story of Cheryl Strayed (Reese Witherspoon in a well-deserved Oscar nominated performance) who after a death in the family, drug and sex issues, and a failed marriage to Paul (Thomas Sadoski) decides to cope with her grief by embarking on a solo 1100 mile walk on the Pacific Crest Trail. Cheryl is haunted by disturbing memories of her past including her abusive father whom she, her brother Leif (Keene McRae) and her mother had to flee from. She has tried to cope with the tragedy in her life by embarking on a slew of one-night stands and developing a heroin addiction. The trail starts in the Mojave Desert, goes through California and Oregon, and ends in Washington State. Making the trek is no small task as it is rough isolated terrain with many brutal grueling physical and mental obstacles along the way. Not being a seasoned hiker and having little to no money to her name, she finds herself carrying heavy gear in 100-degree heat, lacking fuel to cook her food, and occasionally finding herself dependent on strangers who may or may not be trustworthy. But for Cheryl completing the journey is crucial for her to reconnect with beauty and find a way to reconstruct her life. Laura Dern turns in a wonderful Oscar nominated performance as Cheryl’s ever upbeat mother Bobbi.

Greetings. My name is Karen, and I am a novelist. This week Gigi is taking a break from her usual storytelling and instead will be musing over some general thoughts about life and the universe. Gigi will begin a new story next week which will be a little different than the first four she penned. So, without further ado, here is Gigi.

Good evening. Gigi the parti poodle here to let you know I am taking this Thursday off and will be starting a new story next week. Most of the tales I have penned so far have been relatively light-hearted. This next one, however, will be a bit heavier. I have mulled over the concept for a while now and have begun to make headway on it.

This week my Kindle permanently ceased to function. It was most distressing, and I’ve found myself having to go back to reading paper books until my novelist allows me to purchase a new one. However, after digging through my novelist’s modest book collection I found a good solid handful of novels and short stories I have not yet read. One is apparently being made into a movie on Netflix called All the Light We Cannot See. It is scheduled to be released in November of this year. Here is the trailer. My novelist acquired it through a trade at one of those little libraries, the ones that look like large birdhouses with a front door and are affixed to a post. We pass some occasionally on our walks. They are rather nifty and fun to peruse.

Even though I seem to be getting by with reading paper books, I must say I believe I have become overly enamored with computer solitaire. When I cannot think of something to write I find myself playing it to try and relax my mind. I was on level one a few weeks ago and now I find myself on level thirty. This cannot be good. I must find better ways of facing the blank page as it were. Otherwise, I may end up living underground, fighting cyborgs, and traveling through time naked and hairless.  

I was contemplating Price’s Law today. Price’s Law says that the square root of the number of people in a domain or say a company do 50% of the work. Upon mulling this over I thought about the number of US citizens eighteen years or older. The total of these people in the United States is 258.3 million. If we subtract 50 million from that number for senior citizens, we get 208.3 million. The square root of 208.3 million is 14,432.602. So, if we were to think of the United States as a company, out of all the adults who are over the age of 18 and younger than a senior citizen only 14,432.602 are working. I have no idea what to think about that. I am glad to be a poodle. It doesn’t matter if I work.

I have come to realize that people leave an inordinate number of pencils lying around. I have accumulated many now and have pencil holders full of them. I am not sure why there has been a great pencil chucking movement. Pencils are a rather wonderful invention and have been around for centuries. They only require to be sharpened and they will never cease to function like my Kindle unless paper becomes extinct. And even then, one can use a pencil on many surfaces such as rocks, walls, and wooden floors. My novelist is not fond of these alternate methods, but she must admit they do work.  

The Maltese has been getting more and more privileges lately and I’m rather miffed about it. He has a perfectly good bed on the floor, but my novelist has been allowing him to sleep on her bed when he wakes up in the middle of the night and barks. He has one of those relentless barks. Not a shrill or ear-splitting bark but one that goes on and on and on until he gets what he wants. He has also been getting extra morning office time while I sleep. I’ll wake up after a peaceful slumber and find he’s sharing computer time with my novelist. Something must be done about this unacceptable behavior. He needs to understand it’s my office and not his and I will do the morning, noon, and night occupancy of it.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say this week. Next week I will return with chapter one of my new story.

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: DOUBLE FEATURE: THE STANFORD PRISON EXPERIMENT (2015)-Pluto Tv & Tubi and EXPERIMENTER (2015)-HBO Max

2015 boasted two fascinating true-life stories about historically important and highly controversial psychological experiments.

The first one, one of my absolute favorite movies of the 2010’s is The Stanford Prison Experiment. I could watch this one over and over. It is about a strange little examination done on Stanford’s campus in August of 1971. Twenty-four male Stanford University students were hired for a lucrative temporary job that was supposed to last two weeks. At random Dr. Philip Zimbardo (Billy Crudup) and his team of grad students picked out and with the flip of a coin separated the young men into two groups of twelve. One group was assigned to be prisoners and the other prison guards. Zimbardo brings in a former prisoner Jesse Fletcher (Nelsan Ellis) to make sure there is legitimacy in the way the “prison” set up and run in rooms in the psychology building. But Zimbardo and his team learn quickly that the experiment is a recipe for disaster as within one day chaos quickly takes hold creating a tense and harrowing downward spiral.

The movie boasts an excellent cast of young actors including Tye Sheridan as Peter Mitchell, Ezra Miller as Daniel Culp, and Nicholas Braun as Karl Vandy. But the real standout here is Michael Anarano as Christopher Archer who is chosen to be a prison guard and takes his job very seriously.  

The second movie is about the famous Milgram Experiments where social psychologist Stanley Milgram (Peter Sarsgaard) conducted an experiment where two people entered his office and met with a psychologist which he chose to dress in a grey lab coat. One of the subjects was to sit at a table with a device designed to administer electric shocks. The other person was sent off into a separate room. The first person asked the second person questions through an intercom system and if the second person got one wrong, the first person was to administer a shock, turning up the voltage a little more each time the second person failed to answer the question correctly.

The experiment became controversial not because of the person being shocked but the one giving the shocks, possibly being psychologically traumatized to find out how they responded to authority. Winona Rider turns in a wonderful performance as Milgram’s wife Sasha.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce my twenty-third and final chapter of my story Power Grid Failure. After having a scrumptious Easter with my novelist, she left me with…Him again for two days. Isn’t that a fine how-do-you-do? And of course, I was relegated to spending time with the Maltese. I cannot tell you how retched it is sitting there trying to enjoy a delicate piece of my white chocolate Easter bunny whilst having that carbuncle glued to my side. Not to mention he’s developed the most annoying snort ever since he went to the groomers. Had a breakdown in the bathtub from what I understand and got water up his nose. I ask you; how would you like to partake of your Easter treats with something that sounds like a congested donkey by your side? Monstrous I tell you. I’ve experienced better ambiance in the public bathrooms. My novelist did return by evening of the second day and my world is now back in order. I managed to somehow squeak out this last chapter wrap it all up with a bright red bow. In the next few weeks, I will begin a new tale. And so, without further ado, here is Chapter Twenty-Three, the finale to my story Power Grid Failure. Fruere!

Power Grid Failure

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Three

Reynolds turns back to Dragontail and says, “You’re out of your mind.”

“On the contrary,” Dragontail replies, “this is the most lucid I’ve ever been. The idea came to me all at once. At first, I considered revenge. I considered it a lot. Every waking moment I mulled over ways to destroy you, Reynolds. I wondered about how I’d get even with you for all the precious time you robbed me of. I could have been a great actor with an extensive resume. But I always made the mistake of listening to you. Letting you steer the boat. I never wanted to create that stupid wrist burning watch for actors. I just wanted to make movies. Great movies. Movies like no one has ever seen before. If we’d focused on building a production company instead of a product, we wouldn’t have ended up in prison.”

“Your productions were always losing money.”

“Not always.”

“Okay, not always. The problem was you’d make a small film that made a profit and then you’d turn around and make a bigger budget film that bombed. I kept telling you to make small films. You’re good at making small films.”

“Well, I’ve found a whole new way to make movies I’m even better at. Guerilla filmmaking.”

“Are you saying you’ve put all of us in your new movie?”

“Correct.”

Crystal hurries to the entrance of the Mesachie building and helps Adams to his feet. “What happened?” she asks.

“Dragontail shot me with his stun gun,” he tells her. “Where’s Tiffany?”

“Guarding Unicorn.”

“You just left her alone with Unicorn?”

“She’s a grownup. She can handle it.”

“But he’s Unicorn.”

Crystal marches onto the skybridge. “What’s going on?” she demands looking at Dragontail and Reynolds.

“It’s all been a scam,” Sloan says.

“A scam?”

“As in Smile, you’re on Candid Camera.”

“What’s Candid Camera?”

“How did you film us?” Martin demands.

“Unicorn is head of security,” Dragontail says. “He’s got access to cameras everywhere. And since he works the night shift it was easy for him to set up a way to record sound as well.

“You made me miss my kids’ holiday performance because you wanted to make a guerilla movie?” Windy says.

“Yes. But it’s something your whole family will be able to treasure for years to come.”

“You monster!”

“You can’t release the film without our written consent,” Martin says.

“Your consent is irrelevant,” Dragontail says.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because guerilla filmmakers don’t care about consent or permits. They care about making a film at all costs. And not only that, but this isn’t a workplace film. It’s a film that happens to be made in an office building.”

“At least you’ll have an interesting excuse for missing your kids’ show, Windy,” Martin says.

Suddenly, the door of the Mesachie building swings open, and Tiffany burst inside dragging Unicorn stumbling behind her tied up with computer cable.

“Here’s the little weasel,” she says and gives Unicorn a shove.

“Apparently, Unicorn is a cinematographer,” Adams tells her.

“A what?”

“Dragontail and Unicorn have been filming us the whole time.”

“You jerk!” Tiffany says and yanks on the computer cord causing Unicorn to squeak.

“I love it when you hurt me,” he says.

“Watch your mouth,” Sloan warns.

“We need a final shot,” Dragontail says.

“You call that an ending?” Reynolds says.

“I call it art. Now, I want to finish this scene.”

“What scene?”

“The final scene on the skybridge. A great big fight scene.”

“You’re nuts. No one wants to fight. Everyone just wants to go home.”

“And they will. As soon as we finish this scene. Now, there’s a good chance there will be some serious injuries.”

Just then the elevator doors ding and Remmel comes strolling down the hall and enters the skybridge from the Redoubt building entrance.

“Fantastic!” Dragontail says. “You’re here. Alright, places everyone. One, two, three and…action!”

“Adams, run!” Reynolds yells.

Adams shoves Dragontail out of the way and runs towards the Redoubt exit. Windy grabs Martin’s and they run after him. Tiffany lets go of Unicorn’s computer cords, runs up and grabs Sloan’s hand and they scramble after the others. Reynolds grabs Crystal’s hand and starts to leave but Craggy grabs Crystal’s free hand.

“I’m finishing this movie, Reynolds!”

Adams rushes to the elevator and holds up the key card. He turns to his coworkers and yells, “Hurry!”

Windy, Martin, Tiffany, and Sloan all sprint for the elevator door.

“Let’s go!” Martin shouts.

“We can’t. Reynolds and Crystal aren’t here yet.”

“They’re coming!”

The elevator dings. Martin shoves Adams into the elevator and drags Windy inside. Tiffany and Sloan get on. Adams gets to his feet and pushes the Open-Door button.

“We need to wait for them,” Adams says.

“He’s right,” Tiffany agrees.

“Someone’s coming!” Windy says.

Suddenly, Reynolds jumps onto the elevator car and pulls Crystal inside with him. “Go!”

Adams releases the Open-Door button and pushes the button for the first floor. Dragontail’s angry face comes into view. “Get back on set!”

Tiffany steps up and pushes him and he stumbles backwards just as the doors are about to close.

“This is my movie…!”

The door shuts and all of them stand staring at the number pad. The car begins to descend. Reynolds looks at Crystal and realizes they are still holding hands.

“I hate Mondays,” he says to her and smiles.

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: EMILY THE CRIMNAL (2022)-NETFLIX

This week’s pick is a fantastic taunt tense thriller written and directed by John Patton Ford in his feature directorial debut. It focuses on the ridiculous amount of debt students are forced to carry due to America’s lack of funding for higher education. It also shows the sinister way companies use internships to abuse college students and graduates to legally acquire free labor. The United States is notorious for the way it punishes the best and the brightest and rewards the wealthy mediocre who gravitate not towards STEM or the arts but business and management. This can be seen in how grade schools now sickeningly reward complacent behavior alongside academic achievement. Then they turn around and hire unnecessary bureaucratic management that rob students and teachers of the money they need. Ford based his story on his personal life dealing with working in restaurants and struggling with student debt.

Emily (Aubry Plazza in a stunning performance) is a former student carrying $70,000 in student debt. She struggles to lower the principal because much of the money she pays towards her loan each month goes to the interest instead. She constantly interviews for better paying jobs but is always turned down and often haunted by an incident that left her with a criminal record. One day her coworker Javier (Bernardo Badillo) asks her to cover one of his shifts and gives her a number to text if she’d like to make an easy $200.

After her shift Emily texts the number to ask what the job is. She receives a vague answer but goes to the provided location anyway. When she arrives, she finds herself amongst a dozen or more others who have come to see about the job. One of the men heading up the operation makes a copy of their driver’s licenses and photographs them. Emily then meets Youcef (Theo Rossi) who helps head what turns out to be a credit card fraud ring where Emily and the others are enlisted as dummy shoppers. They are given a fake ID and fake credit card, are driven to a large store, and told to each purchase a flat screen television that the ring will turn around and sell for nearly 100% profit.

Youcef does indeed give Emily her $200 cash for her hour of work and says if she wants to earn $2000, she can return tomorrow after they text her. Emily obliges and takes the $2000 an hour con job. And even though it proves to be far more harrowing than the first, Emily discovers she might have a knack for the work and is just getting started.

Good evening. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce Chapter Twenty-Two, the second to last chapter of my story Power Grid Failure. This week was horrendous. My novelist took off for a few days and left me with that wretched Maltese and…Him. It was almost more than I could bear. I was certain I would burst into uncontrolled whining at any moment. The Maltese and I never get treats when my novelist is away. He doesn’t believe in giving out treats. What a horrid brute he is. I can hardly believe it. He seems to think we only need food and water to be cared for. Absolutely uncouth. That’s what I have to say about that.

On the brighter side, the Maltese is at the groomers today and I am at home enjoying the company of my now restored novelist. I am sitting by the window facing the street enjoying the view. I must also say Easter is this Sunday and I do enjoy…excuse me. My cell phone is ringing.

            Yes?

            I say Easter, you say Bunny!

            What are you doing calling me?

            I am being blown dry right now.

            What does that have to do with the price of training bits in France?

            I say Easter, you say Bunny!

            No.

            YEAH! ARE YOU READY FOR SOME EASTER BUNNY ACTION?!

            You are embarrassing me…

            WHOOO!

            Stop this tomfoolery right now…

            I say Easter, you say Bunny! Easter!

            No.

            I SAY EASTER, YOU SAY BUNNY!!!

            You are insane!

            EASTER!

            Mental, that’s what you are!

            EASTER!

            I…oh, good grief. Bunny!

            Easter!

            Bunny!

            Easter!

            Bunny!

            I say Easter, you say Bunny!

            Easter!

            Bunny!

            Easter!

            I’m getting as fluffy as the Easter Bunny! Easter Bunny! Easter…Buuunnnyyy!

            Hello? Tucker? Hello?

            It’s alright. I did a stage dive off the table and landed in the bubble bath.

I just…I don’t… forget it. Here is Chapter twenty-two of my story Power Grid Failure. Happy Easter, everyone!

Power Grid Failure

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Two

Out on the skybridge Reynolds dodges around playing keep away from Craggy. Craggy charges at Reynolds who darts left and circles to the opposite side. Craggy charges again and Reynolds shoots back to where he started. Craggy rushes at Reynolds full speed. Reynolds darts left but to no avail. Craggy tackles him and the two men hit the deck.

Reynolds knows he is in the worst possible position: on the ground. Craggy rears back to throw a punch. Reynolds grounds his foot and rolls to his side. Craggy loses his balance and just misses slamming his fist into the skybridge floor. Reynolds hops to his feet as Craggy regains balance.

“Come on, Adams,” Reynolds mutters. “I can’t hold this guy off forever…”

Craggy grabs Reynold’s shirt and pins him up against the glass. He punches him in the stomach. Reynolds, gasping, and wheezing raises his arm, turns, and slams his elbow down on Craggy’s arm, breaking his hold.

“Ah, the good old prison days,” Reynolds quips.

Craggy slaps Reynold’s face.

“Ow!” Reynolds says and slaps him back surprising Craggy before he runs down the bridge in the direction of the Mesahchie building. 

Back in the glassed-in office area, Remmel checks his watch, looks at Martin, Sloan and Windy then checks his watch again.

“It’s been a while,” Sloan whispers. “What should we do?”

“It’s three to one,” Martin says.

“What does that mean?”

“He can’t stop us all.”

Sloan looks at Martin. Martin looks at Windy. Windy looks at Martin. Finally, Windy nods her head. All three look back at Remmel.

Remmel looks up from his watch. “What?”

Martin leaps from his chair and charges at Remmel. Remmel reaches into his holster for his No Fun Stun Gun. Remmel fires and hits Martin who yelps. Sloan and Windy dive at Remmel and knock him to the floor. Windy slaps the gun out of Remmel’s hand. He shoves her off him and dives for it, but Sloan gets there first. Remmel lunges at him, but Sloan, with shaking hands and racing heart turns and fires. He misses. Remmel goes to snatch it out of his hand when Windy jumps on his back and wraps her hands around his eyes.

“You made me miss my kids’ holiday performance!” she rages.

“Give me the gun,” Martin says to Sloan.

“Shut up, old man…sir. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve got to put it on the right setting.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert in No Fun Stun Guns now?”

“You’ve got to flip that switch there,” Martin says pointing.

“I know,” Sloan says flipping the switch.

Suddenly, they hear a thud and turn. Windy is on the floor.

“Shoot!” Martin tells Sloan.

Sloan points the No Fun Stun Gun at Remmel, pulls the trigger and…it doesn’t fire. Sloan pulls the trigger frantically, but it just clicks. Remmel grabs Sloan’s wrist and shakes it causing the weapon to drop. Remmel kicks it and it goes skittering into the wall. He wrestles Sloan to the ground. Martin turns to chase the weapon, but Remmel reaches out and catches his ankle causing him to trip and hit the floor. Sloan struggles to get up but his short stint in high school as a wrestler fails to assist him and he is unable to get leverage. Martin wheezes and coughs having had the air knocked out of him. He props himself up on his elbows and crawls towards the wall like a soldier on his stomach. A flash of legs comes into view and suddenly he hears the unmistakable sound of the No Fun Stun Gun firing.

The chaos ceases and the glassed-in area becomes silent. Sloan feels Remmel go limp. He squirms and struggles grunting under the weight of his attacker and moves towards freedom like a seal on its flippers. His eyes lift and he sees Windy standing in front of the wall, hands quivering, eyes wide and wild, still pointing the stun gun at Remmel.

Reynolds hears Craggy’s footsteps pounding behind him as he races towards the Mesahchie entrance.

Then, like a ferry boat emerging from the fog Adams’s face comes into view through the door’s window. Adams raises his frantic eyes to meet Reynolds’s as he rushes to put the keycard up to the reader.

Reynolds breathes in relief as he finally sees a way out of the skybridge. Reynolds dives for the door as Adam’s throws it open.

“Reynolds, hurry!” Adams yells.

Reynolds feels his feet rise off the ground; his hands positioned like an airborne swimmer. As he sails towards the exit, Adams’s face is jerked out of the way and replaced by Dragontail’s. His hot red eyes bore into Reynolds as he shoots Adams with his No Fun Stun Gun dropping Adams to the floor.

“Reynolds,” Dragontail growls, “You can’t seem to comprehend my level of rage.”

He points the stun gun at Reynolds and fires. Reynolds puts his hands over his head and winces. He hears a thud behind him as Craggy hits the floor.  

“You think I need muscle to bring you down?”

Reynolds scrambles to his feet and says, “All this because I got out of jail a year early?”

“You ruined my career!”

“You could still have a career.”

“I tried founding a new production company when I got out of prison. Hydra Harridan Productions. It went bankrupt too.”

“Because you keep making the wrong movies.”

“An artist needs to make films that drive him.”

“You needed to make a film about a mountain man who lived in a national park and scared campers at night until he discovered his true calling selling handmade sunglasses crafted out of scraps of wood and working part time for the CIA?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it needed to be made. Some films just need to be made.”

“But not films that drive the company into bankruptcy.”

“You always cared about the box-office. Never the story.”

“That’s not true. You can make a reasonably priced film that will give you a good payday and then make another reasonably priced film, and then another. You just need to stay within the budget.”

“I needed to make a film about a Komodo Dragon who travels back in time and finds his long-lost relatives amongst the dinosaurs. Sometimes bringing your vision to life is not about the budget.”

“Without the money you can’t make your vision. You were going to make a movie about a guy who after twenty years goes to see his parents and meet his little sister whom he’s never met.”

“Boring.”

“Maybe. But if you can make that story not boring and stay within budget, I’ll help you produce it.”

“You’re a janitor.”

“You know I’ve got money saved.”

“I want it in writing.”

“Done. But only if you take this building out of lockdown and let the employees go home.”

“Craggy.”

Craggy rises from the floor.

“Paperwork please.”

Craggy reaches inside his jacket pocket and produces a contract and a pen.

“You didn’t think I came unprepared, did you?”

Craggy walks towards Reynolds and hands him the papers.

Reynolds looks at Craggy. “You recovered fast.”

Craggy shrugs.

“I need to have a lawyer look this over.”

“Sign the papers or not only is Unicorn not opening the building, but he’s also taking off with Tiffany and…what’s her name right now.”

“That’s not possible,” Adams says bursting through the door to the Mesahchie building. “Crystal and Tiffany tied him up.”

“For a computer nerd you’re a little slow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sign the papers, Reynolds.”

“These look like documents for a movie,” Reynolds says looking at the document.

“Recognize them, do you?”

“What’s going on?”

Suddenly, Martin, Sloan, and Windy appear at the window to the Redoubt building and start pounding on the door.

“Let them in,” Dragontail tells Craggy.

Craggy lumbers back across the bridge and opens the door. As soon as he does, the three office workers charge at him and knock him to the ground.

“Wait!” Reynolds yells, running towards the ruckus. “Stop!”

“We just escaped!” Sloan says. “We’ve come to rescue you.”

“I think we’ve been hoodwinked.”

“Hoodwinked?”

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: BORN FREE (1966)-CRACKLE &AMERICAN CLASSICS

This week’s pick is one of the most beloved films of all time and boast one of the finest film scores and songs ever written for the silver screen. It is the timeless story of Joy and George Adamson beautifully played by real life spouses Virginia McKenna and Bill Travers. The story was based on the book Born Free: The Story of Elsa by Joy Adamson. After shooting a man-eating lion and its lioness, game warden George discovers the two large cats had three cubs. The couple took them in and raised them as if they were part of the family.

When the cubs start to get older the head warden Kendall (Geoffrey Keen) tells the couple the cubs will need to be taken in by a zoo. Heartbroken they agree and prepare a truck to transport the young cats. But when they get to the location of the airport George sees how devastated Joy is and keeps the smallest cat Elsa, Joy’s favorite.

Joy and George continue to raise Elsa to adulthood, and all goes well until an elephant stampede overruns a village and Elsa propensity towards playing with other Kenyan animals is suspected. Joy and George face a complex dilemma: put Elsa in a zoo or find a way to re-initiate her into the wild.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to deliver you chapter twenty-one of my story Power Grid Failure. As you know I am planning to conclude this story in the next week or two and begin penning my new tale in April. One of the most difficult parts about writing a story is finding a subject which is of interest to me such as Particle Romance, Paleomagnetism, and air popped popcorn. One can never think too much about air popped popcorn. In fact, I’m thinking about it right now. The question is does air popped popcorn warrant a story? Possibly. Especially if the story had depth, merit and says something profound about the world. Alas, my next story is about none of these things…as far as I know. But who knows what will happen when I delve deeper into my tale. Perhaps a kernel of popcorn will have a particle romance with a rock millions of miles away and the paleomagnetism of the earth will play a part in bringing them together. And on that note, here is chapter twenty-one of Power Grid Failure.

Power Grid Failure

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-One

Crystal is concerned. Adams hasn’t shown up yet, and Unicorn is getting antsy. She noticed earlier Unicorn was wearing a No Fun Stun Gun in a holster on his hip like he thought he was a sheriff or something.

“Alright, ladies,” he says. “It looks like we’re getting ready to shut down for the night.”

“What do you mean?” Crystal asks.

“Dragontail’s finishing up his job.”

“And then what?”

“And then I take Tiffany home.”

“You’re not taking me anywhere,” Tiffany says.

What Unicorn fails to notice is that Tiffany has picked up a remote mouse off one of the tables. She advances towards him and slams it down on top of the inside of his right wrist. Now, this would have been an effective move had Unicorn been right-handed. But an abnormally large section of the criminal population is left-handed, and Unicorn is no exception. Although the blow to his right wrist is agonizing, he can pivot and shoot Tiffany in the face with his No Fun Stun Gun which is exactly what he does. She drops to the ground instantly.

He grabs her by the arm and drags her in the general direction of his office. “I guess you thought I came to the party unprepared,” Unicorn tells Crystal as he flips his cape over his shoulder with his free hand, grins at her wickedly, and points his weapon at her.  

She studies him carefully. “Your undersized pecker doesn’t impress me,” she says.

Unicorn fires but Crystal ducks in time and the shot strikes a monitor knocking it backwards off the table. “Good luck stopping me, wench.”

Crystal grabs a coffee cup with the company’s logo emblazoned across it and hucks it at him. He fires, hits the cup, and shatters it. This allows Crystal enough time to gain ground. She grabs another coffee cup and hurls it his direction. He fires and strikes the cup as she creeps closer to him.

“You’re a lousy shot, Uniputz,” she says.

“No one asked you to come here,” he says firing again and striking a Star Trek figurine. “You’re too plain and you’re crashing my beautiful person’s party.”

Crystal grabs two wireless mice. She hurls one at him which he shoots, before she aims the second at his forehead and…bullseye.

“Ow!” he screeches and grabs his head.

To be fair, when Reynolds showed Crystal how to strike her opponent in the side of the knee with the flat of her foot the whole move made her queasy. But upon finding herself in the middle of a one-sided stun gun shootout, queasiness does not come into play. She rushes up to him, grabs his ear and slams her foot towards his knee. Unicorn twists enough for her to miss. This ticks Crystal off, and she pivots and palm heels him in the face.

Unicorn screams as blood trickles out his nose. Frazzled, he fires again sending a pencil cup full of company pens up into the air before it plunges to the carpet scattering pens everywhere.

The elevator doors open and Reynolds and Adams shove Dragontail into the office area.

“You think you’re smart, Reynolds?” Dragontail growls. “You think I haven’t thought through every possible way something could go wrong?”

“Keep moving,” Reynolds says shoving him along. “I’m not interested in what you think.”

“What about you, Adams?” Dragontail asks. “You think you’re going to be prince charming and rescue the ladies? Because if you do, you’re a sadly mistaken simp.”

Reynolds gives Dragontail another shove and the three of them head towards the entrance to the skybridge. Adams puts Dragontail’s card up to the keypad. Just as the door unlocks the elevator doors open behind them and Craggy burst through. He begins tromping towards them.

“Craggy!” Dragontail yells.

“Move!” Reynolds says and pushes Dragontail through the door. Adams skitters inside behind them as it closes. Craggy marches up to the keypad and holds up a keycard. The door clicks open again and Craggy enters. It’s now clear to Reynolds and Adams that Craggy also has access to the blocked areas of the Redoubt and Mesahchie building.

“Adams!” Reynolds says. “Run ahead and open the door.”

Adams nods and hurries towards the end of the skybridge as Craggy tromps after them. Adams holds Dragontail’s keycard up to the pad and the door unlocks.

“Help!” Reynolds calls out to him.

Adams spins around to find Craggy advancing on Dragontail and Reynolds. He’s not sure what to do. If he leaves the door, it will shut, and he’ll have to go back to open it again which will eat up time.

Suddenly, Reynolds shoves Dragontail towards Adams. Adams realizes what he needs to do. He hurries towards Reynolds; lunges forwards and catches Dragontail by the arm. He whirls him around, rushes towards the door, reopens it, and pulls him through the entrance to the Mesahchie building.

Adams isn’t a big guy, but he’s bigger than Dragontail and strong enough to maneuver him down the hall to the Security room. He drags him kicking and screaming down the hall until they reach the door. He puts the keycard up to the keypad and the door clicks open. He pulls Dragontail inside. The place is empty.

“Tiffany!” Adams yells. “Crystal!”

No answer.

Dragontail chuckles. “Looks like your too late, punk,” he says triumphantly.

“Too late for what?”

“How should I know? The only agreement I made with Unicorn was to deliver Tiffany.”

“Get in here!”

Dragontail and Adams quickly turn their focus to the back of the room where Crystal is holding the door to the nerve center open.

Dragontail sees an opportunity and breaks away from Adams. But as he does, Adams reaches for Dragontail’s No Fun Stun Gun, aims and fires. Dragontail screams and hits the ground. Crystal comes running down the ramp holding computer cables.

“Hurry,” she tells Adams. “Get up there and work your magic.”

Crystal starts binding Dragontail’s wrists and hands as Adam’s rushes to the back.

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: RUBY SPARKS (2012)-HULU

This week’s pick is a quirky little romantic fantasy about willing things into being. A young novelist Calvin Weir-Fields (Paul Danno) had a very popular and well received first novel at the tender age of nineteen and has been trying ever since to write his second book. Tired of living on the fumes of his success and embittered by his last relationship he seeks help from his psychiatrist Dr. Rosenthal (Elliott Gould). Rosenthal gives him an exercise to write one page about someone who likes his little dog, Scotty. Calvin goes home to his manual typewriter which he writes everything on and completes the project. But something goes awry. The person he has chosen to write about is the girl of his dreams who literally appears out of thin air. Her name is Ruby Sparks (Zoe Kazan who also penned the script) and she appears in the flesh in his kitchen. At first Calvin is terrified of having brought a character to life and questions his grasp on reality. But when his brother Harry (Chris Messina) and others admit to seeing her and that she is indeed real, Calvin finds himself on an odyssey of ups and downs like he has never experienced before.

Good afternoon. It is Thursday once again and I Gigi the parti poodle am here to introduce chapter twenty of my story Power Grid Failure. As my novelist mentioned I only have a few more chapters left, and my tale will be complete. Like most writers who are facing the end of a story I have been pondering my next literary work. I spend long hours in front of the window on my pillow staring at pedestrians passing by, barking ferociously at them, and mulling over my creative ideas trying to decide on how I will craft my fifth story. I have a couple of characters in mind and a basic concept of how it will go. I am excited to venture out on my new journey, telling perhaps a darker tale than what I have penned before. Until then I will focus on finishing this one with a flourish and keeping the Maltese contained until the Easter Bunny arrives. He is so fond of those See’s little white chocolate easter bunnies. Provided he’s expecting those in his basket and not the wild ones that hop around here, we should be fine. Last year was a disaster. And with that thought, here is chapter twenty of my story Power Grid Failure. Cheers!

Power Grid Failure

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty

Adams takes the stairwell to the skybridge. As he opens the door and heads towards the bridge’s entrance, he hears someone coming. He ducks behind a desk and sees Dragontail moving across the bridge making his way back from the Mesachie Building. Dragontail steps up to the door, uses a keycard, and unlocks it.

Adams finds this odd as the Redoubt building is in lockdown. He mulls it over and figures Dragontail and Unicorn must be selectively choosing where to channel the power. This means Adam’s card might work to access the bridge. Dragontail continues along and Adams scurries over to the door to the bridge and holds his keycard up to the pad. Nothing. He tries again. Nothing. Unicorn must have only given Dragontail and himself access. He runs back over to the desk he was hiding behind, takes out his phone and texts Reynolds:  Can’t get across bridge. Unicorn’s using an alternate power source.

Reynolds, who is still sitting in Tiffany’s office area where Craggy is lip syncing sees the text. He ponders for a moment and then texts back: Go to the janitor’s closet. I’ll give you an override code to get in.

Okay.

Adams figures the janitor closet is in the same place on this floor as it is on his own and he’s right. After he gets there, he texts Reynolds again. What’s the code?

847965

Adam’s punches the numbers into the pad on the door. The door clicks open. Now what?

How well does Unicorn know you?

Not very well.

Good. Change into the janitor’s uniform.

Adam’s examines the janitor’s jumpsuit. It looks too big. Then what?

Call Unicorn and tell him your Thad.

Who’s Thad?

The janitor on that floor. Tell him your locked in.

He’s not going to care.

He’ll care if your Thad.

A better plan would be getting our hands on Dragontail’s keycard and weapon.

How, hotshot?

Adams exits the janitor’s closet and quickly sneaks after Dragontail. He catches up to him, hides behind a wall and watches Dragontail use the keycard to open the elevator doors and board. When the doors close, Adams texts, Tag-team him. I abort the mission and head after him while you head towards him. He has power to the elevator too and he just got on.

Interesting idea. Doubt we could hold him off, but we could try to sandwich him.

Problem is it leaves Tiffany and Crystal with Unicorn longer.

You can’t cross the skybridge without his keycard anyway.

I’ll go after Dragontail now.

I’ll cut him off at the pass.

Adams hurries towards the stairwell while back in Tiffany’s glassed in area Craggy finishes one more run through of “That’s alright” to a round of applause.

“You see,” Martin says. “Communication through lip sync. That’s how the Marines do it. The few, the proud the lip syncers.”

“I have to say,” Remmel says. “That’s the most impressed I’ve ever been with Craggy.”

Craggy beams.

“I need to get my pills from the janitor’s closet,” Reynolds says.

“What pills?” Remmel demands.

“Diet pills.”

“Diet pills? You’re as skinny as a rod.”

“Because they work. And they’re a prescription. Doctor’s orders.”

“Craggy, go with him.”

“It would only take me a minute…”

I don’t care if it would take you a nanosecond. I’m tired of keeping track of who’s coming and who’s going out of this room.”

Craggy who’s itching to tackle another song reluctantly sticks an unlit cigarette in his mouth, eyes Reynolds and points to the door.

The wheels in Reynold’s head turn. He studies his companion as the two exit the glassed-in area. Craggy is a six foot plus strong bulky guy. By comparison Reynolds is five eleven and slim. Not to mention not packing a No Fun Stun Gun. This, of course, puts him at a disadvantage. Adams and Dragontail are progressing this way fast and now instead of he and Adams outmanning Dragontail, Dragontail and Craggy outpower them.

Reynolds heads towards the janitor’s closet with one eye on the stairwell. He could make a break for it but Craggy would reach out and grab him by the neck ala the sheepdog thwarting the coyote in the Warner Bros. cartoons. He recalls a time in prison when a counterfeiter faked a seizure during exercise time. The counterfeiter had gotten into a kafuffle with a money launderer who’d threatened to give him what for. The incident bought the counterfeiter enough time for the money launderer to cool his jets. Reynolds wasn’t sure the same trick would work on Craggy, but it was worth a try.

He unlocks the door of the closet and grabs his backpack. He unzips one of the pockets, reaches inside…and starts twitching.

Within seconds Reynolds drops to the floor convulsing. Craggy watches him not knowing what action to take. He lights his cigarette, ponders for a moment then runs back to Remmel. Reynolds hops to his feet and heads for the elevator. Sure enough, he hears the car coming down. The door to the stairwell bursts open and Adams rushes out.

Reynolds mouths, “He’s coming down,” as he points to the elevator.

Adams rushes over and gets on the opposite side of the doors as Reynolds. Just as he does Remmel comes out of the glass doors on route to the janitor closet. Adams and Reynolds hold their breath. The elevator dings and the doors open. Dragontail starts to disembark. Remmel comes rushing around the corner. Adams and Reynolds push Dragontail back into the elevator. Remmel sees them.

Adams pounds on the elevator button. “I can’t close the doors!”

Dragontail struggles with Reynolds. He punches him in the nose. “Get off me!” Dragontail yells.

Adams tries the button once again.

“Keycard!” Reynolds shouts. Remmel marches towards the elevator. Reynolds grabs Dragontail’s keycard. “Adams!” He juts the card towards Adams. Dragontail slaps it out of his hand. The card skitters over the carpet of the elevator and bounces on the door track. Remmel dives towards the elevator. Adams lunges and snatches the card mid bounce and holds it up on the elevator pad. The light turns green, he pushes the close door button. Remmel reaches the elevator just as the doors shut and the car heads up.  

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: RRR (2022)-NETFLIX

Bold, ambitious, and completely insane, this is a film like no other you will see this year. Clocking in at three hours and seven minutes long this story has no dull moments. It is what, I think, superhero movies attempt to be and fail. This is thanks to its strong script and well-crafted characters not to mention its extraordinary sets, gorgeous costumes, meticulous direction and editing and passionate performances.

This is the story of two Hindi men, one a soldier and one a tribal man set against the backdrop of colonial India. The soldier, Rama Raju (Ram Charan), is the best and most tenacious fighter the British have ever seen. Yet, they refuse to promote him. Then along comes an opportunity. A young tribal girl has been taken by the British governor’s wife. A tribal man from the same tribe named Komaram Bheem (N.T. Rama Rao Jr.) is hunting her down to bring her back to her family. Rama Raju is told Bheem is like a tiger driven to complete his goal and will let nothing stand in his way until he brings the girl home. Rama Rajo takes on the job of finding Bheem and thwarting his plan. But along the way, the two meet under extreme and unusual circumstances in which together they work to save a boy’s life. Each admiring the other’s skills the two become best friends neither one realizing they have conflicting missions.   

The movie won the Oscar for Best Original Song for “Naatu Naatu” which was the only category it received a nod for. But it was clear from watching the Oscars the Academy knew it should have been nominated it in other categories as well such as Costume Design, Art Direction, Director, Editing, Special Effects and Best Foreign Film.

 

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here on my usual Thursday to introduce chapter nineteen of my story Power Grid Failure. This week I went through the horror of my dental cleaning. It was sprung upon me by my novelist without a warning. I was whisked off to the vet early in the morning, thrust into a small room and then taken from the arms of my beloved novelist. The rest is but a blur. I found myself waking up sometime in the afternoon with abnormally clean teeth. It was mortifying. I was stuck in a holding cell until my novelist came to gather me that afternoon. It took me a couple of days to recover from the shock. But I am back to my usual self and glad to not be facing such a kafuffle for another year. I can point my focus towards spring and the onset of the next holiday…

I say Easter, you say bunny Easter…!

Get out of here you insane Maltese! That’s not for entire month! And now here is chapter nineteen of my story Power Grid Failure. Cheers!

Power Grid Failure

by

Gigi the parti poodle

“You’d better figure this out quick, Reynolds,” Martin says. “The girls left twenty minutes ago.”

“Women,” Adam’s says. “You are supposed to call them women, Mr. Peak.”

“Shut up, Adams. There’re more important issues at hand than your political correctness. How are we going to get Adams in that control room, Reynolds?”

“I think I could sneak over to the Mesachie building and get into Unicorn’s control room without them catching me,” Adams says. “I’ve played enough first-person shooter games. I’ve gotten stealthy.”

Sloan scoffs. “Craggy and Remmel will bag your ass before you even get out the door.”

“I hate to say it, Adams,” Reynolds says, “but Sloan’s right. There’s no way you could accomplish this on your own.”

“At the very least you’d need a diversion.”

“Martin could have a heart attack.”

“A heart attack?” Martin says skeptically.

“Not a real one. A fake one.”

“I’m not faking a heart attack. Those two goons will use that defibrillator on me that’s just outside the door.”

“Good point. I suppose you couldn’t stop your heart for a couple of minutes, could you?”

“No, Reynolds. I could not.”

“Sloan and I could get into a fake fight. But we’d have to synchronize it. Adam’s would have to start heading out the door to the bathroom or something and then Sloan and I could start fighting.”

“If you hit me in the face, Reynolds,” Sloan says. “I’ll kick you in the nads.”

“That’s such a girl move, bro.”

“It’s street fighting.”

“Like a girl. And kicking is a last resort.”

“They don’t want to be called girls, they want to be called women,” Adams says.

“Shut up, Adams,” Sloan says, “or I’ll kick you in the nads.”

“What’s going on, ladies,” Remmel demands.

“We’re having a gentlemen’s disagreement,” Reynolds says.

“Yeah? About what?”

“Street fighting.”

Remmel scoffs. “Since when do you pansies street fight?”

“Martin was in the Marines.”

Martin’s eyes widen and he glares at Reynolds.

“Yeah? Doing what? Laundry?”

“He was a trainer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“Training what to whom?”

“You’re up, Mr. Peak,” Reynolds whispers to Martin.

Martin narrows his eyes. “Training what to whom?” Remmel repeats.

“Lip sync,” Martin says.

“Come again?”

“I taught Marines to lip sync.”

“Why?”

“In the Marines you need all the skills you can get and one of them is to send other Marines code through lip sync.”

“They even have lip sync battles,” Reynolds says.

Remmel looks at Craggy who shakes his head and sticks a cigarette in his mouth. “You’re yanking my chain,” Remmel says.

“No, it’s a thing.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, Peak’s serious.”

“Craggy’s girlfriend is into lip sync.”

Craggy spits out his cigarette and growls at Remmel.

“Craggy hates lip sync. Too artistic.”

“Sometimes when you’re on a mission,” Martin says, “lip syncing can be one of your best lines of defense.”

“If you’re such a hot shot, Marine lip sync trainer, why don’t you teach Craggy how to do it?”

“You’re on, Martin,” Reynolds says.

Martin, who had in his youth done some lip sync battles in high school, knew it was one of the few talents he had. But high school was a long time ago.

“We’re going to need some music,” Martin says.

“I’m bringing up YouTube as we speak,” Reynolds says whipping out his phone.

“Craggy, is there a specific song you know most of the words to?”

“He likes “That’s All Right”,” Remmel says.

“Good choice since “That’s All Right” is public domain. Can you find it, Reynolds?”

“Give me a second,” Reynolds says. “Elvis, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, here it is.” Reynolds plays “That’s Alright”.

“Alright, Craggy. Stand right there.”

Craggy looks at Remmel. Remmel nods towards the spot Martin is pointing at. Craggy slogs over and stands in front of Tiffany’s chair.

“Okay, Craggy,” Martin says. “Now, what you’ve got to keep in mind while you do this is how you move your feet when you mouth the words. Use your feet to keep the rythem. But not in the usual way folks keep rythem. It’s like a dance, see.” Martin demonstrates by twisting the ball of his foot and then the heel out and back then spreading his legs and bouncing the heels of both feet. “See, it moves you. Makes your hips twist a bit. Now you try.”

Craggy looks at Remmel who nods his head. Craggy shakes his and then attempts to copy Martin’s moves.

“Now, when you want to emphasize a point, go up on the balls of both feet,” Martin rises on the balls of his feet and juts his hips out. And if you’re really daring you go all the way up on the tips of your toes. But for right now let’s just have you go up on the balls of your feet.

Craggy tries again but he looks awkward.

“You’ve got to stay loose, son. You don’t want to fight the music; you want to feel it. Okay, Reynolds. Play the song.”

Reynolds plays “That’s Alright” by Elvis. Craggy shakes out his shoulders and kinks his neck side to side. Then he tries dancing again.

“That’s it, kid. Keep going. Don’t worry about the lyrics just move those feet. Do you know how to do rubber band legs?”

Craggy shakes his head.

“Okay, watch me.” Martin bends his knees and starts moving them in and out. “Now, if you really want the full effect you get up on the balls of your feet, like this.”

Martin rises to the balls of his feet and starts moving his knees in and out faster. Craggy studies him with intensity and then he tries it. He stumbles a little then tries it again.

“Not bad. Okay, Reynolds, stop the music and go back to the beginning. Now, Craggy are you sure you know the words?”

Craggy nods his head.

“Good. Now, let’s have you mouth the lyrics first time through and then we’ll start incorporating the moves. Reynolds, are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Peak,” Reynolds says.

“Phenomenal. Alright, Craggy, let’s see you lip sync.”

Reynolds starts the music and Craggy mouths the lyrics.  

“Put some expression into it, kid.”

Craggy tries adding more energy.

“Okay, stop.”

Reynolds stops the music.

“Craggy, you need to think about who you would sing this to. Do you have someone in mind?”

Craggy looks to the back of the room and points at Windy. Windy’s eyes widen, and she looks around embarrassed.

“Come up here, Windy,” Martin says. “We need you.”

“Of course,” she says cautiously. “Happy to help.”

“Sit in Tiffany’s chair here.”

Windy creeps up to where the men are and sits down gingerly.

“Alright, Craggy,” Martin says. “You’re going to sing to her as if you’re delivering the most important message in the world. Alright, Reynolds. Hit it.”

Craggy gets positioned as Reynolds turns on the music. As soon as it starts Craggy, his eyes laser focused on Windy, starts bouncing to the beat. As soon as he starts singing, Windy is all in. She starts bobbing her head and tapping her foot. Craggy shakes around and gyrates as he mouths the words.

Suddenly, Windy shoots up out of Tiffany’s chair and screams. This only serves to fuel Craggy more. He swings his hips, he poses, he swings his hips some more. Windy jumps up and down as if in a fever. Craggy moves in, looks her in the eye and continues his routine. Windy, unable to resist any longer throws her arms around his neck and kisses him. Startled, Craggy jumps back, regains his composure and finishes the song. Windy faints.

“Adams,” Martin says. “Go get Windy some water.”

“Now’s your chance,” Sloan whispers.

Adams nods and rushes out the door.

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: TAR (2022)-PEACOCK

This week’s film boasts one of the best if not the best performance of 2022. Kate Blanchet is riveting as the lead character Lydia Tar, a fictional maestro who is about to record the performance of a lifetime. Lydia is ambitious, brilliant, driven, gifted, arrogant and manipulative. The question is if she wasn’t all these things, good, bad, and otherwise, would she have gotten as far as she has in her career? The world, especially the western world wants to believe good people do wonderful things instead of bad people sometimes do great things. And the first order of business is to punish them because human beings haven’t figured out a better way to handle them. If one could extract all the good Harvey Weinstein did for movies and separate it from all the pure evil deeds he carried out, how much better would film be now?

Lydia is a brilliant conductor/composer who is about to record Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 as the first female principal music director of the Berlin Philharmonic. At the same time, she is about to release her long awaited memoir. But as her recording date draws closer, the seams around the fabric of her brilliance begin to tear. An apprentice of hers commits suicide and all the arrows begin to turn Lydia’s direction. The arrows become sharper as she discovers a young new talent in her midst, cellist Olga Metkina (Sophie Kauer). Jealousy and frustration grow for both Lydia’s partner violinist Sharon Goodnow (Nina Hoss) and Tar’s long suffering assistant Francesca Lentini (Noémie Merlant) who are both aware of Lydia’s recent and long buried dirty little secrets.