Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter four of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Today, I have been drugged. It is a most unpleasant experience. Because I apparently have a neurotic distemper which caused me to end up in the emergency hospital. I must take medication to avoid another grooming accident. Therefore, a few hours before I am due at the groomer’s, my novelist has given me what we shall refer to as “magic peanut butter”. The first concoction the vet came up with did not affect me much at all and my novelist was concerned I would end up wiggling around as it were and wind up getting cut again. When it comes to medication, I am a heavyweight you see. And so, she went back to the veterinarian, and he gave her a new concoction which has had a slightly stronger effect. To test it my novelist had me take the medication and after two hours went by, I went for a ride in the car, an activity which I loathe. After the ride my novelist decided that this second concoction was strong enough to allow me to have partial grooming rectified and thus, I am being returned to the groomer to restore me to my beautiful self. And so, I am presently lying on the bed and relaxing as my novelist waits for the medication to take effect and then I shall…be…whisked off to that place I dread…I dread almost as much as…as the vet. Until…then…I…shall…I shall…introduce chapter…chapter…four of my…story…Certified Sadistic Accountant…ZZZ…woof…ZZZ…

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Four

Curtis had one luxury in life: a Yorkshire Terrier who had been the litter’s runt. He’d purchased the pup for half the asking price of its other brothers and sisters and named it Haven. Curtis originally wanted a larger dog, a medium sized dog even. But the five-pound Haven and he hit it off so well it was love at first sight. Curtis couldn’t imagine any other dog in his life. She was his most precious possession.

When Curtis wasn’t at work, he and Haven went everywhere together. In the warm months he would drive her to Mountain Crest Park and walk her around the pond. They would stop at a picnic table and have lunch and he would teach her tricks. In the cold months he bought her a soft wool sweater and took her to the Christmas tree lighting downtown. He even snuck her into the local theatre a couple of times by hiding her in his jacket. When the lights went down, she would crawl out and curl up on his lap quietly as he treated her with the occasional kernel of popcorn. Haven always started out sleeping at the foot of Curtis’s bed. But in the middle of the night, she would curl up beside him. Occasionally she would hear coyotes howling and she’d cuddle closer.

Curtis was certain Bexley would love Haven almost as much as he did, even though she owned three Siamese cats she’d trained as attack animals. Bexley came into work one morning talking about how the trio of felines had mistaken the pizza delivery guy for an assailant and chased him up a tree. The pizza parlor did not sue Bexley, but she did agree never to have an order delivered from them again.

When Curtis came home from work on Monday, April Fool’s Day, Haven trotted up to him, put her paw on his leg and wagged her tail gleefully. “Don’t worry,” Curtis told his furry companion. “As soon as Bexley gets back from spring break, I’ll ask her out on a date, and you’ll get to meet her cats and the three of you will become the best of friends.”

He gave Haven a pat and then went into his kitchen to make dinner. A year ago, Curtis would have a TV dinner to put in the microwave or the oven. But now he’d learned to be a relatively proficient cook and chose to make clam pasta that evening. He reached into his grocery back and took out a package of whole grain angel hair pasta, a bag of white mushrooms, a shallot, a pack of clams from the seafood department, a pound of Roma Tomatoes, a bunch of parsley, and a jar of capers.

Curtis chopped up the shallots, mushrooms, garlic, tomatoes, and parsley. He put some olive oil in a pan and sautéed the shallots, mushrooms, and garlic. Then he added in the clams and put some water on to boil. He shook some salt and pepper over the sauce and stirred it. When the water began to boil, he put in a fistful of the angel hair pasta. Then he finished the sauce with the parsley and capers.

Haven trotted into the kitchen to investigate the delightful aroma. She sniffed at the air and let out a happy bark as Curtis removed a baguette from his grocery bag, snatched a bread knife out of his wooden block and sliced three pieces of the loaf.  Haven cocked her head to one side as he buttered it.

After dinner Curtis sat on his leather love set, he’d purchased at a local furniture store when he’d moved into the duplex. Haven jumped up on the couch to join him and they were about to watch an action movie when Curtis’s phone rang. It was his dad. This surprised him as his parents hadn’t called for weeks. He was reluctant to answer it as he had really wanted to see this movie, but he picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

“Hello, Curt, this is dad.”

“Hi, dad.”

“I just wanted to call to ask if you could do us a favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“You know your Aunt Odette? The one who owns a cabin out on Big Lake?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, your aunt has three paintings up there: one in the living room and one in each bedroom.”

“Those old oil paintings?”

“Yes, those. She was wondering if you could go up there this weekend and pick them up for her. You would need to wrap them up. She said she had some packaging supplies in the attic that would work.”

Curtis rolled his eyes. “What does she need the paintings for?”

“Apparently, she had the paintings appraised recently and they’re somewhat valuable. She wants to sell them at this auction. I’ll drive up to your place next week, pick them up and take them to her.”

“Dad, it’s tax season. I can’t just go galivanting off to Big Lake.”

“Yes, I know it’s tax season, but we really need your help on this. Your aunt wants them soon and she can’t get up there right now.”

“Why not?”

“She’s doing some sort of conference in Nova Scotia, and she just can’t make it.”

Curtis did a Picard palm face. “Alright, dad. I’ll go up to Aunt Odette’s cabin on Big Lake and pack up these…oil paintings and bring them back to my humble abode. But you’ll have to pick them up after I get home from work because I’m busy.”

“Alright, son. I’ll drop by in a week from Wednesday. I’ll get there in the evening, say seven. Does that work for you?”  

“Yeah, seven works. I’ll call you if I’m running late.”

“Sounds fantastic. I really appreciate this, son. “Your aunt will be so happy.”

“Okay, dad. I’ll see you a week from Wednesday. Tell mom hi for me.”

“I will. See you then, Curt.”

“Bye, dad.”

Curtis’s dad hung up and Haven laid her chin on Curtis’s elbow. “I have no idea how I’m going to get the time to do this, Haven,” Curtis said. “I mean this is tax season crazy time. Couldn’t they wait a couple weeks? Why do they have to do this right now. I mean Aunt Odette has had years to sell those things. But she asks my dad to fetch them now?”

Haven looked up at Curtis with sympathetic eyes. Curtis sighed, gave her a gentle pat on the head, picked up the remote and shut off the television.

“I’ll go work now,” he grumbled. “And I’ve been looking forwards to this movie.”

He picked up his little Yorkie and set her aside. Then he got up, slogged into his bedroom, and sat down at his desk. Haven hopped off the couch and trotted into Curtis’s bedroom to comfort her beloved owner.  

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: THE BIG LEBOWSKI (1998)-NETFLIX

This week’s movie is a great blast from the past all fans of the Cohen brothers should see and pretty much everyone else as well. I had forgotten how hilarious the film is and how great it still looks to this day, including the famous cardigan sweater designed by Pendelton. The story starts out with our narrator The Stranger (Sam Elliot) who tells us about a legend called The Dude (Jeff Bridges in an iconic role) who is an out of work laid back California guy who hangs out with his friends and fellow bowlers Theodore Donald ‘Donny’ Kerabatsos (Steve Buscemi) and Walter Sobchak (John Goodman in a fantastic performance). One day he is rudely awakened by a couple of thieves who break into his humble abode and mistake him for The Big Lebowski and foul his precious rug. Upset by the occurrence, The Dude (whose last name is also Lebowski) heads for the house of the wealthy The Big Lebowski (David Huddleston) and demands he pay to have his precious rug cleaned as The Big Lebowski was the one the criminals were after in the first place. The Dude is welcomed at the door by The Big Lebowski’s assistant Brandt (Philip Seymor Hoffman) and when The Dude meets Lebowski, Lebowski refuses to pay a dime. However, Lebowski does, after a few days, have Brandt contact The Dude concerning his trophy wife Bunny (Tarra Reed). Apparently, she was kidnaped by a trio of nihilists (Peter Stormare, Flea, and Torston Vogus) and they are demanding a ransom. The Big Lebowski wants The Dude to be his bag man.

In the meantime, Donny, Walter, and The Dude find themselves facing stiff competition in their bowling tournament against a team whose star player is Jesus Quintana (John Turturo in a scene stealing performance. In fact, the first scene between Quintana and the three guys is one of my all-time favorites). And The Dude finds himself contacted by Lebowski’s feminist adult daughter and artist Maude Lebowski (Julianne Moore) who has her own take on the kidnapping.

Happy Thanksgiving! It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter three of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. I must tell you Thanksgiving has been most distressing. My novelist gave me one task: find Butterflake rolls for our Thanksgiving feast. I could not find them anywhere. Everywhere I searched there were plenty of other rolls: King’s Hawaiian rolls, dinner rolls, hard rolls, variety bag rolls. I could find every roll except Butterflake rolls. I was at my wits end. I employed the Maltese…

Gigi employed me. I am Tucker and I am a Maltese.

Yes, yes, yes. They know you are a Maltese. Anyway, I hired an Uber to drive us to all the different grocery stores to look for Butterflake rolls as poodles are not allowed to have driver’s licenses. This still irritates me. That said, I trotted into each store’s bakery department and bread aisle and searched everywhere. Shoppers kept coming up and wanting to pet me. It was more than a little rude. I merely dodged them and let them pet Tucker instead.

They pet me and it was good.

No one cares. Anyway, I checked all the bakeries and bread aisles in vain. Just as I was about to give up and use this blog as a soapbox on which to rant about the absence of Butterflake rolls from Thanksgiving, I finally located them in the bakery of the last grocery store I checked. They must have just put them out. They are different than the Butterflake rolls I am used to which have vertical sections. These are shaped more like a cinnamon roll or a whirligig with a spiral structure. They looked tasty enough so I brough them home. They are being put in the oven even as I write.

To all the grocery stores out there, I beseech you. Please do not deny me Butterflake rolls ever again during the holidays. They are the finishing touch to any holiday feast.

Yum, yum.

Hush up. Here is chapter three of Certified Sadistic Accountant. I wish you a joyful Thanksgiving dinner…hopefully with Butterflake rolls.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Three

Bexley turned and tromped over to the receptionist’s desk in her combat boots, her stack of bracelets jangling as she went. She grabbed the key and as she headed over to open the front doors, someone came tapping on the glass. Bexley peered outside and saw a familiar face. Fia Dupree, the 4.0 college student and daughter of Mr. Dallas Dupree stood there as the driver of a cab was unloading her blush colored Tumi luggage out of the trunk.

“Daddy!” she squealed as she rushed through the doors, saw Dallas, and ran towards him with open arms. Fia wore a rose-colored long-sleeved Steve Madden fit & flair mini dress, an olive-colored corduroy baseball cap, and hot pink Converse high-tops. Rhinestone Ettika earrings sparkled from her earlobes. Under her cap her blonde hair was set in large curls and long lush mink fur fake eyelashes adorned her lids.

“I thought your mother was picking you up from the train,” Dallas said somewhat confused.

“I wanted to surprise you, daddy. Besides, I think it’s fun to see where you’ve worked all my life. I remember coming here when I was a little girl and watching you do taxes.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I remember coming here on Halloween and dressing up as a pixy or a witch and giving out candy from my Halloween bag to all the accountants.”

“I don’t remember that at all,” Lance said. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Makenna gave Lance a nasty look.

“You were in grade school, Lexington,” Mr. Dupree growled. 

From his desk, Curtis studied Fia. She looked different from the last time he’d seen her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. “Congratulations on your 4.0,” he said to her.

Fia turned and looked at Curtis. He was that creepy looking nerdy guy her dad had hired a few years ago. “Thanks,” she said.

“We’d love to have you here, buttercup,” Mr. Dupree told her. “But its tax season you see.”

“I know,” Fia said a little disheartened. “I just thought it would be super fun to surprise you.”

“I’m sure the taxi driver is waiting for you. Tell him you’ve decided to go to the train station and tip him well.”

“Well…I guess I’ll go meet mom,” she said. “I’ll text her and let her know where I am.”

“Awe, let her stay,” Lance said. “We didn’t hire anyone this year as a temp accountant and the desk in the back is vacant.”

Dallas turned and glared at Lance. He did not want his daughter hanging around the office. “It would be best for Fia to head home. Best for everyone. She’s had a long quarter.”

“I get the hint, dad,” Fia said irritated. “I’m heading back out to the taxi. She turned, her blonde curls bobbing on her shoulders. 

“You know, Dallas,” Bexley said.

“Mr. Dupree,” Dallas said.

“You could hire your daughter to take my place while I’m gone.”

“Take your place?” Fia asked, turning back around.

“I’m going on spring break and your dad says he’s going to have a hard time getting a temp to fill in for me. But you know the office and the clientele well. You’ve been coming here on and off all your life. You could be the temporary receptionist while I’m gone.”

“That sounds…”

“No,” Mr. Dupree said. “Fia’s been working hard all quarter. She needs the rest.”

“I’ve been working hard too,” Bexley said. “I need a break too. You think it’s easy working for you? We get a real suck-fest of clients slogging in here telling me to smile more and wear more professional clothes. Firstly, these are professional clothes and secondly, do I look like the kind of person who smiles? There’s no way I’m going to smile at those fake and bake tanned sleaze-bag lawyers or that one farmer who always leans into the desk and tells me how good I smell. What does he think I am, an apple pie?”

“I think it would be fun,” Fia said, a lilt in her voice.

Mr. Dupree glared at Bexley. If she wasn’t such a good receptionist, he’d fire her on the spot. “The rest of my accountants agree with me. Fia should take the week off and you shouldn’t be running off to spring break.”

“I always worked during my spring break,” Curtis said. “That’s how I helped pay my way through college.

“Shut up, Cook!” Mr. Dupree snapped.

“I think it would be a great idea for your daughter to work here, sir.”

“This is going to be so much fun, daddy,” Fia said clapping her hands.

“Then we’re settled,” Bexley said. “I’ll start packing tonight.”

“It’s a dream come true,” Fia said.

“It’s going to be a nightmare,” Mr. Dupree muttered.

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: TWAS THE FIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS (2023)-APPLE TV+

This week’s pick is a documentary about a lawyer who wants to decorate his house with many, many lights and decorations and invite anyone who wants to swing by, and he’ll supply hot chocolate, cotton candy and other goodies. But his local Homeowner Association does not want him to do it. Seems like a lightweight silly story. Except it’s not. It’s a microcosm of present-day America and at times its downright chilling. An examination of a wolf or wolves who wear sheep’s clothing.

The tale takes place in Idaho in a quiet neighborhood where every house is a McMansion. Jeremy Morris is a lawyer who starts out by showing us his storage unit neatly packed with an abundance of Christmas ornaments, some which he inherited and others which he purchased himself. That is how many decorations this guy has. Even though he lives in a McMansion he still needs a neatly arranged but near full storage unit to store his Christmas decorations. He is fascinated not just by Christmas but also by American Heritage motifs. And he says his mission in life is to save Christmas. He claims his hero is Clark Griswald from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. He also appears to like The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. It is unclear, however, if he has ever seen or was inspired by A Charlie Brown Christmas or The Little Drummer Boy. Jeremy is a graduate of Liberty University School of Law. He originally wanted the documentary to be a multiple part series and contacted the director Becky Reed on more than one occasion to let her know.

Prior to Jeremy and his wife and three young children moving into the opulent Idaho neighborhood, Jeremy had a house in the city limits where he abundantly decorated it with lights and decorations. He invited an extensive crowd of holiday revelers to come view it. He didn’t, however, want or thought he needed to get a permit for his festivity which, after he decided to advertise it online began getting hundreds of hits. And so, he and his wife decided to find a house outside of the city limits to host an even larger Christmas event.

Jeremy and his wife did not purchase a farmhouse on a large piece of property with no one around for acres. Nor did they purchase a large empty lot with no one around for acres and build a house on it. Instead, they chose a house in a Homeowner Association neighborhood where all the residents who live there have a document of laws they agree to live by and depend on the same streets to get in and out. A fair number of said residents are retired.

Interviews with Jeremy’s parents tell us what Jeremy was like as a child, what his childhood was like, and his lifelong ambitions. I would encourage you to carefully watch the last scene with them and listen intently to what they have to say about their son.

Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce the second chapter of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week my novelist had me do a test drive on some new medication so that when I go into get my grooming, I will not have another mishap. The medication is designed to help me relax more and not be as high-strung. We poodles are quite high-strung, but I am higher-strung than most. I detest travel and as my novelist needed to go somewhere this weekend, I accompanied her. I took my medication a couple of hours before we left to see if the dosage the veterinarian suggested worked. It did not. I was not phased at all. I was in complete charge of my faculties. My novelist was aghast. She was hoping the quarter pill the doctor prescribed would be sufficient for me as it is a rather large and potent pill, and I only weigh six pounds. But apparently, I am a heavyweight, and my novelist must call the veterinarian to ask how much more she can up my dosage. In the meantime, I was given a bath which was awful but not as awful as usual as my novelist tried to make it short, calming, and succinct. This I was grateful for. I relaxed the rest of the day writing in the late afternoon to prepare for my blog post. And so, here it is, chapter two of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Disfrutar!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Two

Right after Sport left, the door opened and two of the accountants, Grady, and Irwin, entered the agency. They were each carrying a pastel-colored cup with “The Steamed Bean” printed on them with an Easter Bunny below the words.

“Hey, Cook the Books,” Grady said. “How’s it hanging?”

“It’s hanging well,” Curtis replied. “I think it’s going to be an outstanding tax season.”

“Think you might win the big prize this year?”

“I think we’re all hoping to win the big prize,” Curtis said forcing a smile.

Grady grinned at Irwin who grinned back. “Yeah, you keep hoping, Cook,” Irwin said and took a pull off his coffee.

Just then the other two accountants Makenna and Lance strolled into the office. They too each carried a pastel cup with “The Steamed Bean” printed on it with a little yellow chick below the words.

“Sup dudes,” Lance said running his fingers through his freshly cut hair. Lance always had his hair cut at Satin, a barbershop for men where the stylists were young women who wore bikinis. “Where’s the big guy?”

“Mr. Dupree is up in his office,” Curtis said.

“You would know, wouldn’t you Cook the Books. Say, what time do you get here every day? “You’re always here before the rest of us.”

“I…just try to be prompt.”

“I think you’re more than prompt. I don’t think you have anything else to do with your time.”

“I have lots of things to do with my time,” Curtis said absentmindedly picking up a Rubik’s Cube off his desk and fiddling with it.   

“Yeah? What did you do last night after you got home from work?”

“I walked in the door and fixed myself something to drink.”

“What did you drink?”

“I made myself a cup of Citron Green Tea.”

“That’s not a drink, Cook.”

“Sure, it is. It’s a beverage.”

“A shot of bourbon is a drink. A glass of scotch is a drink. A pina colada is a drink. Citron Green Tea is not a drink.”

Curtis narrowed his eyes. Lance was a grade A jerk. “Citron Green Tea is good for you. I like to live a healthy life.”

“But you don’t live much, do you?”

“What did you do after you fixed your tea?” Makenna asked with a smirk.

“I looked over my finances,” Curtis said.

“How are your finances doing?”

“Quite well, actually.” Curtis smiled at Makenna who stared him down like he was a rat. This caused Curtis to sink low into his chair.

Just then Bexley the receptionist hurried inside. She shook out her skull patterned umbrella and tossed it into the large metal umbrella holder by the receptionist desk. The group of accountants turned towards her and saw it had started to pour down rain outside.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” she said setting her pastel cup with “The Steamed Bean” printed on the front with a picture of a duck underneath the words.

Bexley stomped behind the receptionist desk in her combat boots and straightened her ankle-length skirt. “Is Dupree in yet?”

“He’s upstairs,” Curtis told her.

“I need to talk to him,” she said, fiddling with the jingly bracelet-stack on her arm.

“What about?” Lance asked.

“I’m going on spring break.”

“But it’s tax season. We need a receptionist.”

“Dupree can get a substitute receptionist. It’s not like this job requires thinking or something.”

“Is this an April Fool’s joke?” Makenna asked.

“No, this is not an April Fool’s joke.”

“Good morning, troops,” Dallas Dupree said opening the door of his upstairs office and dancing down the stairs. “Are we ready to have a great tax season?”

“I need to talk to you, Dupree,” Bexley said marching up to him.

“Mr. Dupree,” he said correcting her. “Come up to my office.”

“Here’s fine.”

“Okay. Let her rip.”

“I’m going on spring break.”

“Spring break? What do you mean spring break? It’s tax season!”

“I’m leaving for Palm Springs on Thursday.”

“Thursday?”

“There’ll be a lot more people at the airport on Friday. Besides the Thursday flight was cheaper.”

“Is this an April Fool’s joke?”

“No, this is not an April Fool’s joke.”

Mr. Dupree turned to the group of accountants. “Is this an April Fool’s joke?”

“No, this is not an April Fool’s Joke,” they said in unison.

“Let me get this straight. Our receptionist has decided during the busiest time of the year to take off for Palm Springs and take part in spring break. Come to your senses, Bexley. Wait until May. It’s a beautiful time to take a vacation and you could avoid the crowds at Palm Springs or almost anywhere else that time of year.”

“Look, Dupree…”

“Mr. Dupree.”

“…if I want any chance of finding a boyfriend, and let’s face it this place isn’t exactly rolling in eligible bachelors, I need to go on spring break.”

“Spring break is the worst place and time to find a boyfriend. All anyone does at spring break destinations is hook up and party.”

“You know that from personal experience, Dupree?”

“Mr. Dupree and that isn’t the point. The point is you are being remarkably selfish and unprofessional. When you took this job, you knew this was a tax accounting agency and that tax time almost always occurs in April. I need you to be managing the front desk at this time of year taking phone calls and greeting clients.”

“My priorities have shifted. I’ve decided I’m too young not to have a social life. Besides, you could just hire a temp while I’m away.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to hire a temp these days?”

“You hired me as a temp, didn’t you?”

“Originally, but…”

“It’s only for a week.”

“It’s almost time to open the doors,” Dallas said exasperated. “Get to work at the receptionist desk and we’ll discuss this later.”

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: A HAUNTING IN VENICE (2023)-HULU

This week’s pick is a good old fashioned ghost story adapted from the book Hallowe’en Party by Agatha Christie. Sir Kenneth Branagh has been reintroducing the Hercule Poirot character to modern movie audiences starting in 2017 with Murder on the Orient Express, and later with Death on the Nile in 2022 . A Haunting in Venice is probably my favorite so far. The film deviates a bit from the novel. Set in Venice, the story begins with the famed opera singer Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly) hosting a seance to try and speak to her young adult daughter who drowned. Retired detective Hercule Poirot (Sir Kenneth Branagh) is urged to go to the party by his friend, famed mystery writer Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey). Oliver has been trying to expose nurse turned medium Joyce Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh) but cannot figure out how she performs her seances and hopes Hercule might be able to figure it out.

Reluctantly, Poirot goes to the séance, skeptical of Reynold’s ability to talk to the deceased. Poirot arrives to find out that the home Rowena Drake lives in is supposedly haunted by children. At first, he is suspicious of the experience, until one of the members of the party is murdered and he begins to see a little girl appear to him in different parts of the house who looks like she could be Rowena’s daughter.

The film is wonderfully moody and has a gorgeous set design by John Paul Kelly and beautiful cinematography by Haris Zambarloukos. Branagh’s directing is top notch as always and all the performances are first rate. A classy mystery for grownups. 

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

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have the croissants arrived yet?”

“Not yet.”

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

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

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

“It’s her senior year, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

“You must be very proud.”

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

“What degree is Wingnut, sir?”

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

“Is she heading off to grad school?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: AMERICAN BEAUTY (1999)-NETFLIX

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good evening. It is I Gigi the parti poodle returning to the blog after my most unfortunate grooming mishap. My wound required six stitches and my novelist had to put ice on it for three days. She insisted on putting ice on it for five. I found that to be a bit extreme. I must say I was most embarrassed to have that wretched Maltese introduce my blog last week, but upon having to take medication to heal, I did not believe I was in the right frame of mind with which to face my audience. As you can imagine, I was not pleased with the photo that furry little menace put up, what with me only half groomed and wearing that retched blue cone of shame. I appear a bit like Two-Face from the Batman comics with the present state of my hair. It’s monstrous. It is a good thing it was Halloween on Tuesday. Since I’d been healing for a week, I was able to bark non-stop at the costumed revelers who came to our door asking for treats. It lifted my spirits immensely. Now that I am almost fully healed, I will return to preparing my next story. During this short interim, my novelist has been most gracious to pen a short essay on the classic television show Moonlighting which is now streaming on Hulu, and this week she has three films she is recommending viewing all which are presently on streaming services. So, without further ado, here is my novelist.

STREAM OF THE WEEK #1: THEATER CAMP (2023)-HULU

This week’s first pick is a funny irreverent look at a kids’ theatre camp and the wacky people who run it. The story starts out with the founder of the camp AdirondACTS Joan Rubinsky (Amy Sedaris) and her business partner Rita Cohen (Caroline Aaron) going around recruiting kids for their camp. During a performance with some of their die-hard camp goers there are strobe lights which cause Joan to have a seizure. While Joan is in a coma in the hospital her adult son Troy Rubinsky (Jimmy Tatro) takes over the camp. Troy, who is knowledgeable about business but has no interest in theatre whatsoever, finds himself a misfit amongst the misfit theatre kids. The staff, including two long-time former theatre camp stars Amos (Ben Platt) and Rebecca-Diane (Molly Gordon) who easily relate to the kids help run the theatre part of the camp while Troy comes to find AdirondACTS is in financial dire straits.

As Troy struggles with his mother’s financial jeopardy, he meets Caroline Krauss (Patty Harrison) a young businesswoman. She represents the firm Barnswell Capital who owns the neighboring upscale lakeside camp nearby. Krauss tells Troy Barnswell Capitol wishes to buy AdirondACTS and help Troy and his mother Joan avoid foreclosure. But third generation technical director Glenn Winthrop (Noah Gavin), a secretly talented performer warns Troy that Caroline may be more ruthless than she seems and tries to help Troy earn money for the camp to keep the bank at bay.

In the meantime, Amos and Rebecca-Diane prepare to write the major play for the summer, Joan, Still, a musical biography about their beloved camp founder. The two have a complicated relationship. When they were kids in the camp Rebecca-Diane fell in love with Amos who came out to her. They both auditioned for Juilliard together and neither ended up attending. As they cast the show and proceed to finish the script, Amos finds Rebecca-Diane growing more and more distant.

STREAM OF THE WEEK #2: SWEET VIRGINIA (2017)-HULU

This week’s second pick is an independent neo-noir film set in a small town in Virginia. The story centers around former rodeo star Sam Rossi (Jon Bernthal) who is suffering from long term injuries from the sport. He inherited a small motel from his brother, which he runs between his drug addiction and late-night rendezvous with the married Bernedette Barrett (Rosemary DeWitt). Then one evening a peculiar triple homicide occurs at a restaurant outside of town where Bernedette’s husband, the café owner, and the young husband of Bernedette’s young friend Lila McCabe (Imogene Poots) inexplicably occurs. The killer, a young unstable man named Elwood (creepily played by Christopher Abbot), happens to be staying at Rossi’s motel as the mystery behind the murders begins to unfold. Although the film starts out a little odd (why does the owner of the café keep the door unlocked while the place is closed and he’s having a meeting and why is there still money in the till) it starts to pick up and turns into an interesting and tense little sleeper.

STREAM OF THE WEEK #3: EMILY (2022)-SHOWTIME

This third pick is a thoughtful and gorgeous looking film from writer director Frances O’Connor. No, this is not a true biopic as it is considered a reimagination of how Emily Brontë came to write her landmark classic novel Wuthering Heights. In fact, it is believed by scholars that Emily Brontë never fell in love. And yes, I might have preferred a film that was more historically accurate and had the lead look more like Brontë really looked (light brown hair and cornflower blue eyes as we can see in the painting by her brother Branwell completed in 1834). But that said, as a story it works and is a true pleasure to watch.

On her deathbed, Emily Brontë (Emma MacKey in a terrific performance) is asked by her sister Charlotte (Alexandra Dowling) how she came to write her novel Wuthering Heights. We then go back through Emily’s would-be tumultuous young adult life. After the death of the Brontë sibling’s mother, Emily struggles with grief and trying to find a way to gain her father’s respect. Emily, Charlotte tells her, is known in the village as “the strange one” due to her lack of social skills. Emily, in real life, was thought to have been an INTJ and we introverted NTs are terrible at social skills but tend to excel in areas we are gifted in and have a passion for. Meanwhile, her father Patrick Brontë has brought in a new curate William Weightman (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), to his church, a young pious and conflicted man who does not know what to make of the Brontë family, especially the brooding young Emily.

Emily is encouraged by her father to become a teacher like her sister Charlotte and goes off to teach with her at an all-girls school. But Emily’s introverted nature does not lend itself well to the job and she ends up returning home not knowing what to do with her life. But she turns out to find solace and newfound delight in spending time with her troubled brother Branwell (Fionn Whitehead) who after deciding to passionately pursue studies at the Royal Academy of Arts quits, returns home, and chooses to try writing as a career. Branwell encourages Emily to write and live a passionate life which brings unexpected joy into her otherwise dour world. But when their father catches wind of their spiraling hijinks, things take a turn for the turbulent.  

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!

Hello. My name is Tucker, and I am a Maltese. You are probably wondering why I am introducing this week’s blog. It is because Gigi had an accident. Gigi is a poodle and poodles are neurotic…although I only know one poodle and that’s Gigi. But as far as I know they are neurotic and wiggle around. She went in to get groomed and she wiggled around wrong, and the groomer accidentally cut the back of Gigi’s neck with the grooming sheers. The groomer called our novelist and said Gigi should probably go to the vet or the doggie hospital and likely needed stitches. My novelist went over to the groomers, picked up Gigi, and called our vet who said they couldn’t fit her to the schedule. So, we headed over to the animal hospital where a very likable vet put Gigi under a light sedation, and he stitched her up and sent her home. Gigi now must take magic peanut butter twice a day and is…I’m going to use a big word now: lethargic. This is a good thing. I like her this way. She is not as mean. I hope she gets well soon but I hope she learns not to be so mean. Especially if she is getting groomed. While Gigi is recovering, she and our novelist are taking time off to help Gigi to get ready to write her newest story. Below is a picture of Gigi recovering. And now here is this week’s blog. I think I did a good job introducing this week’s blog and deserve a treat. I would like a treat now.

Everything I Needed to Know About Writing I Learned From Moonlighting

Of all the television shows I’ve ever seen, nothing but nothing is like Glen Gordon Caron’s Moonlighting. Anytime you see a musical number, a dance number, a dream sequence, an episode shot in black and white, an episode from a baby’s point of view, characters breaking the fourth wall, characters breaking and not breaking character in cold openings, or (and you rarely ever see this) a Shakespeare episode on a television show, you can thank this screwball comedy drama masterpiece. And finally, finally, it is back on television, remastered and streaming on Hulu. If you are a writer, it is an absolute must-see as this was one of the very first successful dramedies. I was fortunate enough to have gotten my hands on the DVDs a while back so I could view them while all the petty rights to this and that and that and this were resolved, and this glorious quirky highly imaginative show could once again be aired. Just about any convention in television that existed before 1985, Moonlighting broke including bringing back the wonderful rapid-fire, overlapping dialogue originated by the stage play The Front Page which you may know better as the Howard Hawks movie His Gal Friday. Moonlighting didn’t invent overlapping dialogue, they reinvented it.

The one thing no one has ever been able to recreate, including Caron himself, was the incredible chemistry between Cybil Shephard and Bruce Willis (both ESTPs by the way). Many shows have tried, all have failed. The two actors were so believable as smart sophisticated former model Madeline Hayes and breezy wisecracking detective David Addison, it was scary. With Caron and his writing staff there to fuel the two stars with unparalleled dialogue and whimsical situations, no one could match them. And no one ever has except maybe the father son relationship in Breaking Bad between Walter White (Brian Cranston) and Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul). In addition to Maddie and David, the Blue Moon Detective agency’s quirky receptionist Miss Agnus Dipesto (Allyce Beasley) and temp agency employee turned junior detective Herbert Quentin Viola (Curtus Armstrong) and the acerbic MacGillicudy (Jack Blessing) round out the cast with strong performances.  Moonlighting was and is pure magic.  

When I originally saw the pilot for Moonlighting, I was hooked. And by episode four, I knew there was no going back. That’s when you start to see the show’s writers find their rythem and the chemistry kick in between the two leads. The lines are so droll and so cleverly delivered you must watch episodes multiple times to catch all the jokes. And believe me these are some hilarious bawdy jokes. Today’s shows would just use expletives to be funny. But in 1985 shows couldn’t do that without getting fined by the FCC. And so, much like Hitchcock, they had to find ways around it to get their point across which requires more finesse and clever thinking than just being blunt. Any writer can pen blue. It takes a skilled one to pen inuendo. Not to mention the characters had manners and often addressed each other with Mr. and Ms. before the surname, said “please” and “thank you” and “no thank you” and “excuse me” which may seem blasé in today’s world. And grant it, the world was more formal in 1985. But any smart actor or writer will tell you elevating your character makes for a more interesting performance.  

Something the show doesn’t get enough praise for are its more philosophical episodes. In fictional writing, a lot of emphasis is put on “show don’t tell” which works great…to a point. However, not enough is put on discussion and debate. And sometimes a dialogue driven debate outplays a scene of action. For instance, one episode has the leads discuss the subject of stalking, another has them arguing about domestic abuse, and yet another has them debating the pros and cons of assisted suicide. And all these scenes are riveting without an explosion, a stylized fight, or a car crash in sight. I wish more shows would allow their characters to discuss thoughtful topics than trying to always go for action. Or worse yet, make their character drive home how right they are about some subject instead of exploring the possibility there may be more than one side to an argument. Some shows are great at hooking the ending to keep the viewers coming back these days but may not infuse much thought or depth along the way.

There is one outstanding Moonlighting episode in particular which has a somewhat controversial surprise ending that probably led to a lot of conversations around the water coolers. About halfway through the episode there is a gorgeous monologue Maddie’s character has where she has made an unexpected choice. The monologue has her literally debating with both David and her inner thoughts at the same time. A lot of monologues now are one sided with a character driving home whatever point the writer is trying to make to support the premise of the story. In contrast, this scene has Maddie’s character analyzing her choice and playing an array of active beats: apologizing, begging, charming, persuading, requesting, and seducing all while simply sitting and talking and letting stillness, tension and thought enchant the viewer.

One of the best scenes ever written for the small screen is the final scene in Season Three Episode Fourteen. What they do here that is so remarkable is take their time. The scene runs almost eleven minutes long without a break allowing the tension to build to its explosive conclusion. I hate any scene that gets rushed or cut off at the end. There are so many scenes filmed on television and in movies for that matter where the scene is too short, gets cut off at the end or is rushed through with a lot of annoying camera work. And there is no excuse now to ever rush a scene with the way television shows are made having less episodes and more runtime. It’s better to take the risk, do the work, play the scene out all the way to the end and never miss or extract a single beat. These near eleven minutes are a slow burn, never rushing the writing, editing direction, or acting. Every beat is played out to the fullest. They let the pauses in between the lines run the full time they need. It’s like watching a great scene in a stage play. The scene would have worked best had it not premiered until the final season and if that had happened perhaps the show would have had a longer run. And the audience would have been joyous had it been slotted that way. But just looking at the scene alone, just the scene all by itself, it is extraordinary. 

It’s also important to point out the costumes and sets in the show are fantastic. They give the characters class and really immerse the viewer in the world. The eighties had a more unique style to it than the present day so that certainly helped. But the imagination and thought that went into what the characters wore and the surroundings they found themselves in helped give the show a certain je ne sais quoi all brought together by the outstanding cinematography that gave it its signature look.

When you do watch Moonlighting, I would humbly suggest focusing on the show and not on your phone at the same time. There were no smart phones in 1985 and so the show assumed the audience would pay full attention when watching it. If you don’t, you’ll miss not only the dialogue but the little bits and asides they do throughout and that would be cheating yourself out of this television gem.

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!

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Dad?” I said desperate to see.

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

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

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

“Briar!” my mom yelled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad!”

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

“Mom, she’s coming!”

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

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

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can.”

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

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

Dr. Grosser grabbed my arm.

“Two…”

Dr. Grosser took the cap off the syringe.

“Three!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed you.”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

“Meow.”

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

“That’s a Balinese,” Lyle said.

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

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: THE SHINING (1980)-HBO MAX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Five

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

“Mom, they’re coming.”

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

“He’s in the truck, mom!”

“He’s asking for a ride.”

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

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

“Let’s get out,” my mom said.

“What about that guy back there?”

“He’s playing with the cat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll strike you either way.”

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

“Get out of the truck.”  

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

“Mom!” I yelled. “Mom!”

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

“Come on,” a familiar voice said.

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

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

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

“My mom needs help with that van.”

“They won’t get far.”

“How do you know?”

“I did something to the tires.”

“My mom’s in that van.”

“That’s why I did it.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m your dad.”

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK-YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974)-HBO MAX

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

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

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

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wish I’d worn sneakers.”

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

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

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

“What are we doing here?”

“Waiting for those goons to drive on by.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t even want to know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s huge,” I said.

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

“I’m not sure there is an antidote.”

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

“But we already left the Edevane factory.”

“We’re going back.”

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

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

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

“How?”

“Distract the cat.”

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: A.P. BIO (2018)-Peacock

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

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

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

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Three

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

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

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

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

“You’ve lost your mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re insane!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn left,” the second goon said.

“Bend sinister,” my mom said.”

“What?”

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

“Is that so?”

“It is so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: CACHÈ (HIDDEN) (2005)-TUBI

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

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

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