Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twelve of my story Catzilla. Just to update you my owner has figured out which items she can afford to purchase at the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. This is of great relief to me, as I tire of her long exhausting attempts at frugality. But I know this is not the end. The festivities have only just begun. I may, however, get the opportunity to join her for lunch at the Nordstrom Restaurant I personally am a fan of the Roasted Chicken Salad. What Canis Lupus Familiaris isn’t? My novelist has been trying to get me to order the Sesame Cauliflower and Simple Salad. I merely chuckle at her attempt and will order a side of Crisp Calamari which I will devour whole. If she can drive me insane with her shopping, I can drive her insane with my carnivorous lifestyle. She has made several threats to bring the Maltese along for the occasion to ruin my gastronomical event. But I know she knows better than to elicit my wrath. And with that thought here is chapter twelve of Catzilla. Bon Appetit!  

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twelve

Lyle and I followed Quincy to his house which was two miles away. It stood at the end of a street much like Ellery’s place but not nearly as nice. It looked to have been built in the 1970’s and was stained with a deep saddle brown with dark chocolate trim. It had the strange aura of sinister and cool. The entrance was sunken off to the right side and had a door trimmed with heavy gold-stained glass that blocked visitors from peering inside. Quincy took his key out of his jacket pocket, stuck it in the lock and opened the door.

“Wait here, freaks,” he told us. “Sit over there.”

He pointed to a bench nestled on the right-hand side of the door just out of view. We wheeled our bikes over and leaned them against the house as Quincy strutted inside.

“You think he’s playing us?” I asked Lyle after we sat down.

“Maybe. But it’s worth the chance.”

Lyle sounded optimistic but I remained skeptical. “We are trusting Quincy here.”

“I know.”

From the angle we were at we could see the activity on the street above. After a few moments of nothing happening, an unmarked white van pulled up to the curb. On top of the van was a small antenna like you might see in a campy spy movie. The small ante4nna appeared to twist about attempting to find a signal. Finally, it pointed itself in our direction and stopped.

“Lyle,” I said. “Look.”

Lyle, who had been on his phone scrolling through an article on advanced electrical engineering, looked up at the van. “I think I saw that same van earlier today when I was outside playing tetherball.”

“The antenna’s a little weird.”

“Yeah, it’s for surveillance.”

“Do you think it might be us they’re spying on?”

“Maybe. But it’s more likely interested in the kitten.”

“You think the kitten came all the way out here?”

“Possibly.”

“Why do you think they’re spying on the kitten?”

“Because when I saw the van earlier today that antenna was pointed in the direction of my neighbor’s driveway where the kitten was eating. I think I’ve seen it somewhere else too.”

“Hey, freaks,” Quincy said bursting through the front door. “I’ve got the goods.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an amber vial and shook it like a maraca. “So, Lyle. You owe me a B in Advanced Algebra.”

“I said I’d help you pass. Not pass with flying colors. I think we’d better shoot for a D+ or maybe a C-.”

“No way, freak. You get me a B or your screwed. You get me, dumbass?”

“That wasn’t the agreement,” Lyle said calmly. “It’s too far into the semester to get your grade up to a B.”

“The final is worth half the grade.”

“The final is going to be brutal.”

“Look,” I said. “Split the difference. I’ll bet Lyle could get you a C+.”

“Not likely,” Lyle said.

“Alright,” Quincy said. “It’s better than an F. The school wants to call an F an N now for No Pass. What difference does it make if it’s an F or an N? Do they think I’m too stupid to figure out an N is a failing grade?”

“Euphemisms,” Lyle said.

“What?”

“No Pass or N is a euphemism.”

“N just means F, Lyle. I thought you were smart or something.”

“Thank you for the tranquilizers,” I told Quincy.

“Thanks for the C+.”

Lyle and I got on our bikes and wheeled them up the steep entrance to the street.

“You know I’m going to have to do most of his homework for him,” Lyle said. “Because there’s no way I can get his grade raised from an N to a C+ without helping him cheat.”

“I’ll assist you.”

“I’ll go with you when you tutor him and keep him focused.”

“Uh, yeah. Right. Okay.”

We continued towards the bottom of the hiss to head back to our neighborhood when we spotted the red kitten sitting in Quincy’s neighbor’s driveway eating a bowl of food.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “The kitten actually made it all the way over here.”

“Cats can travel a long way from their home. When my mom was our age, she had a Manx and that tomcat ended up two towns away. Apparently, this guy had a barn and the cat liked to hunt mice in it. The farmer who owned the barn had given the cat a nice little bed inside. He was heartbroken when he found out the cat wasn’t homeless and had an owner. I think he thought whoever owned the cat didn’t want it anymore and cut it loose.”

“Didn’t your mom’s cat have a collar and tags?”

“Yeah, it did. But you know people. They want to believe what they want to believe.

I studied the kitten. “I swear that kitten grew even larger than was when we left it in the driveway.”

“Bigger or not now that we have her in our sites all we have to do is give her the tranquilizer and bug her collar.”

“Should we do it now or try to get her to follow us home?”

“We’ve got her in our sites. Let’s do it now.”

“Do you think we can get up there and put it in her bowl of food?”

“Yeah…although it would be nice if we could, you know, sweeten the pot.”

“What do you mean?”

Lyle reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Kraft caramel square and held it out for me to see. “I think with the two rows of teeth that thing has it can probably consume it if I drop it in his bowl.”

“You thought of everything, Lyle.”

“Why, yes I did.”

Lyle unwrapped the cellophane from the caramel and handed it to me. He opened the vial of pills, shook one out, put the cap back on the bottle, and pressed the tranquilizer into the caramel. He began moving over to the cat who was still engrossed in its food. The creature turned its head towards him, its emerald-green eyes glowing like lasers. It hissed showing its double set of teeth.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he said. He tossed the caramel, but it missed the dish and instead landed just outside of it. The kitty jutted its nose at it and sniffed, her full focus on this unexpected treat. She stuck out her long extensive tongue and snatched it. She chewed it thoughtfully with her sharp double set of teeth lolling over the caramel flavor. She swallowed and continued eating her meal.

Lyle came back over to me, and we stood one house over from Quincy’s observing the kitten. After a moment it began to nod its head. Slowly it slunk down onto its belly. It lay there like a bobblehead sphynx. Then it put its head down on its paws then it began to snore.

Lyle and I crept up to the creature. Lyle began working his magic and attempted to get the small bug attached to the collar. But after a moment he realized he needed to change plans. “We need to take the collar off the kitten. Could you do that for me, Briar?”

I was not thrilled about it, but it needed to be done. “Okay,” I said reluctantly. I knelt and reached for the cat’s collar. Its mouth was open, and she was purring loudly. With the tips of my fingers, I worked the buckle. She stirred. I pulled my fingers back. Way back. Then I continued with my attempt. I worked the leather through the buckle, then pulled the pin out of the hole, then slipped the leather out. I had to hold the collar at one end and gently slip it out from underneath the oversized kitten’s chin. The kitten stirred again and tilted its head to one side so I could see the furry white underside of its chin.

“Here,” I whispered handing the collar to Lyle.

“Awesome,” Lyle said and attached the tiny ring with the dangling metal cube from it to the ring on the cat’s collar. “Here you go.”

“That’s it? You just want me to fasten this thing back on this thing?”

“Yup.”

I shook my head, put the ends of the collar between my fingers and slowly glided it back under the kitten’s chin. I slid the leather through the buckle, adjusted it, put the pin into the proper hole and finished fastening the buckle.

“Done with that,” I muttered.

Lyle took his phone out of his jacket and messed around with it for a moment. Suddenly, I heard a beep coming from the kitten.

“Alright,” Lyle said. “Let’s let the kitty sleep and we’ll head back home.”

“What if the cat doesn’t head back to our neighborhood?”

“She followed us here; she’ll follow us home.”

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: COMEDIANS IN CARS GETTING COFFEE (2012)-Netflix

If you’re sitting around wanting to watch something short, fun, and funny watch this show. It ran for eleven seasons over the course of eight years on Netflix. The whole thing seems like a banal premise. Jerry Seinfeld chooses a car to suit his guest comedian, then he goes and picks them up and takes them out for coffee. That’s it. And the show is as addictive as coffee itself. Once you see the first episode (Jim Carry who is fantastic) you’ve got to see the next one…and the next one…and the next one…In many ways the best part of the show is Seinfeld himself and how quick witted and imaginative this guy really is as he carries on casual conversations with famous comedians. It’s as if you were right there having coffee with them. Whether you like the guest he has on or not they are interesting to observe no matter what. I started watching the show by chance recently during the down times when I was helping set up a garage sale and I absolutely adored it. No, it is not one of the deeper more profound films I suggest for the stream of the week but its darned fun and there are moments of brilliance you don’t want to miss. Check it out.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter eleven of my story Catzilla. My novelist does not go in much for tradition. However, there is one annual event here in the pacific northwest that happens every July during which my novelist goes insane. She spends hours figuring out the strategy and how she will carry it out. She becomes like an artist who is never completely satisfied with her sculpture. A little more here, a little less there. She focused on this so much the last couple of days I thought I might have to alert the paramedics. This tradition, of course, is called the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. And it is utter madness. If my novelist cannot find the perfect items made from the perfect material at the perfect price, she goes mad. The name on the label means nothing to her. It’s all about the content and the value. Having studied theatre in college which included costume design, her tolerance for synthetic fabrics is zero. She does not understand why anyone would wear things made from petroleum and natural gas unless it is required for an occupation.

Her tolerance for jewelry made from anything less than sterling silver is nil. She says she would accept titanium, but Nordstrom does not carry much in titanium, a metal which is excellent for those with sensitive skin. She tells me she would rather get one or two pieces made from proper materials than several made from, and these are her words, utter garbage.

This fastidiousness makes for an utter nightmare to stay within a proper budget. But I must tell you, this insanity has been going on since before my time. So enamored is she with this sale she has kept the very first item she ever purchased there: a black sweater with a chain of teddy bears motif. She has also kept the first piece of jewelry she purchased at the sale: a petite sterling silver teddy bear ring. And she’s not even a collector of teddy bears.

The best I can do is have patience, sip on the occasional non-alcoholic mint julep, and continue to write the next chapters of my story. And so, here is chapter eleven of Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Eleven

Lyle crept toward the kitten as he grabbed the cuff of each glove and gave it a tug to make sure they were secure. I watched the ravenous feline continue to devour her food as if she were a lion who’d taken down a dozen gazelles. Lyle moved behind her stealthy step by stealthy step. As he did, the kitten suddenly sensed his presence. It turned its glowing green goblin-like eyes towards him.

“Nice kitty,” Lyle said timidly.

The cat that should have been a kitten glared at him and licked its lips.

“I’m just going to put something on your collar.”

The cat continued to stare him down. Lyle tiptoed closer…closer…

The kitten hissed a horrible raspy hiss and opened its mouth to bare a double row of needle-sharp teeth as its head twisted in a full circle, its glaring eyes never leaving Lyle.

“I think I might need something more than your dad’s gloves,” Lyle said. 

I did not disagree with this assessment. “Holy cow! What in the world do you think we need?”

“I’m thinking…tranquilizers.”

“My dad used to have some, but I think he may have taken them to the pharmacy and disposed of them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…sort of.”

“Do you think you could check?”

I thought about this for a moment. I didn’t want my mom to know I was sneaking my dad’s tranquilizers. “I guess I could ride back to my house and look.”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.”

I looked at the cat who had returned to eating its food which was quite a bit different than watching it bare its double set of teeth and spin its head around in a circle. “Won’t that be a little dangerous, not to mention conspicuous?”

“Hm. Maybe. But I don’t want to leave and then come back to find the cat isn’t here.”

“That’s true. Maybe you could hide over there against the fence. Text me if it does anything…creepy or otherwise.”

Lyle turned and looked at the fence. “Yeah. That might work.”

“I’ll be right back.” I hopped on my bike and headed towards my house. I carefully parked my bike on the side of the house, crept around to backyard where my window faced, opened said window and listened for my mom. When I didn’t hear her, I climbed inside.

I had been wise enough to lock my bedroom door with instrumental music playing on my laptop. I knew my mom had probably retired to her office and was working on her next consulting project for the new company that had hired her. I opened my bedroom door and headed to the bathroom. I slipped inside and opened the door of the bronze framed mirrored medicine cabinet.

“Did you want some desert?” my mom called from the kitchen. She must have gone in there to brew tea.

Yes, I thought. But I’m in a huge hurry. “Maybe later.”

“Are you feeling well? You never pass on lemon shortbread with white chocolate chips.

“I feel fine. I just have a lot of homework.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced.

I searched the medicine cabinet for my dad’s tranquilizers. I thought he would put the bottle on the top shelf, but I couldn’t find it there. I moved on to the second shelf pushing aside a box of band aids and a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Still no luck. I searched the bottom shelf certain I would find it amongst my mother’s nail polish bottles. But the tranquilizers were nowhere to be found.

At this point I was certain my father had indeed taken the pills to the pharmacy and disposed of them but on the offhand chance I could be wrong I opened my father’s toiletry drawer on the left-hand side of the vanity. It was a troublesome drawer filled with implements like dental floss, hairbrushes, nail clipper, a tiny hand polished mustache comb, a Star Wars tin filled with Q-tips and tweezers. An odds-and-ends drawer of sorts. I moved a small catch-all basket aside and set it on the counter. All I found there was a forgotten electric razor brush. I rummaged around but could not seem to come up with anything else but a hand-polished hair comb.

The only other place the tranquilizers might be in was my dad’s bedside table. And that drawer was always locked. And I had no idea where he hid the key. But he likely had it with him. Wherever that was.

I returned to my room and tried to think of an alternative plan. Either I needed to come up with a better way to get a forty-pound kitten with a double set of teeth and a head capable of turning a full 360° to allow Lyle and I to put a bug on its collar or come up with a different source from which to acquire some sort of sedative or tranquilizer. I listened to the ticking of the clock in my head knowing Lyle was standing out there by the fence attempting to guard that sinister feline.

As often happens in times like these, a nagging possibility traversed my mind: Ellery. Using the source of evil to assist me in thwarting it seemed insane if not downright dangerous even though I was certain someone like him would have access to tranquilizers. But how to convince him why I needed them seemed impossible.

I decided to text Lyle:

            R U still @ the fence?

            Yup.

            Can’t find them. Will need to acquire elsewhere.

            Who?

            Meet U soon.

I rode my bike back to Lyle’s neighbor’s driveway where the cat had finished eating and was entertaining itself with a red playground ball the boy in green overalls had likely left outside. I snuck over to the fence where Lyle was hiding under the lush overhanging trees.

“Who would have them?” Lyle asked when I crept up next to him.

“Maybe Ellery.”

“Bad idea.”

“Where else are we going to get them? Do your parents have any?”

“No.”

“We’ve got to get the bug on the cat somehow.”

“The other creep who may have them is Quincy.”

The thought made me queasy. But Lyle was right. Quincy either had tranquilizers or knew how to get his hands on them.

“Okay, but how do we get him to get us some?”

“We could go to his house.”

“His house?”

“He’s got an electric bike like Ellery. He rides it around in the evenings sometimes. If we head in the direction of his house, we might find him.”

“Let’s just do this.”

We got on our bikes and Lyle led the way as I had no idea where Quincy lived, and I didn’t want to know. We started heading for the intersection. Suddenly, I heard an electric bike pull up behind me. I could tell by the sound of the rider’s chuckle it was Quincy. Goosebumps raised on my skin as it sped past me and cut us off at the four-way stop.

“What do you have there, Lyle?” he said smugly.

“We’re looking for you,” Lyle said.

“Hey, Briar,” Quincy said, balancing on his bike. “What are you doing out this late? It’s not the weekend. You didn’t work at the restaurant tonight. Couldn’t stop thinking about me, could you?”

“We came to find you.”

Quincy gave Lyle a nasty look then he said to me, “What are you doing hanging out with this loser?”

“We need to ask a favor of you,” I said.

“A favor, huh? What kind of favor, hot stuff?”

“We need some sedatives,” Lyle told him.

Quincy scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Do you have some?” I asked.

“What do you want them for?”

“I’ll help you pass algebra two if you get us some,” Lyle said.

Quincy cocked his head and studied Lyle. “What makes you think I’m failing algebra two?”

“Because you are.”

Quincy looked at me, then narrowed his eyes at Lyle. “You need to sweeten the deal.”

“How?”

Quincy looked me up and down with his reptilian eyes. “Briar here makes out with me.”

“Burn in hell,” I told him.

“That’s a brutal thing to say.”

“It’s not like you won’t anyway.”

Quincy smiled. “Alright then. One kiss.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Do you have tranquilizers or not?”

“My older brother does.”

“Can you get them or not?”

Quincy chuckled. “Follow me.”

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: REALITY (2023)-HBO

Taunt, tense and terse, this new HBO film based on the play Is This a Room? by the film’s co-writer and director Tina Satter is an excellent exercise in the power of theatrical minimalism. The script is literally word for word from an actual transcript about an incident that happened on a Saturday afternoon in Augusta, Georgia in June 2017. Reality Winner (wonderfully played by Sydney Sweeny) is a whip-smart twenty-five-year-old National Security Agency contractor who fluently speaks four languages comes home with her groceries to find two men at her house. They say they are FBI agents and begin a strange ambiguous conversation with Reality outside her home. As the film rolls on in real time, the tension grows and the dynamics of the petite young woman and the men who physically dwarf her and slowly grow in number becomes more and more ominous. Isn’t it interesting how men who are trying to leverage women always like to coax them into a confined space and talk menacingly to them? This is one of the first scenarios women are taught to avoid in self-defense classes. Reality, unfortunately, could not avoid these circumstances. The movie also stars Josh Hamilton as Agent Garrick and Marchánt Davis as Agent Taylor.

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here at your disposal to introduce chapter ten of my story Catzilla. It was a dark and stormy week. I am not referring to the weather but rather the profound depth of gloom I was made to dwell in. My novelist abandoned Tucker the Maltese and I for four days. Four days, I say. We were left with the blasted…Him. Him does not give us treats. Him does not take us for walks. It is a completely uncivilized world when Him is here. I could not sleep. I had dreadful nightmares and lay awake at two AM after dreaming I was being chased down by two unsavory characters brandishing a leash and muzzle. Finally, late on the fourth night, my precious novelist returned from her voyage. Apparently, she had to assist a relative with a garage sale. I do not understand why I was not allowed to travel with her. I am masterful at accounting the value of items. I spend much of my spare time watching reruns of The Antiques Road Show as I do adore watching PBS and would have been a marvelous resource for proper prices. But alas, the Canis lupus familiaris is much underrated as an expert in the field of antiques. I suppose I should be grateful for my novelist returning and spoiling me properly, but I do feel I should be included in all things financial. And with that thought, here is chapter ten of Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Ten

MONDAY.

For the entire day I kept looking over my shoulder wondering when I was going to run into Ellery. I feared he and his family knew about the entire situation. As I worried, I searched for Lyle everywhere, but I didn’t see him in any of my classes. Finally, at lunch (I have the second lunch which starts at a quarter to one) I spotted him. He was sitting outside on a bench he never sits on, so it was almost the end of lunch when I finally found him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” I said.

“I’ve been at school all day,” he said before sticking a chip in his mouth. “Of course, I’ve been wearing a disguise so I may have seemed to blend into the background.”

That was irritating. “What are we going to do now, Lyle?”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I think we need to find out what kind of horrific experiments they’re doing on all those cats.”

“We don’t actually know how many cats they have.”

“Regardless, that red kitten that’s been roaming around has to be one of their laboratory animals.”

Lyle nodded, “Probably.”

“How hard would it be for us to get back in there and bug the place?”

“Well, as that guy can recognize us, I’d say pretty darned difficult.”

“Maybe not if he’s only there at night.”

“It would be difficult to sneak in there during the day.”

“What about your mom?”

“My mom isn’t going to bug her place of work.”

“She would if she didn’t know she was bugging her place of work.”

“But she doesn’t even have access to the lab.”

“She has access to part of the lab.”

“Let me think about it.” Lyle put his thinking face on. Finally, he said, “It might be a shot in the dark, as my grandpa used to say, but we could bug the cat. I saw them do it in a movie once and it worked.”

“Do you think they take that red cat back to the laboratory sometimes?”

“I think Professor Grosser implied on the recordings that they do.”

“Then let’s take a chance on implied.”

“You want to meet me after school and help me catch the kitty?”

“Absolutely.”

“Your right about it having gotten bigger. I saw it in my next-door neighbor’s driveway last night. Mr. Gasper was feeding it.”

“How much bigger?”

I’d say twenty-five pounds.”

“But it’s still a kitten!”

“It doesn’t look like a kitten at all.”

“Okay, look. I’ll meet you tonight after dinner and we’ll bug the thing. You do have a spare bug, right?”

“No. I’ll have to make one. But I’ve got the materials to do it so it shouldn’t take long.”

“How long?”

“I can have it done and meet you at nine.”

“Nine? That’s late. And we were already out late.”

“Eight-fifty?”

“How about eight o’clock sharp?”

“Well…I’ll try.”

I sighed. “Text me if you need more time.”

My mom made baked salmon for dinner with rice and frozen mixed vegetables. My mom was never a very good cook. But it was one of those simple dishes that always seems to come out right.

“You have a lot of homework tonight?” my mom asked.

“A…a little.”

“What are you working on?”

“A…a science project.”

“Really? What’s the project?”

“We’re in an electronics unit.”

“I thought you were taking Biology this semester.”

“I am. We’re studying a unit on…cyborgs.”

“They study cyborgs in high school now?”

“Yes. Yes, they do.”

“Wow. You kids are a lot more advanced than my generation was.”

“I suppose,” I said and went back to eating my dinner, but I could feel my mom’s eyes watching me.

“I guess we won’t be able to watch that movie tonight we were planning to see.”

“Nope,” I said keeping my eyes on my plate. My mom nodded and looked at her dinner. I glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty PM. Thirty minutes to go. “Well, I better get to it,” I said and took my dinner plate and glass into the kitchen.

“Would you like some dessert?”

“Maybe later.”

I headed into my bedroom, closed the door, and texted Lyle:

            U make the bug?

A few minutes went by before he finally texted back:

            Almost. Working out the bugs. LOL no pun intended.

Yeah, funny, Lyle. Then I texted back:

            R we still meeting @ 8?

            Yup.

            Good.

I went on my school laptop and looked up my actual homework, an English assignment. I had to read this short story and write about the symbolism in it. As I read my assignment, I thought about the lemon shortbread cookies my mom had made for dessert. She makes them with white chocolate chips, which is awesome. I kept telling myself I would enjoy them even more after we bugged the cat.

Just as I finished the short story, Lyle texted me:

            Bug done.

            Cool.

            CU @ 8:15.

            CU.

I completed the last page of the story, put on my sneakers, quietly opened my bedroom window, and snuck out. I peddled my bike to Lyle’s house where I saw him waiting for me on the sidewalk one house up straddling his bike.

“I think I saw our target at the Big Bird house,” he said.

It was called the Big Bird house because its residents painted it bright sunny yellow last summer and added hot pink and orange shutters. It was bizarre. The couple had a little boy who always wore green coveralls. His parents were into saving the earth despite their choice in nuclear colors and had found this company that grew cotton that had a natural green color to the fabric it produced. And so, the kid always wore green coveralls.

Sure enough, when we peddled down to the Big Bird house there was the red cat sitting in the driveway eating out of a psychedelic tie-dye-colored ceramic bowl. Lyle was right. The kitten was gigantic. More than the twenty-five pounds Lyle said it was. More like forty. And the weight it carried looked like solid muscle.

“The cat’s huge,” I whispered to Lyle.

“Yes,” Lyle said surprised. “It appears to be growing by the day.”

“Do you think you can still bug it?”

“I…think so…”

We stood there watching the mushroomed feline for several minutes.

“Well,” I finally said. “We should probably get this done.”

“We should get it done together.”

I slipped the mini backpack I was wearing off my shoulder, reached inside, retrieved my dad’s heavy gloves, and handed them to Lyle.

Lyle looked at the gloves, then the kitten then back at the gloves. Lyle put on the gloves, flexed his fingers, and said, “Let’s rock.”

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: AIR (2023)-AMAZON PRIME

This week’s choice is a slice of modern history about a little shoe company named Nike who found themselves playing against the big boys like Adidas and Converse in 1984. They were a scrappy little group out in Oregon state who were desperate to get in the game and save their basketball shoe division. CEO Phil Knight (Ben Affleck) and his Marketing VP Rob Strasser (Jason Bateman) enlist their marketing executive Sonny Vaccaro (Matt Damon), an expert in basketball talent scouting with the job. After watching endless videos of recent college games, he sees something special in a player named Michael Jordan. He realizes Jordan is unique in his effortlessness in playing the game. Perhaps more so than any player he has ever seen before. Vaccaro gets the idea to base a shoe on only Jordan built especially with him in mind much like a line of Head brand tennis rackets Arthur Ashe had on the market at the time. A shoe that is the epitome of the athlete.

Despite Nike’s wariness of even getting a chance to interest Jordan in considering their company, Vaccaro then meets with Jordan’s Olympic basketball coach George Raveling (Marlon Wayans) at a bar and after discussing the plan, Raveling promises to back Vaccaro in pursuit of signing Jordan to Nike. Vaccaro then calls Jordan’s mother Deloris (Viola Davis) without telling Nike about it and asks to meet her family.

Rounding out the cast are Chris Tucker as Nike’s Director of Athlete Relations Howard White, Chris Messina as Jordan’s agent David Falk, Mathew Maher as Nike shoe designer Peter Moore, Julius Tennon as Jordan’s father James Jordan and Damian Young as Michael Jordan.  I should add that Arthur Ashe was an INTJ personality type. INTJs are always wonderfully but painfully ahead of their time.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce the nineth chapter of my story Catilla. This week my owner and I learned about yellow ribbons on dog leashes and collars. This is done to warn folks the dog with the ribbon needs space and should not be approached. This can be for different reasons such as the dog is aggressive, is suffering from PTSD, is skittish, is elderly or it may be in training to be a service dog amongst other things. I am pondering the idea of wearing one just to keep away my rabid fans. I know everyone wants a picture with a gorgeous toy poodle who writes short stories and I appreciate my doting public. However, my privacy is most important to me. I need my alone time. This, however, shouldn’t stop individuals from coming up and adoring me, at an acceptable distance. I am aware of my brilliance and otherworldly good looks, but one can only take so much. And with that thought, here is chapter nine of Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Nine

I didn’t turn around to discover the identity of the voice. Instead, I grabbed Lyle’s hand, and ran as fast as I could drag him. We got a good head start but the man’s feet pounded close behind. We rounded a corner and hid in a doorway. Lyle took the lanyard off his neck and slipped it around mine.

“I’m going to ward him off,” he said. “You head to my mom’s office.”

Before I could speak, Lyle took off towards the man. With Lyle’s mother’s keycard bouncing around my neck, I rushed down a flight of stairs, found the bathroom and burst inside. I dashed into one of the stalls and waited. I knew I couldn’t stay long because Lyle wouldn’t be able to hold the guy off forever. I watched the time on my phone and waited exactly three minutes before I left the bathroom and darted up the stairs. Feet pounded in the distance as I scrambled to Lyle’s mother’s office door, held the keycard near the pad, turned the light from red to green, and scurried inside.

I backed away from the door, stepping over to the side so no one could see my feet under the crack below. Shortly after, someone stopped right outside. As the door had no window, I couldn’t tell if it was Lyle or the man. It also occurred to me it might not be either one of them. There could be a third person standing out there. It also occurred to me if it wasn’t Lyle whomever stopped might have a keycard and be able to unlock the door. My eyes darted around the office and saw no good place to hide.

After a beat, the feet outside the door walked away. Not long after a second pair stopped by the door. “Briar,” I heard Lyle’s voice say. “Open up.”

I exhaled the huge breath I’d been holding and opened the door. Lyle scurried in and I shut the door after him. “We’re trapped, Lyle. We need to get out of here and go home.”

“But we don’t have any more information about what’s going on than we did when we got here. Our risk will be for nothing.”

“Right now, I want out. I don’t like strangers chasing me.”

“I think I might have seen something when that guy was pursuing me. We need to go back there and find out what it was.”

I knew Lyle had seen something unusual since he knew the place well. But with that guy in the building, we didn’t have much of a shot. “There’s no way. He’ll catch us.”

Lyle put his fist to his chin and pondered. “There are three legitimate ways out of here. One is to go out the door and accept getting caught. Two is to hold up in this office until my mom gets here in the morning and somehow gets in without her keycard.”

“What’s the third?”

“We go out the door and don’t get caught.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Lyle plopped down on the edge of the desk and pondered more.

“Okay, how about this? Where was this thing you saw and how far is it from an exit?”

“It’s at the far end of the factory and the nearest exit is across the length of the building.”

“How can that be? What about fire codes?”

“That’s where things get interesting. According to my mom, the Edevane Company is planning to install fire exit doors on the first floor. Four to be exact. But they aren’t putting them in till the end of next month.”

“Fabulous.”

“I don’t know how the Edevane’s get away with it, but somehow, they do. I vote for getting out and escaping without getting caught. If we’re determined, we just might make it.”

“We need a plan first. We need to know exactly where we’re going and how we’re going there once we leave this room.”

“We’ll turn left and go straight down the hall. That’s the closest side to what I saw. Then we’ll head straight across the building because that’s the nearest exit.” “Terrifying. Do you think your mother’s keycard has access to the area you thought you saw?”

Lyle shrugged.

“Lyle!”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“What happens if that creep catches us?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Great. I’m starting to think we should stay in here till morning and wait for your mom.”

“If we do, she’ll start locking her keycard in my parent’s safe and we’ll never gain access to this place again.”

Lyle was clearly not improving the situation. “I suppose if we make it across the length of the first floor, we can get to our bikes fast. But we need to decide on how much time we can check this thing out before we leave.”

“It’ll probably take us five minutes tops to get a good idea of what’s in there.”

“As soon as we step inside, I’m starting my phone timer.”

“Timers make noise when they go off.”

“Fine. I’ll use my stopwatch and watch it.”

“Okay. Five minutes.”

“Alright, let’s go. Oh, wait.” I put Lyle’s mother’s lanyard back around his neck.

“Thank you.” Lyle opened the door and peered out. He slipped into the hall and motioned for me to follow him. I did and we crept cautiously down the left side of the hall. As we went, I noticed another light above starting to flicker. We reached the stairs and peered around listening for footsteps. When we heard no one, we hunched over and inched down the stairs, praying not to be discovered.

We arrived at the last step and Lyle tapped my arm and pointed towards the room at the end of the first floor. We waited, looked around again, and listened for footsteps. When we heard no one, which made me more nervous than if we had, we tiptoed towards the door.

“See?” Lyle whispered. “Never seen that before.”

I looked and the door Lyle pointed at was marked with a restricted sign. Lyle inched towards the pad and held up his mother’s keycard. The light turned from red to green, surprising us both and we slipped inside. As soon as we were in, I started the stopwatch.

“It’s a laboratory,” Lyle said turning on the light.

I looked up from my phone to find he was right. “They didn’t have a laboratory here before?”

“No. Just a factory.”

“Probably put it in for that Dr. Grosser…did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Sounded like cats meowing.” We turned and looked towards the back of the room and saw another door. “Let’s hurry.”

Lyle held his keycard up to the pad. The light stayed red. “At least we have a good guess at what’s in there.”

“Is there anything we should look for out here before we leave?”

Lyle shrugged.

“I think we should leave.”

Lyle shut off the light and cracked open the door. We looked around and listened. Nothing. Lyle pointed towards the direction of the exit. We crept with caution, moving through the factory like spiders. I found myself paying attention to the sound of my breathing as we moved.

Halfway through I heard a sound. I touched Lyle’s back. “Above us,” I whispered.

“Keep going,” he whispered back.

We skittered along past the factory. I could see the EXIT sign glowing in the distance now. As we moved footsteps pounded along with us from above.  

“He’ll cut us off at the stairs,” Lyle said.

“What do we do?”

Lyle grabbed my hand, and we made a swift left turn.

“Where are we going?”

Lyle steered us into a hall beneath the upper levels. “Always have a plan B…and C and D.” Lyle made another sharp left and we found ourselves in a breakroom.

“Now what?”

Lyle pointed. Above the sink there was a window.

“I said there wasn’t another exit,” Lyle said. “But I didn’t say there wasn’t a window.”

He climbed up on the sink and opened it. “Ladies first,” he said.

Lyle moved over and I climbed up on the sink with him. “It’s small.”

“Not that small. Hurry.”

I put my hands on the sill of the little thing and started working my way through. Just as I got to the other side, I heard footsteps coming our way. “He’s coming, Lyle!”

Lyle started to head through the window just as the man rounded the corner and entered the break room.

“Hey!” the man shouted.

“Lyle!”

The man grabbed one of Lyle’s ankles and started to drag him down. I lurched forwards and grabbed Lyle’s arms. “Let go of him!” I snarled.

Lyle kicked wildly and got his ankle loose. He crawled halfway through the window when the man grabbed his ankle again. Lyle kicked harder but the man held on. My heart pounded wildly as I tried to help Lyle through and searched for something to use as a weapon.

“Come here!” the man yelled as Lyle struggled to break free.

“My pocket!” Lyle shouted at me.

“What?”

“Pocket on my shirt!”

Confused, I jammed my hand into Lyle’s shirt pocket and grabbed a keychain with a makeshift wooden oval and a red button. Something Lyle must have done as an experiment.

“Press the button! Press the button!”

I did and the most horrific screeching sound went off. I dropped the thing; the man covered his ears and Lyle pulled himself the rest of the way through the window. We scrambled as fast as we could for our bicycles, the horrific screeching sound bellowing in the distance.

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: BAMA RUSH: ACCEPTANCE IS EVERYTHING (2023)-HBO MAX

This week’s movie is a new documentary focusing on a small handful of young women going through rush at the University of Alabama. Rush, if you are unfamiliar, is the week or two prior to the start of fall classes when (mostly) freshman and sophomore women attempt to gain entrance into a sorority. And Alabama is one of the biggest sorority systems in the country.

Having been in a sorority myself once I can tell you this is a vapid, chaotic, and crazy week. And apparently it has become even worse. To go through rush now, at least at the University of Alabama, it will cost each participant over $8000 dollars. $8000. This money goes to several things. These are mostly but not limited to clothing, shoes, accessories, makeup, head shots, and a coach. The head shot part made me laugh. Honestly, no one who isn’t a singer, actor/actress, model, or someone in the entertainment business should ever have to get head shots. These are absurdly expensive. They are also grueling because it takes an entire day to do them right. I know because I studied acting in New York City and I had to get them twice. And I got a very good photographer to do them each time. Headshots are for business not the Greek system. Period.

The other thing that made me laugh was hiring a rush coach. Talk about the pink tag. Talk about preying on desperation. If you think retail reems you on items for girls and women, it’s nothing compared to trying to get into a sorority. You think the guys trying to get into fraternities are shelling out over $8000? Not a chance. Unless things have dramatically changed, prospective fraternity pledges just show up at the barbeques, drink beer and chat. And the fraternity pays for the BBQ. With student debt the way it is, the Greek systems, especially the sororities across the country, need to take a good look at their outdated sexist highway robbery and their gross mistreatment of women. And young women need to wake up. Colleges were originally designed for men. Women weren’t part of the plan. And women should absolutely be part of the plan…for an education. Because that’s equal. Not to mention studies show sorority girls are three times more likely to get raped than other women their own age. Three times. One of the women in the documentary tells us she’s been “roofied” three times. Three times. And society accepts this as normal? Too many worthless legacy students and their ivy tower dwelling alumni parents are at the core of this cart and pony show screw job.

Greek systems, especially sororities, take advantage of two failures in the school systems: 1. They do not teach women self-defense. 2. They do not teach anyone basic finance. And those two loopholes have screwed millions of college students over the years. Watch the documentary Maxed Out: Hard Times, Easy Credit and The Era of Predatory Lenders. Kids hanging themselves in their dorm rooms over credit card debt. It’s a barrel of laughs. 

The director of this film, Rachel Fleit, is fantastic and brave. She wove her own battle with alopecia into the story to show the human desperation of wanting to belong to a group and the ridiculous ways society judges human beings.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to bring you chapter eight of my story Catzilla. This week I found my novelist has changed my walk time. This means I go earlier in the day than later because the weather is becoming warmer and though I am well-groomed for the upcoming summer I do pant from the heat. I am not sure how I feel about this change of schedule. I have no problem waking my novelist up at ruthlessly early hours but just because I wake my novelist up early does not mean I wish to rise from my slumber at such a time. I rather like sleeping in on a human bed. It’s big, soft, and comfortable. I don’t even like to eat meals before noon. But I am not going to be able to change her mind any time soon. Morning humans do not understand night poodles. And with that thought, here is chapter eight of Catzilla.

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Eight

Lyle and I agreed to meet at the entrance gate to the Edevane factory at ten on Sunday night. This was no easy task as I have an overly protective mother. But I managed to open my window which faced the back yard and crawled out, snuck around the side, and quietly wheeled my bicycle out into the street. I had wheeled my bike out of the garage & parked it by the side of the house before dinner and even offered to take out the garbage to ensure my mother didn’t see it.

I walked my bike two blocks before I got on it and started to ride. I had ridden out to the Edevane factory a couple of times a long time ago and I’d forgotten how far it was. I had to ride up two steep hills, ride over an overpass, and head down a long tree-lined road before I got halfway there. Then I had to pass the YMCA and head through a couple of neighborhoods before I finally got to the place.  

Lyle stood at the gate with his bike. His mother’s lanyard with her keycard hung around his neck. He waved sheepishly at me.

“Hi, Lyle,” I said as I dismounted my bike.

“I don’t know how many places in here my mom’s keycard is going to work on,” he said.

“Will it work on the gate here?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it will.” He held the card up to the keypad and we heard the lock pop open. “We’ll need these,” he said holding out a pair of disposable latex gloves. “Fingerprints and all.”

“Good idea.” I put on the gloves and threw the hood of my zippered sweatshirt over my head. Lyle did the same and we headed towards the main entrance door. Lyle put the keycard up to the pad and it too clicked open like the gate, and we went inside. “Do you know where your mom’s office is? You know just in case we need a homebase.”

“It’s on the third floor. Most of what’s down here is the factory, and the offices are all upstairs.”

“What do they make here anyway? It’s always been kind of secretive.”

“My mom doesn’t talk about work much. But I think they make sports medicine drugs.”

“Really. That’s odd. I would have guessed they made something else entirely.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe toys.”

“No. They make sports medicine drugs.”

“Interesting.”

We walked through the rows of machinery until we got to the end where a large red steel door stood. Lyle held the keycard up to the pad and unlocked the door. The hall had a Kubrickian look to it with one of the overhead lights flickering ominously. This made me even more concerned about the experiments the Edevane’s might be doing. As I moved down the hallway, Lyle hung back and opened one of the doors. “Briar, come here,” he said. I turned back to see Lyle standing at the entrance staring inside. I moved over beside him. “What do you make of this?” he said.

As I looked inside the room, I saw what looked like a classroom for preschoolers complete with a colorful rug in primary colors and a mural of cats playing in a field. “I don’t know,” I said. Maybe its where employees leave their kids when they work here.”

“But there’s no chairs. No tables. No toys. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“I don’t know, Lyle. Maybe they took the chairs, stacked them, and put them in that big closet there. Come on. Let’s keep searching for a laboratory.” Lyle shut the door and we continued down the hall. That’s when we thought we heard something. “What’s that?”

“Don’t know. Sounded like it came from the end of the hall. After we check it out do you want to see my mom’s office?”

“Okay, but let’s check this out first.”

We crept towards the end of the hall. As we did the sound grew louder. I started to wish I hadn’t come out here tonight. Lyle bravely stepped up to the door and held his mother’s keycard up to the pad…but it didn’t work. “I guess my mom doesn’t have access to this one,” he whispered.

I was relieved. I really didn’t want to open the door and find out what was making the sound.  Especially if it turned out to be unrelated to Dr. Grosser’s experiment. Lyle and I quietly turned and headed for the stairs.

“Worst case, I can at least show you my mom’s office,” Lyle said.

“Yeah, but I rode all the way out here to find out what Dr. Grosser’s experiments are.”

“The night’s still young.”

We headed into the stairwell and up a couple flights, opened the door and entered the third floor. Out of habit I looked behind me. My mother always taught me to turn around every so often and see if anyone was following me. A good habit I suppose.

“Here it is,” Lyle said holding his mother’s keycard up to the pad. The light turned from red to green. Lyle pressed down the lever on the door and we entered.

Lyle’s mother’s office was larger than I expected. She had a whiteboard which almost covered the full length of one wall with her desk and chair expanded across the opposite wall. On the desk were a laptop docking station, a large coffee mug with company’s E logo boldly painted on it full of company pens and pencils, a crystal statue with a 5-year employee etched on it and a bobblehead cat in the opposite upper corner. Lyle reached over and tapped the cat’s head which made it bounce around.

“Your mom has a nice office,” I said and sat down in her desk chair.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I used to come here more often.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they used to have a bring your kid to work day but that phased out a couple of years ago. In fact, a lot of things here phased out.”

“Why?”

“I think the company is struggling financially. Please don’t tell anyone that. My mom says it’s classified information.”

“I won’t.”

Lyle sat down on the edge of the desk. “Shall we keep searching?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We got up and headed out of the office. Lyle checked to make sure the door locked behind us. “If for some reason we get separated, we can meet back here.” Lyle and I headed further down the hall. Another overhead light flickered which I found unsettling. “There’s an elevator at the end. It’s the only one in the building. Mom said they were going to install another one at the opposite wing, but they never did. You need a keycard to use it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s odd.”

“Yeah.”

Lyle and I headed towards the elevator. Lyle stepped up to the keypad and held up his mom’s card. The light remained red.

“Try it again.”

Lyle shrugged and held the keycard up to the pad again. The light remained red.

“Where does the elevator go to?”

“I think there’s a basement under the factory.”

“What’s in the basement?”

“I don’t know.” Suddenly, that sound started up again. “What is that?”

I saw Lyle’s eyes grew wide and then a gruff man’s voice said, “What are you doing here?”

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: TUFF TURF (1985)-Amazon Prime Video

Rounding out the final week of 80’s movie sleepers is this teenage gem. One year before Pretty in Pink and four years before Sex, Lies and Videotape kicked off the Indi Film movement, the fantastic James Spader played the role of Morgan Hiller, a preppy country club teen who had always been the black sheep of his upper crust family. But when his dad’s business goes under, he and his parents are forced to move from Connecticut to Los Angeles and join the ranks of the lower middle class.

The night before his first day at his new school Morgan thwarts a gang of teenagers from robbing a businessman at a bus stop while riding around on his $500 bike ($1,413.23 in today’s money). Making the mistake of wearing his very cool signature punk leather jacket to school the next day gives him away and the gang led by resident psychopath Nick Hauser (Paul Mones) destroy Morgan’s prized bike. Nick, who is fond of using his pretty girlfriend Frankie (Kim Richards) as bait for his muggings quickly sees Morgan take a shine to her and develops a dangerous animosity towards him. But Frankie has some demons of her own and Nick begins to see the attraction Morgan has towards her is mutual. With the help of his newfound drummer friend Jimmy Parker (a young Robert Downey Jr. who would go on to co-star with Spader again in Less Than Zero), Morgan slowly begins to carve out his place at his new school but not without some brutal sacrifices along the way.  

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce chapter seven of my story Catzilla. This week I spent some time looking up movies that humans find the most rewatchable. It was most amusing. Humans, it seems, watch the strangest and most insipid things. I am a connoisseur of the classics and found very few of them on the lists. I have even been told that I am uncultured because I do not watch enough superhero films. I fear the future. Not only is artificial intelligence about to run rampant because of corporate greed but apparently superhero films are now considered the height of intellectual cinema. I must say some of the loveliest films I delight in watching over and over are shot in black and white and I do so love to watch them repeatedly such as Psycho, Notorious, It’s a Wonderful Life, The Apartment, Sabrina, Dr. Strangelove, Night of the Hunter, Lolita, Repulsion, City Lights, M, A Streetcar Named Desire, The Hustler, The Third Man, 12 Angry Men, Some Like It Hot, and The Manchurian Candidate. But then again, I am a parti poodle and have an altogether different definition of what I would consider refined. And with that thought, here is Chapter Seven of my story Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Seven

The rest of the week I found myself worrying about Lyle. What if the Edevane’s found out he bugged their house? The Edevane Factory stood just outside of town and almost everyone in my town worked there. That is excepting folks like my mother who is a consultant and works for different companies. When Lyle said he would bug the Edevane House, all I could think of was what would happen when they found out.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I had all the confidence in the world in Lyle. He may be a loner and all but there was no denying he was the sharpest tack in my high school’s box. And if not, he was extremely close. I believed Lyle when he said he built his own surveillance bug and I believed he tutored Ellery in science, and I believed he hid the bug in the Edevane house. But I also knew the Edevanes didn’t need a genius IQ to cause vindictive damage.

I couldn’t wait until Saturday afternoon to listen to Lyle’s recordings. And when it came around Lyle showed up at exactly twelve o’ five in the afternoon just as he promised. Apparently, he didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to. It was another gorgeous spring day with tufts of cottonwood floating through the air like tiny fairies. My mother was stunned to find him standing on our porch. He adjusted his ill-fitting spectacles and sported a pleasant smile. “Hello, Mrs. Gagnon.”

“Hello, Lyle,” my mother said bewildered. “What brings you here today?”

“Briar and I are working on a project together. I brought over the work I’ve done so we can go over it.”

“I see. Briar?”

“Yeah?” I called from my room.

“Lyle’s here. He says you’re doing a project together.”

“Yes,” I said hopping off my bed. “Yes, we are.”

“Which class?”

“It’s a sociological project, Mrs. Gagnon,” Lyle said.

“It’s not sex ed is it?”

“What? No, Mrs. Gagnon.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Is it okay if we use your office, mom?” I asked.

My mom looked at me the way the Grinch looked at Whoville. “Snacks?”

“What?”

“Would you and Lyle like some snacks while you work in my office?”

“Yes, please, Mrs. Gagnon,” Lyle said. “I haven’t had lunch…or breakfast.”

“Lyle, you’re a growing teenager. You need to eat. Are you allergic to nuts or peanuts?”

“No.”

“I’ll make you a nut butter and jam sandwich with a side of fruit.”

“That sounds awesome. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you’re still hungry afterwards, I’ll bring you and Briar some snacks.”

Lyle and I headed into my mother’s office. There were two Steelcase desk chairs in there with casters which was why I wanted to use it. It also helped to keep my mother sane knowing we weren’t going into my bedroom.

“Your mom has a cool home office,” Lyle said.

“Thank you.”

“My mom had a cool home office too until the factory required everyone to come in to work at least four times a week.”

“My mom’s a consultant and works for different companies so she needs a home office. Did you get the recordings.”

“Oh, yeah. I got them alright.”

“Have you listened to them yet?”

“Yeah. A lot of it was stupid but I did make this one file I thought was important. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Lyle took out his phone. “I just need to find the right file.”

He searched for the file, found it, and pressed play. The first thing we heard was loud meowing in the background, likely from the two Havanans. Then we heard Mr. and Mrs. Edevane talking with someone who sounded like the woman in the suit who answered the door when my mother and I returned the kitten.

“Dr. Grosser, how do you think the experiment is going so far?” Mrs. Edevane asked.

“Brilliantly,” a female voice replied. “The subjects are responding magnificently to the stimuli.”

“How long do you predict the experiment will take at this point?” Mr. Edevane asked.

“It depends on how consistently the subjects respond to the stimuli,” Dr. Grosser said. “If they continue to respond daily, then a couple of weeks. If longer, then extreme measures might be required.”

“We appreciate all the effort you’ve contributed to our company,” Mrs. Edevane said. “The other scientists we interviewed did not understand our philosophy.”

“And we’re astounded by how much progress you’ve made in such a short time,” Mr. Edevane added.

“But of course,” Dr. Grosser said. “I appreciate the need one has to expand one’s business. It is much like trees in an orchard. The owner wants all of them to flourish and bear profitable fruit.”

After Dr. Grosser said this Ellery must have entered the room. “Are going to lunch or not?” he snapped.

“Why don’t you go ask Brenda to make you a sandwich?” his father said.

“Brenda’s sandwiches suck. Besides, you promised to take me to Hamburger, Hamburger this afternoon so I could get a blue cheese and potato chip burger.”

“Son, sometimes you’ve got to change plans. Go ask Brenda to make you a sandwich and next Saturday I’ll take you to Hamburger, Hamburger.”

“That sucks.”

“How did your tutoring with Lyle go?”

“The guy’s a doofus. He’s smart but he’s boring. All he talks about is math. The guy is never going to get laid.”

“Language, son.”

“Well, it’s true. A total snore-job. He’s one of those losers everyone will forget about once high school’s over.”

I looked at Lyle who seemed hurt, but he struggled to keep a brave face.

“But your grades are improving. Last time we went online to check them you had gone from a C- to a B-. That’s an entire grade.”

“Look, I don’t know what you guys are worried about. You’re just going to shell out the money to send me to a small private school. What difference does it make if I’m getting good grades or average ones? I have other things on my plate.”

We heard Ellery leave the room.

“It’s time I should be going,” Dr. Grosser said. “I will keep you updated on the experiment…ah! There’s your little kitten.”

Lyle and I heard the kitten mew.

“It sounds like someone is hungry. Perhaps you should name the little creature.”

“What would we name it?” Mr. Edevane asked.

“Why, whatever strikes your fancy. Perhaps you could ask Ellery to name it.”

“We’ll take that under advisement.”

We heard Dr. Grosser walk out of the room. Lyle stopped the recording and turned to me.

“So, what do you think?” he asked. 

“I think Ellery’s a bigger jerk than I thought.”

“Yes, but what do you think their experiment is?”

“Well, obviously it’s to make the Edevane’s more money. Beyond that I’m not sure.”

“Who do you think the subjects are?”

“I don’t know. But I think that Dr. Grosser was there when my mom and I dropped the kitten off at their place. In fact, she was the one who answered the door and took the kitten inside.”

“Dr. Grosser and the Edevanes must be tight.”

“She’s making them money somehow. We should see if there’s any information about Dr. Grosser on the internet.”

“I already did. She’s got a doctorate in zoology.”

“Zoology? So, are the subjects she’s referring to animals?”

“They must be.”

“Where do you think she’s conducting the experiments?”

“She must be doing them at the factory.”

“If that’s the case, we need to get in there.”

“We need a keycard to get in.”

I thought about this for a moment. “Your mom works there.”

“So does my dad.”

“Even better.”

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: SWEETIE (1989)-HBO MAX

This week’s 80’s pick is a dark comedy co-written and directed by Jane Campion. Gerard Lee also helped pen the script. It was two-time Oscar winner Campion’s first full-length feature film. Sweetie tells the story of an introverted Australian woman in her early twenties named Kay (Karen Colston) who has an intense fear of trees and doesn’t quite fit in. Everyone at the factory where she works teases her about being a serial monogamist. Recently, being a bit superstitious, she has had her tea leaves read and has been told she is going to meet a man with a question mark on his face who will play an important part in her life.

Kay has a vivacious sister named Dawn (Geneviève Lemon), whom Kay has held a long-seated grudge against. Dawn goes by the nickname Sweetie. Sweetie was a talented child who has long suffered from mental illness and her family has suffered right along with her. One night, Dawn breaks into Kay’s house after serving a stint in a mental institution. Tagging along is Sweetie’s boyfriend Bob (Michael Lake), her drug addled would-be agent who has promised to make her famous. The couple has decided to stay at Kay’s flat despite Kay’s protestations until the sisters’ doting father Gordon (Jon Darling) shows up and tries to take Sweetie home.  

The film deals brilliantly with the ways families struggle to deal with a mentally ill family member and the way it distressingly affects their lives. The results are sometimes quite funny and at other times profoundly sobering. This is a deeper and heavier comedy than the other three 80’s films I’ve recommended but it is well worth the watch.  Rounding out the cast are Dorothy Barry as the sisters’ mother Flo and Tom Lycos as the mysterious man with the question mark on his face.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter six of my story Catzilla. This Tuesday, the thirtieth of May, I celebrated my birthday. Everyone sang Happy Birthday, drank Aquadent and had a lovely time. I did not, however, receive a diamond studded dog collar. Naturally, this was a great disappointment to me. Nonetheless, I was given a darling piece of jewelry: a new name tag. It is larger than my older one and in the same Garamond font as you can see in the picture below:

 I find it makes an altogether different chiming sound when I walk about and allow it to jingle against my rabies and license tags. It is not diamonds but it is lovely just the same. A true keepsake. Yet, I would have liked the diamond collar which I would look spectacular wearing. Christmas is only seven months away. And with that thought, here is chapter six of Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the Parti Poodle

Chapter Six

Ellery’s parents’ house stood at the end of the neighborhood street. It was more elevated than the other homes. It had nine windows plus bubbled glass all around the front door. I had passed by it a few times but never strolled up and knocked. My mother, however, had no trouble with the job. She marched up to the door, dog crate in hand and rang the doorbell.

We waited patiently until we saw footsteps approach through the bubbled glass. The door opened and a dour looking woman in a tailored suit answered. “Yes,” she said displeased.

“We believe this might belong to the residents of this home,” my mother said nodding towards the crate.

The woman took a sidelong glance at the crate and said, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“We found this kitten yesterday and believe it belongs to Ellery.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I believe it does. I will take the Felis Catus and alert her rightful owner.”

The woman went to pick up the crate, but my mother stopped her. “The kitten may be yours,” she said, “but the crate belongs to us.”

“I will return your low-rate crate directly.”

The woman grabbed the crate’s handle, took the kitten in the house, and shut the door leaving my mother and I standing on the grandiose porch with the elegant pillars and the golden overhead light.

“What if she doesn’t come back with the crate?” I asked.

“Then we’ll go inside and retrieve it.”

“Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

“Taking our crate and not returning it is stealing. I hardly think our crossing their threshold to retrieve what is rightfully ours gives them the higher ground.”

Luckily, we didn’t have to storm the house because the woman in the suit returned post haste, with Harlow’s now empty crate. She opened the door, set it down beside my mother and said, “Thank you for returning the Felis Catus. Then she shut the door and left.

“It doesn’t look like we’ll be getting a finder’s reward,” I said.

“I never thought we would.”

I didn’t think about the kitten much after that. I finished my week in detention and managed to avoid Ellery by ignoring him in class and taking a different route home. Then Friday evening rolled around. After I finished my shift at the restaurant and was coming home, I saw Lyle out in his front yard playing tetherball.

“Hey, Briar,” he said.

“Hey, Lyle.”

“You want to play tetherball with me?”

“I just got off my shift at the restaurant. Maybe tomorrow afternoon or something.”

“Okay…say, I was wondering…I was wondering if you were going to that spring fling dance.”

“I hadn’t even thought about the spring fling dance. I never went to school dances. In fact, I avoided all social school activities. My mother told me this was a terrible idea. She said I couldn’t just rely on playing badminton either. “Grades alone aren’t going to get you into college,” she said. “If you want to go to a university, and I use the word “want” lightly, you need to figure out one or two activities to engage in and engage in them soon.” I knew mom was right. But I had to find activities I could tolerate.

“Um…I’ll have to think about it, Lyle.”

“Oh…well, if you do decide you want to go, my mom could drive us. She could ask your mom if it’s okay.”

“I can’t promise anything, Lyle.”

“Well…let me know what you decide.”

As I headed towards my house, I noticed our next-door neighbor Mrs. Thorndach standing in her driveway setting a small shiny silver steel bowl in front of a kitten. Ellery’s kitten. The kitten sauntered up to the bowl and ate. I had to look twice to make sure it was the same cat. But it had that unmistakable red coat.

“Mom,” I said when I got inside. “Ellery’s kitten is on the loose again.”

“It is?” she said.

“Mrs. Thorndach is feeding it in her driveway as we speak.”

“What’s the matter with those Edevanes anyway?”

“I don’t know. What do you think we should do?”

My mother pondered my question. “I think the best thing we can do is watch the kitten and wait. We just took the poor thing back to them and they let it loose again. If I didn’t have this wretched asthma, I’d let it stay here.”

“It’s odd they just let it go again after we found it and gave it back.”

“I got an email today from Lyle’s mother. She’s offering to give you a ride to that spring fling dance. Is that something you wanted to attend?”

“I don’t know.” I really didn’t want to go. But now I felt obligated because Lyle went and asked his mother.

“Do you need a dress for that?”

I sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You don’t have to go with Lyle. I’m perfectly capable of driving you there if you want to go by yourself.”

I nodded. The last thing I wanted to do was buy a stupid dress and wear it to a stupid dance.

“Think about it and let me know.”

“I need to go do my homework,” I said and headed to my room.

This was not the last time I saw the kitten out and about. In fact, I saw it at a different house every day that week. And every time I saw it someone was feeding it. At the end of the week, I noticed the kitten grew to the size of a full-grown cat.

At lunch the following Tuesday, Lyle came over to my table.

“Hi, Briar.”

“Hi, Lyle.”

“May I?” he asked sheepishly.

 I gestured towards the empty chair across from me.

He sat down and said, “I haven’t heard from you for days. I see you in the halls sometimes, but it’s crowded and hard for me to catch up to you.

“I’ve been busy.”

“With badminton?”

“With life in general. Say, have you seen a reddish colored kitten with oversized ears prowling around our neighborhood?”

“Hmm. Actually, yeah. I did. I was outside playing tetherball when I saw a cat of that description prowling around. I think my neighbor fed it.”

“I’ve seen it every day for over a week. And each time someone feeds it. I think it’s grown. When I first saw it a couple of weeks ago, it was a scrawny malnourished kitten. Now it’s like a full-grown cat.”

Lyle took a thoughtful drink of his green sports drink. “You sure it grew that fast?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe it wasn’t as small as you thought it was.”

“It was a tiny, emaciated kitten. My mom and I took it to the vet to find out if it had been chipped and it hadn’t. But it belongs to Ellery.”

Lyle nodded. “Ellery, huh,” he said taking another pull off his sports drink. “I could bug his house if you wanted.”

“Seriously?”

Lyle shrugged. “Yeah. I made a bug last summer. Worked well. I listened in on my parents a lot. They’re pretty concerned about my not having friends.”

“How would you get it into his house?”

“I tutor him.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He struggles in science. I can do it this evening if you like. I’ll tape their conversations and bring them to you.”

“When?”

“How about Friday evening?”

“How about Saturday afternoon?”

Lyle nodded. “Saturday afternoon it is.”

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: TAPEHEADS (1988)-PLEX.TV

The third 80’s movie sleeper choice comes from producer Mike Nesmith of The Monkeys. This comedy satire was released one year before Say Anything with John Cusack playing a very different type of character from Lloyd Dobber. The story is about two high school graduates Josh Tager (Tim Robbins) who showed talent as a film director but has not yet been successful and his sleezy but loyal friend Ivan Alexeev (John Cusack) who find themselves working mundane jobs as security guards. It is Josh’s birthday and Ivan has decided to throw a big bash. Josh knows how to work the surveillance system, so it looks like the halls have no one in them. But things go awry, the boys get caught and they end up fired.

The two decide to join forces and form Video Aces, a production company with Josh as the creative talent and Ivan as the businessman. The two get a job shooting a commercial for a local restaurant and the doors start kicking in including filming a funeral. But their biggest success comes when they are hired to shoot a music video for the rock group The Blender Children.

There are several cameos of famous musicians in the film such as Sam Moore of Sam and Dave, Connie Stevens, Junior Walker, Weird Al Yankovic, Ted Nugent, Courtney Love, and Michael Nesmith. This film contains one of my all time favorite movie scenes featuring King Cotton who steals the show.

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here on this glorious spring day to present to you Chapter Five of my story Catzilla. If you have never met me before, I am a six-pound parti poodle, who writes short stories and owns a novelist. This week we are experiencing what we like to call summer snow. This is when the tufts of the cotton wood trees start to float in the air much like snowflakes. It is rather lovely to watch, especially in the sunshine. The Maltese, however, is distressed by the fact that one cannot build a snowman out of summer snow. But then again, he is a sub-intellectual breed of dog and no match for the superior mind of a parti poodle. He cannot appreciate the finer things in life like Shakespeare, Mozart, and Better Call Saul.

I must tell you I have begun planning my summer activities. I would like to voyage to the seashore and fly a kite. I am planning on partaking of a ride to the country where I will panic and bark excessively all the way. I will take morning walks with my novelist and point out the different flora and fauna along the way whether she wishes to notice them or not. And I will avoid fireworks at all costs. Those dreadful things are far too loud for my tastes. And of course, I will continue telling my tale Catzilla. I should also mention this Tuesday the thirtieth of May is my birthday. The Maltese is planning a surprise party for me where I and my many admirers will partake of canapés and water spiked with Aquadent. This year he has promised me a lovely cake for which I am more than deserving. I have put in a request for a new collar, one with diamonds this time. Beautiful poodles deserve beautiful things you see. And with that thought, here is chapter five of my story Catzilla. Jouir!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Two

I spent most of the day thinking about the kitten. After I’d finished my homework in detention, I drew a picture of it sitting in my garage with the overhead light illuminating its green eyes, its stealth fighter ears flattened back, and its fangs bared. Quincy leaned over and said, “That is one angry cat. Is it a self-portrait?” I ignored him and touched up the picture as I waited for my second day in detention to end.

When I finally got to leave the classroom and head home, I felt a huge sense of relief. The sun shone a little brighter, the sky looked a little bluer and the spring flowers smelled a little sweeter. That was until I heard Ellery’s electric bicycle rolling down the opposite side of the street.

“Hey, Briar,” he said with a condescending sneer. “How’s it hanging?”

“I don’t have time for this,” I said looking straight ahead. “I’m on a mission.”

“A mission, huh. Sounds serious.”

“It is serious.”

“What’s the mission?”

“My mother needs me to do something.”

“Sounds lame.”

“Lame or not it’s my mission and I’m doing it.”

“You know what I’m going to do?”

“I couldn’t care less.”

“I’m going to take your school picture, superimpose it on a porn star and post it online.”

“I’m surprised your vocabulary includes “superimpose.”

“And everyone at school is going to see it and send it to everyone they know.”

“You’re going through a lot of trouble to irritate me.”

“I’m just telling you what I’m going to do.”

As we approached my driveway, I could see my mother putting Harlow’s crate behind the driver’s side. “Briar,” she called and waved to me.

“See? My mom needs me to go on a mission.”

I started towards the car when Ellery said, “Did you find a kitten by chance?”

I stopped, turned, and faced him. “What?”

“A reddish-brown kitten. She’s our newest pet. We thought our two Himalayans needed a toy, so we gave them a kitten.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“Anyway, the kitten ran off and we can’t find it anywhere. I was just wondering if you’d seen it wandering around the neighborhood.”

“Mom,” I called out. “I think the kitten belongs to Ellery.” Mom looked at us. I could tell by the way she put her hand on her hip she didn’t like the situation.

“Really,” she said.

“Hello, Briar’s mom,” Ellery said and waved.

“Get away from my daughter.”

“Sounds like you and Briar found a kitten.”

“Briar, come here.” I continued towards my mother. Ellery wheeled his bike a little closer to our driveway. “Go home, Ellery.”

“That kitten you found belongs to me.”

“Then you must have taken a picture of it.”

“Uh…yeah…”

“Show it to me. Right now.”

Ellery was starting to understand my mother meant business. He leaned his bike to one side as he took out his phone and scrolled through his pictures. “It’s here somewhere…”

“How hard can it be, Ellery? You’re a teenager. You’re addicted to your phone. Half your life is spent filming videos and taking pictures.”

“Just hang on. I’ll find it.”

My mother narrowed her eyes. “Show it to me later, Ellery. Briar and I are on a mission.”

“That’s what Briar said.”

“And stop talking to my daughter. She doesn’t like you and frankly neither do I.”

“Harsh.”

My mother hopped in the car, turned on the engine and started backing out. I looked over at Ellery’s confused face and smiled.

We pulled up to the front of the Emergency Animal Hospital which was at the end of a strip mall and parked. We got out and mom grabbed the crate from behind the driver’s side seat and we headed for the automatic doors.

A veterinary nurse wearing a mask came out to greet us. “Hi,” she said obviously blocking anyone from entering the hospital. “What do we have here?”

“We found a kitten,” my mom said. “It didn’t have a collar or tags, so we came here to find out if it is microchipped.”

“Oh, sure,” the nurse said. “Stay out here and I’ll go get two readers and we’ll scan the kitten with both.”

“Thank you.”

My mother set the crate down by her side and I could hear the kitten clawing at the bars. “I think it’s actually Ellery’s kitten,” I said.

“Probably is,” my mother said. “I hope he and his parents had the sense to get it microchipped.”

“Harlow isn’t microchipped.”

“True. But we’re responsible pet owners. Ellery and his parents are not.”

“You’re likely right. But we don’t know that for sure.”

The nurse returned with her two devices. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this little sweetheart out of the cage.”

“Okay,” my mother said before she knelt and popped the latch on the crate and opened the door.

I have to say, I was impressed my mother somehow got the “little sweetheart” in the cage in the first place.

“Okay, sweetie,” the nurse said to the kitten. “Let’s see if we can figure out who your mommy or daddy are.”

She pulled a pair of medical gloves out of her smock, snapped them on and slowly reached into the crate. She gingerly took hold of the kitten who hissed and took a swipe at her.

“Someone’s fussy, aren’t they?”

The kitten, not fond of being patronized, hissed louder. The veterinary nurse took the first device which looked like an electronic paddle and swiped it over the kitten several times in several places. “Nothing with that one,” she said. “Let’s try the other.” She swiped the second electronic paddle over the kitten several times in several places. “Nope. The kitten isn’t chipped. She doesn’t look like a stray…she does look a bit hungry though. What I would suggest is to take her home, feed her one of our cans of cat food we have here at the clinic and see if we can get her up to a healthy weight.”

“Alright,” my mother said as the veterinary nurse put the distempered feline back in the crate.

After we purchased the overpriced canned cat food and put Harlow’s crate behind mom’s seat we climbed in the car, shut the doors and I said, “We should take the kitten over to Ellery’s. I’m pretty sure it’s their cat.”

“Those two nasty Havanas will tear it apart.”

“But we can’t keep it at our house. I can already tell you’re wheezing from its dander.”

“I’m fully aware of my suffering. But we can’t just turn her over to them to be destroyed.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, mom. You know they have its papers, and it was probably expensive.”

“Perhaps. But I have a bad feeling about this whole thing.”

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: VALLEY GIRL (1983)-SHOWTIME

My second pick of 80’s sleepers is a wonderful time capsule with gowns designed by Jessica McClintock, one of the hot designers of the era. In fact, all the clothes in the film are a lot of fun and in strong contrast to the drab fast fashion garbage made today that no teenager should be swindled into wearing.

The movie is set in the San Fernando Valley in California as well as Hollywood to provide a Romeo and Juliet based teenage tale. Julie Richman (Deborah Forman) is the daughter of well-to-do former hippies Steve Richman (Frederic Forest) and Sarah Richman (Colleen Camp) who own a successful health food store. Julie is a Valley Girl from wealthy upper middle-class suburbia. She is well liked and has a circle of attractive friends including Stacey (Heidi Holicker), Suzi (Michelle Meyrink) and Loryn (Elizabeth Daily). They spend their days attending a posh high school and going shopping at the local mall. Julie had been dating preppy boyfriend Tommy (Michael Bowen) but the two recently broke up. No surprise as Tommy is a liar, a bully, and a scumbag who, after the breakup, takes no time aggressively and covertly pursuing Loryn.

One day on the beach, Julie happens to see an attractive new boy named Randy (Nicolas Cage in his first leading role in a major motion picture) and the two are instantly smitten. Randy, however, is reluctant to approach her because he is a punker who comes from the far less opulent Hollywood area. But his best friend Fred Bailey (Cameron Dye), a more happy-go-lucky optimist, encourages Randy to join him in crashing a party Julie is going to be attending. The two punker boys show up looking quite a bit different from the preppy crowd. But despite their opposing backgrounds Randy and Julie find the attraction between them is quite strong and thus begins the odyssey of these two star-crossed lovers.

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

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Between one and two.”

“One or two in the morning?”

“Didn’t you hear it caterwauling?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

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

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

“What if a racoon caught it?”

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

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

“Where is it now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if she doesn’t have a chip?”

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

“What if no one ever claims her?”

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: BETTER OFF DEAD (1981)-PLUTO TV

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

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

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

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

“Practicing tetherball.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

“What do you do now?”

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

“What do you do after school?”

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

“Cats?”

“Yes. I draw other things too.”

“Do you draw people?”

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

“Work math problems.”

“Math problems?”

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

“Like what?”

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

“Wow. Does it work?”

“I think so. I haven’t tried it yet.”

“What do you think you’d try it on?”

“I haven’t decided.”

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

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

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

“She’s cute,” he said.

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

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

“See you tomorrow, Lyle.”

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

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

“I had to sit next to Quincy.”

“Who’s Quincy?”

“Someone I never want to meet again.”

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

“That’s grim, mom.”

“Grim but true.”

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

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

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

“What are you looking at?” mom asked.

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

“Maybe one of the neighbors just got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I glared at him and said nothing.

“You mute or something?”

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

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

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

“It’s too small for a dog.”

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

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

“I’m busy. What do you want?”

“You want to go out sometime?”

He had to be kidding. “No.”

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

“I don’t date reptiles.”

“You should be grateful I asked you out.”

“I’m grateful I’m not going.”

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

“Good luck with that.”

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

“You can leave any time.”

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

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: MRS. HARRIS GOES TO PARIS (2022)-AMAZON PRIME

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

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

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