Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter sixteen of my story Catzilla. This week my novelist and I went to the theatre and took in the film Oppenheimer because we like it when our fellow NTs make movies about NTs (Christopher Nolan is an INTJ and Oppenheimer is an INTJ). The next day my novelist and I perused reviews of the film which we mostly agreed with as being a great movie. However, there was one major disagreement we had with the movie we haven’t yet found amongst the critics and that was how small a part Richard Feynman plays in the story. Yes, he’s in it but not as much as my novelist thinks he should be. Oppenheimer is a heavy film with little to no humor and we think Feynman, who was not only a genius, but a bit of a prankster may have added some much-needed levity to the story. Also, we think perhaps one could look at the scientists Einstein, Oppenheimer, and Feynman as a trinity at that point in history: the professor emeritus, the professor in his prime, and the young professor apprentice. We think more focus on this may have made for a stronger story. We appreciate this is a heady and dense film and would easily recommend it, but many great dramas have flourished with a bit of levity, and we think some gifted young actor could have benefited from such a role as well as adding panache to the film. Anyway, that’s our two cents. And now here is chapter sixteen of my story Catzilla.    

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Sixteen

I hurried over to my mom and tapped her on the shoulder. She whipped around and I showed her Lyle’s text.

“Ask him where he is,” she told me.

I texted Lyle:

            Where RU?

I waited a couple of minutes, but he didn’t reply. “He hasn’t texted back.”

“Be patient.”

Suddenly, we heard a thud. Not a small thud like an object falling off a counter or a kid landing on his feet. This was a big thud, a huge thud, like a large tree falling over. The sound came from the gym entrance. Then I heard that horrible raspy noise the kitten had made like it had smoked cigarettes for years. But it was louder and raspier than before.

My mom ran over to the gym teacher Mr. Schermer who was guarding the entrance and motioned for him to shut the doors. Mr. Schermer kicked away the large orange wedge holding the heavy doors open. But as the doors began to close a large fluffy red paw took a swipe at him and ripped his shirt.

“Holy cats!” he exclaimed. “What was that?!”

This time I didn’t text Lyle, I called him. The phone rang several times and went to voicemail. I hung up and dialed again. Still no answer. I looked up and my mother shoved her cattle prod at the kitten. The kitten swatted its paw and caught my mom by the hair.

“Mom!” I screamed and ran over to the door. I grabbed the cattle prod which had clattered to the floor and zapped the kitten with it again. And then again.

The cat caterwauled and hung onto my mom’s hair. I zapped the thing again and this time it was enough for my mother to untangle herself from its claw. Mom ran to Mr. Schermer and the two of them forced the door shut. Mr. Schermer fumbled for his keys and locked the doors.

Suddenly, I realized pandemonium had broken out. Kids were screaming and crying, running around in circles, and knocking each other over. I stormed the stage, grabbing the microphone away from the singer who, like the rest of the band, was frozen in fear.

“Stop!” I yelled. “You’re going to hurt each other!” But the kids just kept running around and banging into one another.

“What was that…thing?” the lead singer asked me.

“A cat.”

“Like an oversized cougar or something?”

The lead guitarist stepped up to the microphone and played the loudest, most obnoxious sound I’ve ever heard come out of a musical instrument. That got the kids’ attention. All eyes turned to the stage.

“We need to make sure all the doors in here are shut and locked,” I said into the microphone.

“I’ll get the other doors,” Mr. Schermer said and headed to the other side of the gym.

“What was that thing?” Principal Doofus demanded.

“A kitten,” I said.

“A…kitten? That thing is bigger than any kitten I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s no ordinary kitten. It’s a science project at the Edevane plant.”

“What kind of science project?”

“The only person here who might know is Ellery Edevane.”

Everyone started looking around the room for Ellery. But no one could find him.

“He was just standing in the corner with Quincy a moment ago.”

The kids working lights and sound turned the spotlight on the corner. But both Ellery and Quincy were gone.

“You’re trying to tell us that monster out there was a kitten?” Mr. Relish, my science teacher asked. “There’s no way a house cat could get that big.”

“But a blowfish can expand up to four times its normal size. Why couldn’t a kitten, an unusual kitten, do the same?”

“A kitten doesn’t have the elastic type of stomach a blowfish has.”

Principal Doofus marched up on stage and grabbed the microphone from me. “I’m the principal here and I’m running the show. I want all you students to make four lines. I want the seniors on my far left,” he said pointing his finger. “Then I want the juniors to line up next to them, then the sophomores and then the freshmen.”

The students grumbled and began lining up.

“What do you want us to do?” the band’s drummer asked.

“Stay put. Don’t leave the stage until I say so.” Then he turned to the students and said, “Alright, kids, let’s move it!”

The students finished filing into the four lines.

“Now, the first order of business is to remain calm. I doubt this thing outside is a giant kitten. It’s likely an oversized bear or an animal that escaped from a zoo, or possibly a circus animal that abandoned its trainer.

“It looked like a big kitten paw to me,” Mr. Schermer said.

“What we do know is something is out there and it’s dangerous.”

“You don’t know the half of it!”

Everyone turned their attention to the back of the gym. Standing there was Lyle. Somehow, he’d managed to slip inside the back door.

“What are you talking about, Concord?”

“That kitten has been roaming around the neighborhoods near the school. The more people fed it the larger it got.”

“What?”

“I’m saying we built a monster…well, the Edevanes’ built a monster, but we were the real guinea pigs here.”

“Because we fed a stray kitten?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everyone will soon.”

Suddenly, there was another loud thump. Mr. Schermer ran over to the main entrance. “Holy cats! The thing is slamming its paws against the door!”

“It’s time for action,” Principal Doofus said. “I want us to build a fortress. If we are going to be safe from this thing, we need a blockade. Seniors, I want you to get all the gymnastic mats and put them up against the doors. Let’s move!”

The seniors headed over to the closets where the mats had been stored away for the dance. They hauled them out with three people to a mat: one at the front, one in the middle and one at the end. They built a wall of mats up against the front door and the rear door. As they did, I quietly left the stage and headed over to my mom.

“How are we going to get out of here?” I asked her.

“We’ll need to come up with an evacuation plan. But more importantly we’ll need to know how to stop that cat.”

“Fantastic, kids,” Principal Doofus said. “Now, I’m going to call the police and have them help us get out of here.”

Five minutes later we heard sirens approaching. The only windows in the gym were the ones on the doors.

“Mr. Schermer,” the principal asked. “Can you look outside and give us an update?”

“The police have their guns raised,” Mr. Schermer said. “They are pointing them at the cat.”

We all heard a single patrol rifle shot fire.

“They…holy cats! The kitten just slapped the guns right out of their hands!”

“The kitten is slapping them around like a toy! It’s tossing them in the air! The cat is juggling the police officers! They’re landing on the ground…badly! One of them just got up. He’s running for his vehicle. He’s leaving! He’s driving off!”

“I think you’d better come up with an escape plan, mom,” I said.

“So, it seems,” my mom replied.

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: THE VERDICT (1982)-HBO MAX

This week’s pick is a rare film with a superb cast of actors, a legendary playwright & screenwriter (David Mammet), and a highly skilled director (Sidney Lumet). Based on the novel by Barry Reed it is the story of Frank Galvin (Paul Newman in a fantastic Oscar nominated performance) a gifted lawyer who, after being screwed over in his younger days by his former law firm has become an alcoholic and a failure in his trade having had only four court cases in the last three year all of which he lost. One day, his only friend and retired ex-partner Mickey Morrissey (Jack Warden) brings him a case which he forgets about for months until he is due to present it. The case involves a young pregnant woman named Deborah Ann Kaye who, after being admitted to St. Catherine Labouré Hospital after what should have been a routine delivery loses her baby and ends up in a permanent coma. Frank goes to see Kaye in the care unit she will now spend the rest of her life in. After taking pictures of her, Frank sees a parallel to the way he was treated by his former firm and the way she is being treated by a prestigious hospital and for once in his ambulance chasing life, he connects to the client he is defending. He turns down the $210,000 the hospital and Catholic church offers and instead prepares to go to court against a powerful New York law firm headed by Ed Concannon (James Mason). Charlotte Rampling also delivers a wonderful performance as Frank’s love interest Laura Fischer. And David Mammet’s then wife Lindsay Crouse plays Kaitlin Costello Price.

Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle sending greetings to you from the beach. As you can see from the photograph below, I am lounging on a lovely cream-colored couch in a quaint little cottage by the sea. After working on the garage sale my novelist treated me…and unfortunately Tucker the Maltese to a getaway by the ocean to relax and listen to the melodious sounds of the seagulls flying in the sky. While here we encountered some unusual bugs. Upon downloading a bug identifying application we found it was the Strawberry Root Weevil, a harmless little pest which our temporary abode’s host helped us out with posthaste.

Our cottage is quite unique in that it contains an extensive and eclectic library. I have been partaking of a book of Aesop’s Fables. I read it out loud to teach the Maltese how to behave in a proper manner. Although, he is struggling with the concepts. After that I intend to conquer Asimov’s Guide to Shakespeare by Issac Asimov for some light summer reading. And with that thought, here is chapter fifteen of Catzilla. Enjoy and may the clams be with you.  

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Fifteen

I stood in front of the standing mirror in my room examining my mint green dress with the vertical sequins and matching mint green shoes with the straps and the silver buckles. I studied my reflection and decided I looked stylish. Usually, I don’t wear makeup but tonight I wore a little pastel eyeshadow, light pink blush, pale pink lipstick, and a touch of mascara. Even with the sparse makeup I looked quite different. But I was okay with that. Sometimes it’s fun to be different.

My mother knocked on my bedroom door. “Are you ready to go, Briar?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

She came into the room, looked at me and said, “You’re a princess.”

I growled.

“Oh, come on. Just because you look like a princess doesn’t mean you don’t have the mind of a nuclear physicist.”

“Lyle is the nuclear physicist.”

“Lyle wouldn’t be your friend if you couldn’t go toe to toe with him intellectually.”

“You look fantastic too,” I said suddenly realizing my mother was dressed up as well.

“I felt like putting on the ritz. I’m fed up with this company I’m working for.”

“Why?”

“They cannot get through their heads they are about to spend millions of dollars on all the wrong things and not on the right things. They want to run their company based on fads instead of what’s in their best interest. They think their moving forwards but instead their heading backwards.”

“What are you going to do?”

My mom sighed. “Try to get them to turn the boat in a different direction. Someday you may find yourself in the same dilemma.” She studied my reflection in the mirror. “You look like you could use an accessory.”

“Okay…” I said warily, not being one to accessorize.

Mom handed me a small box wrapped with silver paper tied up with a green satin bow. “I thought you might like this.”

I untied the green ribbon and unwrapped the velvet box. I opened the spring lid to find a heart shaped sterling silver locket with a hand engraved floral design and near the point of the heart was an imbedded 14k gold puppy paw print with a small diamond in the center.

“Do you like it?”

“I do,” I said surprised.

“You should put it on.”

I removed the locket from the box and fastened it around my neck. It looked perfect with the mint green dress.

“Where did you get it?”

“Beryl’s Jewelers,” she said. “They make them in their shop. I had them add the paw because of how much you like dogs.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Of course.” My mom looked at her watch. “We’d better get going. I need to arrive at the dance early. The chaperones are meeting beforehand to go over what the rules are you kids need to follow and all that.”

For not being a prom, the dance was rather spectacular. The committee had decided on a King Kong theme which I thought was strange. A couple of students must have been into the new version of the film that had just come out and the accompanying video game. There was a huge blowup King Kong set up at the front of the gym. It depicted the Empire State Building with King Kong hanging off it with Ann Darrow clenched in his hand. A large arrangement balloons in the school colors green and red arched over it. The basketball court had been blocked off to protect the floor. The school sprung for a live band which played familiar pop songs as the kids danced.

I scanned the gym for Lyle. I regretted our last conversation and hoped he’d forgotten about it and would make an appearance. As I searched, Ellery sided up to me.

“Well, well,” he said. “Look at what the cat dragged in.”

Quincy slithered up beside him, of course, which made me wonder what conversation had gone on between them about Lyle and I acquiring the tranquilizers.

“So, how’s about that dance?” Ellery continued.

“Get lost,” I said.

“I don’t see your freaky friend around. No one here to come to your rescue.”

About a year ago my mother had made me take yet another self-defense class and I found myself faced with a couple of choices. I could palm-heel Ellery in the face or grab him by the ear and slam my foot into the side of his knee, both of which seemed extreme. Or I could do the best self-defense move of all: escape the situation. So, I pushed myself off the wall I was leaning against and began walking away.

“Hey,” Quincy said and blocked me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

This, of course, meant my attempt to use my best self-defense move had been thwarted.

“There’s a lot of chaperones here. And unlike when our parents were teenagers, they had the good sense to keep the place well-lit and not dark where they can’t see you. Now, get out of my way.”

Ellery stepped up to the other side of me making sure I was trapped. “Let me teach you some arithmetic, Gagnon,” he said. “You came to this dance, and I came to this dance. Now we’re going to dance.”

Just then, I heard a crackling sound. Quincy screamed and hit the floor with a thud. Suddenly, I saw my mother stick a cattle prod into Ellery’s side. The prod crackled, Ellery yelped, and hit the floor. She stuck the rod into Quincy’s side zapping him again and then repeated the action on Ellery.

“I know they’ll never want me to chaperone again,” my mom said. “But it was worth it.”

“Since when did you start carrying cattle prods?” I asked.

“Since I knew Ellery would be at the dance. Have you seen Lyle anywhere?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Have you tried texting him?”

“Yes. He never answered.”

“Huh.”

“I’m in pain!” Quincy said.

“Then you shouldn’t have harassed my daughter,” my mom told him.

“I’ll have my parents fire you!” Ellery groaned.

“I don’t work for your parents,” my mom said. “Briar, get out of this corner, text Lyle again and failing that go and look for him.”

I did as my mother said and followed her away from Ellery and Quincy. I texted Lyle:

            R U @ the dance?

I waited for a reply and still didn’t get one. I headed over to the entrance to the gym, walked up the steps to the main door and scanned around. I still could not find Lyle.

Suddenly, we all heard a siren. Not a normal siren like you would hear from a police car or a fire truck or an ambulance, but the kind you would hear as a warning for a natural disaster. The band stopped playing. Confusion filled the gym with students whispering, “what’s that?” and “what’s going on?” The chaperones all moved together into the center of the dance floor and began talking. My mother looked around. Our mutually confused eyes met. My phone buzzed. I looked at it. It was a text from Lyle:

            Kitten coming your way!

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: LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL (1994)-NETFLIX

One of the best movies streaming on Netflix right now is this marvelous gem from 1994. It was written and directed by the wonderful Luc Besson who also wrote and directed the original la femme Nikita. Leon (fantastically played by Jean Reno) is a fastidious professional hitman living in New York City. He works for delicatessen shop owner Tony (Danny Aiello) who holds Leon’s money for him like a bank.

Leon lives in an apartment building where he takes great care of his beloved house plant, drinks milk, keeps himself in shape and maintains a low profile. His next-door neighbors are a husband and wife who have three children: a teenage girl, a preschool boy, and a middle child, a tweener named Mathilda (Natalie Portman in her brilliant first major motion picture performance). Mathilda is a smart and plucky but abused child and Leon always sees her sitting in the hall secretly smoking with new bruises on her face.

Mathilda’s abusive father (Michael Badalucco) has a drug running business relationship with a psychopath named Stansfield (Gary Oldman in a gleefully disturbed performance) and when Stansfield comes to collect, Mathilda’s father comes up short. Stansfield gives Mathilda’s father until noon the following day to come up with the missing dope. But Mathilda’s father does not have the missing dope. He’s been skimming a sizable sum of the profits and hiding it in the apartment. And Stansfield knows it. The next day at noon, things get ugly, and Leon finds himself having to choose between maintaining his low profile or using his special set of skills to protect Mathilda.

Netflix is running the original release of the film as opposed to the Director’s Cut which contains extra footage that gives more insight into Leon and Mathilda’s friendship. That said, even without the missing footage this is a spectacular film in every respect and a must see 90’s classic.

Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle up bright and early today to bring you the fourteenth chapter of my story Catzilla. This morning my novelist woke me at dawn to rush me off to work at a garage sale. I am not certain if this is a good thing or not. Unfortunately, the Maltese will be joining us, preferably whilst locked in a room. I shall take it upon myself to be the director of this gala. If anyone tries to cause any trouble, I shall give them a thorough barking at. This rummage sale shall run as smoothly as the silk pillow I have always deserved. I shall oversee all finances as well. Poodles are excellent at math. I shall run a perfect till and be the envy of all garage sale till overseers. I will become famous for my extraordinary management skills. Fortune 500 companies will be begging me to run their companies. They will be fighting over me, offering me golden parachutes as none have ever been offered before. I shall become a Wall Street legend. I will be interviewed by Fortune magazine, The Wall Street Journal and Jim Cramer. I will be the face of the American economy. Nothing’s going to stop me now.

Gigi, we need more quarters.

Shut up, Tucker, you mangy cur. And now here is chapter fourteen of Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Fourteen

We only saw the kitten once more after that. It was in Ellery’s driveway three days later eating out of a large red bowl. Not only had it reached the one hundred pounds Dr. Grosser predicted it would reach, but it had also packed on twenty more making it the size of a small cougar. Then for one reason or another it vanished.

This bothered me a lot at first. I kept waking up at night thinking a huge kitten would burst through my bedroom window and rip me to shreds. But no such incident occurred. After a week went by, I turned my focus to my studies. My mother started her new assignment at a new company. I asked her what kind of company it was. She told me they specialized in psychology for investment planning. They’d brought her in to help work out some issues they’d had with cash flow.

Lyle continued to listen for more audio on the kitten but there was little to report. We stopped hearing anything of interest the day after we’d listened to the first recordings. Lyle concluded that the kitten must have lost the tracker somewhere. Or maybe someone found our bug and destroyed it.

“Do you think they’ll track the bug back to us?” I asked him.

“It’s possible but unlikely,” he said.

I started thinking more and more about my dad’s disappearance. I considered bringing it up to my mother a few times but thought better of it. Twelve days before the spring formal we were sitting at the dinner table when she suddenly asked me, “Is Lyle taking you to the dance or are you going solo?”

“I’m not going to the dance at all,” I told her.

“Isn’t it the biggest dance of the year outside of the prom?”

“Yes. But I don’t like social functions.”

“Neither do I. But sometimes we need to participate. Not to mention I signed up to be a chaperone.”

“Why?”

“That way you don’t have to go there alone.”

“I’m still not going. I’ve got a load of homework. If I go, I’ll never get it done.”

“You’ll get it done.”

“You’ve never chaperoned anything in your life.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

I glanced over at my father’s picture on the hutch where the silverware was kept. He seemed to look at me and say, “do what your mother says”. I sighed and said, “Alright. I’ll go.”

On Tuesday evening before the stores closed, my mom and I went out and looked at dresses for the dance. We stopped at a boutique called Ribbons & Roses. I ended up buying a mint green cocktail dress with rows of vertical sequins. Then we went hunting for shoes at a place called Slippers. I chose a pair of matching mint green ballet flats with a thin strap across the top and a silver buckle. I didn’t mind the shopping, but I would have rather been buying the outfit for a nice dinner or a play instead of a school dance.

On Wednesday I was sitting outside eating my lunch when Lyle came up to me and said, “Have you seen the kitten today?”

“I haven’t seen him since last week,” I replied.

“What do you think is our plan of action?”

“I think we should go back to the Edevane Company’s factory and see if their keeping it there now.”

“I was thinking we should scout around the neighborhood for it. Are you free tonight?”

“No, I have a lot of studying to do. I’m required to go to the dance now because my mom volunteered to be a chaperone.”

Lyle’s face brightened up. “My mom can still take us.”

“No, thanks. My mom’s going to drive me.”

“Oh,” Lyle said disappointed. “Well, I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Lyle looked at me as if he was waiting for me to say something else. Then he got an embarrassed look on his face and left.

After a few minutes, Ellery sauntered up to me. “Hey, Briar,” he said in that smug tone of his.

“What do you want?”

“You going to that spring dance?”

I scrutinized his face. “Why?”

“It’s going to be a blast.”

“Because you won’t be there?”

“Oh, I’ll be there all right.” Then he laughed the most peculiar laugh I’ve ever heard. I noticed something strange in his eyes. Something I’d never seen before.

“What do you care if I go or not?”

“Thought you could save me a dance.”

“I don’t dance with parasites.”

“Oh, you’ll dance with me all right.”

“Not a chance.”

“You will if you know what’s good for you,” he said and wandered off whistling.

After lunch I head to biology class and wait for Lyle to come in and sit down in the seat next to me so we can work on the lab assignment. But by the time the bell rings he’s still not there. Lyle is never late.

“All right let’s quiet down and get started on these labs,” Mr. Relish said. “We’re already a day behind.”

Mr. Relish always tells us we’re a day behind. I keep looking at the door as I head over to the lab. But Lyle still doesn’t show. So, I’m working without a partner today. As I start to look over the assignment Ellery comes strolling over, leans into me from the opposite side of the countertop and says, “Scared Lyle off, did you?”

“He probably has a checkup or something he had to go to.”

Ellery laughed. “I’ve known that weirdo a long time and he never misses a class. Even when he’s sick. I saw you two chatting it up at lunch before I came over. I know something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up. And you shouldn’t spy on people.”

“Neither should you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you know what it means.”

“Ellery,” Mr. Relish said. “Why aren’t you working on your experiment?”

“Well, Briar’s all alone here and doesn’t have a partner.”

“Devin’s your partner, Ellery. Go work with him. Now.”

“You heard Mr. Relish,” I said. “Devin’s lonely.”

Ellery scoffed and pushed himself off the countertop. “I’ll be seeing you at the dance, twinkle toes,” he said, before he pointed at me and made a sound with his tongue like he’d make at a horse. Then he strolled back to Devin’s lab.

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: NITRAM (2021)-HULU

On April 28,1996, one of the worst tragedies in Australian history occurred in Port Arthur, Tasmania. A young twenty-nine-year-old man with long unruly blonde hair walked into a bed and breakfast called Seascape, a popular Port Arthur Historic Site, ordered a fruit cup and juice, and after consuming his meal shot and killed thirty-five people and wounded twenty-three others including several children. This is the story leading up to the horrific event.

Martin Bryant (Caleb Landry Jones in a brilliant chilling performance that deservedly won him Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival and should have gotten him an Oscar nod as well) nicknamed Nitram (Martin spelled backwards) by his peers is a highly disturbed and mentally challenged young man. His connection with reality is shaky at best. He likes to shoot off firecrackers whenever and wherever he pleases. He is not stable enough to have a drivers license, was unable to attend a normal school and is prone to erratic bursts of violence. His Mum (Judy Davis in a stunning performance that also shockingly did not receive an Oscar nod) is the cold weathered voice of reason. She is forced to tell Martin’s psychiatrist not to stop prescribing her son’s medicine. She is profoundly trapped with what is more of an unruly animal then a son and is married to Martin’s mentally unstable Dad (Anthony LaPaglia). Dad is a gentle soul but has horrific bouts of depression.

One day, Martin takes it upon himself to start a business cutting lawns and goes about the neighborhood trying to earn money. But his reputation precedes him and his actions like putting his foot in neighbor’s doors and lurching at them threateningly does not win him any gigs. That is until he meets fifty-year-old Helen (Essie Davis), an amiable but eccentric heiress who takes a liking to Martin. Martin genuinely attempts to mow Helen’s lawn, but his lawnmower gives out, so she gives him a job walking her fourteen or so dogs. The two take a liking to each other which proves to be like ammonia and bleach becoming friends. Helen begins giving Martin lavish gifts like Volvos and solid gold pendants with bulls on them. She even puts him in her will. But the one thing Martin asks for that she will not give him is a gun, which proves to be her sanest hour. An hour that sadly goes by far too quickly when things take a dark crucial turn.   

Nitram is by no means an easy watch, but it is an essential one. It is a well-crafted pot boiler by writer Shaun Grant and director Justin Kurzel who is known for his bold and crucial works that shake up audiences and make them think. Like movies are supposed to. The film does an excellent job condensing and examining the steps that lead up to Martin’s nightmarish act of pure unadulterated evil which, in one form or another, is just like all the other steps that lead up to all the other mass shootings. The film is never gratuitous and always tense as it weaves a profound message everyone needs to hear. Especially those who believe all humans think and act the same and fail to understand some people are profoundly dangerous. It just takes one aberrant reprobate to ruin millions of lives. Make it a point to watch the information provided on screen at the end of the movie. It is a sobering message on the nature of human beings who place more value on possessions than lives.  

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce chapter thirteen of my story Catzilla. This week my novelist and I, as many of you may have done, watched L’Interview with Rex Heuermann. We appreciate the interviewer and his film crew having done this piece. It is rare to get an opportunity to observe a real-life super psychopath in the wild (someone who scores 34 or above on the PCL-R) as this interviewer was able to capture and we wanted to point out some things that caught our attention about his subject.

1. His disregard for animals. The interviewer brings in his very cute dog Norman. Heuermann says “hello, Norman” and then immediately afterwards disregards him and says in a bored tone, “looks like it’s raining outside”. He never mentions having a pet of his own or how cute the dog is like a normal person would do. Although villains in films may be portrayed as having a cat they are constantly porting around, real psychopaths tend to have little to no interest in animals unless they are looking to victimize them. We poodles detest anyone who does not appreciate the Canis lupus familiaris.  
2. His flat affect. In contrast to the interviewer who has a very expressive face Heuermann has a flat affect or lack of emotion throughout the entire interview. He has what my novelist and I like to call a quasi-smile. In fact, at the end of the interview the interviewer and Heuermann take a selfie. The interviewer asks Heuermann if he can smile for the picture and Heuermann, still with his flat affect says, “That is (a smile)”. I myself do not often smile but my eyes express it all.
3. Animated hands. Heuerman uses his hands a lot when he talks. By doing this he is using what is called highly persuasive nonverbal behavior which psychopaths do to distract the listener from identifying their true nature. I often plant my paws on my novelist’s leg to let her know I demand she stop what she is doing and serve me.
4. Wide face. Men with wider faces have a greater tendency to have psychopathic traits. He also has deep set eyes which is another physical trait associated with psychopathy. I have a narrow nose. Who can resist a poodle with our fantastic narrow noses?
5. Distinctive eyebrows. Heuermann has heavy thick arched eyebrows which are related to narcissism. Not all narcissists are psychopathic, but all psychopaths are narcissists. He also exhibits a grandiose sense of self when he talks about how well he does his job. We poodles do not have eyebrows.
6. How to understand people. When the interviewer asked what his job has taught him, he responded “I think it has taught me how to understand people.” This is not a psychopathic trait per say but an observation on his taking pride in honing his manipulation skills. Note that he uses the word think not feel. And he repeats the word think as he continues answering the question. Psychopaths are thinkers not feelers. My novelist and I are thinkers, but we try to use our powers for good and not evil.
7. Highly intelligent. Psychopaths always have an above average IQ. Heuermann could not have become an architect without being intelligent. Also, his father was an aerospace engineer which, like architecture, requires a high IQ. I have a high IQ myself, but then I am a poodle, and we naturally have high IQs.
8. Speech patterns. Although more subtle than other psychopaths we’ve come across Heuermann still had a combination of approximately twenty-seven disfluencies, doubled words and subordinate conjunctions he used in the interview. His most common was the word because which he sometimes said as ‘cause.
9. What he does for a living. Architects are not on Dr Kevin Dutton’s fantastic survey he did in the UK to determine which occupations psychopaths are most likely to hold. However, though Heuermann may technically be an architect his job is really that of a CEO and lawyer. He owns his own firm and negotiates laws and contracts, which is what he excels at. Being a CEO is the first most common occupation and lawyer is the second most common occupation psychopaths gravitate towards according to Dr. Kevin Dutton’s survey. Heuermann is like the Las Vegas shooter who originally got his degree in accounting, which ironically is on Dr. Kevin Dutton’s other list of top ten jobs psychopaths are least likely to be drawn to, but quickly turned to selling real estate and became a salesman is the fourth most likely occupation for psychopaths. I am a creative writer. It would be extremely rare to encounter a creative writer who was a psychopath. Journalists are far more likely to be evil and rank number six on Dr. Dutton’s list.    
10. Family Issues. Psychopathy is hereditary and after watching the interview we found out his brother Craig Heuermann killed a police inspector in 1988 in a substantial auto wreck on the Southern State Turnpike in New York. Craig was drunk and high on cocaine at the time. He was charged with criminally careless murder and driving while inebriated. Craig Heuermann’s behavior is associated with MAOA, one of the six alleles connected with psychopathy. Psychopaths have a combination of at least four of these alleles. MAOA is linked to HSS which stands for High Sensation Seeking and is associated with risk taking and reckless behavior. One of the most frightening things about MAOA is people who have it seek out mates who have also inherited the allele.
11. His possessions. After the interview we found out police reportedly confiscated a child-like doll and more than 200 guns from his home. He also was found to have done 200 searches for child pornography.  
12. Much ado about the hammer. When we saw the interview the first time and the interviewer asked Heuermann if he were a tool or an object to bring his business to greater heights what tool would he be, Heuermann answered a cabinet maker’s hammer. Before we ever knew his response, we instinctively suspected he would choose a hammer. We were less impressed than others have been about his answer. What we found important was what he said to explain his answer which was how a hammer is persuasive and he uses it to persuade. This hooks back into his pride in knowing how to understand people, another clue about his focus on manipulation. That to us was more telling than the object itself. That is what caught our attention.

And there you have it. Now here is chapter thirteen of Catzilla. Enjoy!

Catzilla

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Thriteen

After we bugged the cat, Lyle began monitoring it and recording its travels. It continued to eat food out of various bowls in various neighbor’s driveways. After a week passed and the kitten had gained another twenty pounds or so, Lyle came over to my house with the recordings.

“Hello, Lyle,” my mother said when he showed up on our doorstep. “I suppose you’re here to see Briar about her cyborg project.”

Shock crossed Lyle’s face as if my mother had figured out our entire operation. “I…I wouldn’t call it a…”

“Hello, Lyle,” I said stepping up behind my mother. “You ready to show me the results?”

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“Would either of you care for some lemonade?” my mother asked. “I just made some.”

“Yes, please, Mrs. Gagnon.”

Lyle and I waited near the dining room table while my mother headed into the kitchen to fetch the lemonade. “Have you listened to the tapes yet?”

“Some. Does your mother make lemonade a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. My mom never makes lemonade or limeade for that matter.”

“My mom doesn’t trust any of the storebought stuff. She insists on squeezing the fruit herself.”

“Wow. Maybe I should try making my own. Maybe my mom would get the hint and start making lemonade and limeade too.”

“Here we go,” my mom said returning from the kitchen with two glasses of lemonade garnished with lemon wheels.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gagnon.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I take it you two want to use my office,” my mom said.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t mess with my computer. I have important work on it.”

“We won’t.”

Lyle and I headed into the office. “Do you have a set of headphones?” Lyle asked when we got inside.

“My mom does.”

“Get them.”

Lyle put on his pair which he had resting on his shoulders. I fetched my mom’s pair lying on top of a stack of papers. We sat down in the comfortable desk chairs and Lyle played the recording on his phone. Most of what we heard was a steady purring. Then some pitter pattering of the kitten walking around. Occasionally it lapped up water and munched food. But after several minutes we heard a vehicle, footsteps and then the sound of a man picking up the cat, the squeak of what we imagined was a cage door opening, closing, and locking and what sounded like the man walking up to the vehicle, putting the cat inside and the sliding a van door closed. 

We heard the engine rumble as the van drove away. And after twenty minutes when we thought the purr of the engine was all we’d ever hear, the van appeared to idle followed by the clattering of a metal gate and the van driving through.

After a minute, the van’s engine turned off and we heard the side door slide open. The driver said, “Boy you’re getting heavy,” as he grunted and struggled with the cage. This was followed by the cage being placed on something like a cart and the squeaking of the wheels as they turned. We assumed the cart or whatever was rolling over asphalt. After a short while, we heard a large heavy door open and close with equal vigor. The surface changed to a smooth path and the cart continued rolling along until we heard a buzz, the click of a lock releasing, a door opening, and the cart gliding forwards.

“Where do you want her, professor?” the driver asked.

“If you could get her out of the carrier and set her on the table, we can take it from there.” We recognized the voice as Professor Grosser.

“She’s going to come out of this cage mad like she did last time.”

“Put on your mask and gloves and you should be fine.”

The man sighed. “If you say so.”

Lyle and I listened as we heard the door of the carrier click open and a horrible loud low-toned hiss. This was followed by unearthly caterwauling and what sounded like a struggle.

“Augh!” the man exclaimed. “She tore my jacket!”

“Keep her away from your face.”

“No kidding!”

Suddenly, the man screamed, and Lyle and I both jumped as the hissing and caterwauling intensified. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

“Reed, would you be so kind as to assist him?”

The man screamed for a couple more seconds and then the struggle stopped.

“Thank you, Reed.”

“How much does that…thing weigh?!” the delivery man asked, his voice frenzied.

“Today she weighs eighty-five pounds. If you ask me in two days, she will weigh over one hundred.”

“She’s like a wolverine!”

“You remained unscathed.”

“Unscathed?! She ripped my jacket to pieces!”

“Reed, would you call the desk and make sure our delivery man here is compensated for his jacket? Thank you for delivering our specimen. You may wait outside.”

“How large is she going to get?”

“That is an excellent question. I’ll let you know when I decide to provide an answer.”

We heard the man scoff then grumble as he left the room.

“After you’ve settled the matter with the man’s jacket do go and fetch the syringes, would you? I want to do a blood draw on our little royal here.”

“Sure,” Reed said. He sounded young.

After Reed left, we heard Professor Grosser say to the kitten, “You’ve been shaping up rather nicely. Growing at a perfect rate.”

The kitten mewed a strange raspy mew as if it had started smoking a pack of cigarettes a day.

“Yes, my darling. Now, mommy’s going to draw some blood and run some tests.

The kitten mewed again.

“Cat sounds strange,” Lyle said. “I don’t remember her sounding that croaky.”

“Neither do I.”

“Here’s the syringes, professor,” Reed said returning to the room.

“Why thank you, Reed. Let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

“Do you think we’re still on track?”

“Oh, yes. The experiment is working out quite nicely. Did you know nice is a rather terrible word?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Its original definition was “to be ignorant”.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, indeed. Ah, there. Take this to the labs and I’ll look at the results in a couple of hours. In the meantime, let’s get our little sweetheart back to work.”

“Professor Grosser?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think this is the only way to achieve the test results?”

“Absolutely. Now, go fetch our delivery person and have him drive our little precious here back to the neighborhood.”

Reed left the room and brought back the driver. “She’s ready for you now,” Professor Grosser told him when he returned.

“Look,” the driver said. “This whole transporting this cat thing back and forth is getting more dangerous every time I go out. I need a partner to bring in on the job. I can’t be out there doing this alone anymore.”

There was a long silence where no one said anything.

“Another driver, you say?” Professor Grosser finally said.

“Yes.”

His answer was followed by more silence. Then suddenly, the driver shouted, “Hey! What are you doing? Stay away from me! Stay away from me!”

We heard a struggle and unsettling scraping sounds. Finally, Dr. Grosser said, “There. That should help you handle the cat.”

“What did you do to me?! What have you done to me?!”

“I’ve provided some assistance for your job. Now, off you go!”

“I’m going to HR about this!”

Dr. Grosser and Reed laughed wickedly. “Be serious, man,” Dr. Grosser said. “Now pick up the kitten and take her back to the neighborhood.”

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: HEADHUNTERS (HODEJEGERNE)(2011)-HBO MAX

This week’s film is a superb fast-paced edge of your seat comic thriller from Norway based on the novel Headhunters by Jo Nesbø and Don Bartlett. A 5’6” corporate headhunter named Roger (Aksel Hennie) suffers from serious self-esteem issues. Despite his successful career, Roger is in over his head. His house is far too expensive, his bank account is near drained, and he is married to a beautiful blonde statuesque art curator named Diana (Synnøve Macody Lund) who is out of his league, and he can’t stop buying jewelry for. With Roger’s funds, Diana has just opened her own art gallery. What Diana doesn’t know is to pay for it, Roger moonlights…as an art thief. And a proficient one at that. He works with a security expert named Ove Kjikerud (Eivind Sander) who assists him by turning off home security systems in Roger’s client’s houses allowing Roger to slip inside, steal the real painting, replace it with a passable fake, deliver the real painting to his bosses and take his stake. Unfortunately, even with his side job Roger is still struggling to pay the bills. Not to mention, Roger has been having an affair with a woman named Lottie (Julie R. Ølgaard) which has expenses of its own.

On the evening of her gallery’s opening Roger notices Diana talking with a tall handsome man named Clas Greve (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) a executive for a former GPS company called HOTE. Diana introduces Claus to her husband who thinks he would make an excellent new CEO for one of his clients who runs a competing GPS company. Clas has recently inherited his grandmother’s apartment. Apparently during the war his grandmother had an affair with a German officer who gifted her with a painting worth several million dollars. After stumbling upon this knowledge during a casual conversation with his wife the next morning, Roger decides stealing Clas’s painting could be the answer to all his financial woes and he and Ove go to work to pull off the ultimate art heist. But one should be careful about stealing from a mercenary with a certain set of skills…and a bloodthirsty dog. Don’t miss it.  

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.