Tag: fiction

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-Four

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good evening. My name is Gigi the parti poodle and I was running a bit late, but I am here and ready to introduce chapter twenty-four of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. As you may know, last week my novelist and I were more than happy to find out Foreigner is finally going to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was so excited about it I decided to pen ala Weird Al and Twisted Tunes, a different take on one of the group’s biggest songs. Here it goes,

Well, I’m, hot mailing

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby, do you do more than text?

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

You don’t have to read my font

To know what I really want

Honey, you ought to scroll

Now you type so fine

Let me read another line

I want to see

What attachment you’re sending me

Now it’s up to you

We can leave a bad product review

Just me and you

I’ll show you trolling like you never knew

That’s why I’m hot mailing

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby, do you do more than text?

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

If it feels alright

Maybe we could Zoom all night.

Shall I send you my link?  

But you’ve got to click on that key.

Come on, girl. Click the send key.

Tell me, are you hot mailing?

Inbox looks that way to me.

Are you old enough?

Will you be phishing when I call your bluff?

Is my texting right?

Will you send your dirty pics tonight?

Well I’m, hot mailing

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby, do you do more than text?

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

Now it’s up to you

We can write a bad product review

Oh, before we do

You’ll have to block and unfriend you know who

Well, I’m, hot mailingI

Click it and see

I’ve got a letter burning inside of me

Come on baby do you do more than text

I’m hot mailing, I’m hot mailing

Hot mailing, every night

Hot mailing, you’re emoji’s so tight

Hot mailing, you’re texting me wild

Hot mailing, I’m so sexting you, child

Hot mailing, I’m a little bit geek

Hot mailing, you’re a little bit freaked

Hot mailing, you’re making me pog

Hot mailing, for your sweet, sweet blog

Did you read what I wrote?

And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-four of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Rock on!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Four

Curtis huddled in his breakfast nook watching his round vintage-style wall clock. His clock had a silent sweep non-ticking quartz movement. But he heard the seconds marking off time in his head. He’d been sitting there for almost two hours hoping the police officer hadn’t followed him and was parked outside. His plan was to leave in a few minutes and blend in with traffic. However, it was Saturday and there wouldn’t be many cars on the road until around ten or eleven. He sipped the coffee he’d made with his espresso machine. Mr. Dupree was right about one thing: coffee should be made with whole beans and ground to order.

For some reason he started wondering what happened to all the coffee grounds once they were used and discarded. He figured some ended up being spared and turned into potting soil. But how many ended up in garbage dumps paved over with a golf course built on top? All those grounds trapped like prisoners with no dirt to fertilize. They would sit there for decades, centuries even. Curtis took another sip of his coffee. If he’d just not fallen asleep, he would have made it to the mailbox in the middle of the night. Maybe even beat the prowler. The policeman wouldn’t have walked up to his car and asked for his license and registration. He looked at the second hand on the clock. It glided past twelve. After it glided past twelve again, he would get up and leave.

When Curtis had pulled into his driveway at 6:40 AM, he’d noticed the red Ford Fiesta still parked in Earl’s driveway. Maybe his neighbor wasn’t as lonesome as he thought. The second-hand glided past twelve. He rose from the table and quietly stepped outside. As he turned to lock the door to his duplex, Earl and the woman with the long dark brown hair, short skirt and tennis shoes stepped outside onto Earl’s porch as well. Curtis told himself to act naturally as if he was heading off to do something ordinary for the weekend. He would not greet them. He would let them greet him first, act like he was focused on his normal weekend plans. Oddly, all Earl did was wave and after a moment Curtis realized Earl and the woman were not on friendly terms. There was tension between them. Curtis waved back, climbed into his pale green Honda Accord, and backed out into the street.

Curtis looked around the neighborhood as he headed for the main arterial. He scanned the streets trying to see if anyone was following him. He didn’t see any police prowlers around. He checked his rearview mirror. No one was behind him. He continued forwards.

He pulled up to the stop light to turn right onto the street that headed towards the mall. He turned on the radio and when he looked up in the rearview mirror, he saw a police car. Curtis froze, rattled. Breathe deep, he told himself. Just drive. Curtis gripped the steering wheel tightly; he flipped on the turn signal as his eyes peered to the left to see if anyone was coming. He turned cautiously and headed down the hill. He looked up in his rearview mirror. The prowler was on his tail. Curtis drove at the speed limit. Take it easy, he told himself. Stay nonchalant. Down the hill, past the eateries, and on to the mall. The prowler kept right on his tail. Stay calm and think, he told himself.

As he drove forwards, he saw the lights on the railroad track come on. He slowed to a stop and checked the rearview mirror. The prowler’s tinted windows made it difficult to see the driver. The sound of the train’s signal was deafening. He wondered if the officer was taking down his license plate as he waited for the train to pass.

As the last car went by, Curtis noticed another prowler sitting on the opposite side of the tracks. His heart began beating faster. He waited for the bar to lift. Then he crawled over the tracks and continued forwards. The prowler on the opposite side passed him and made a right turn towards the little lunch shack at the end of the street. The prowler behind him continued following his Honda. Curtis decided he was being paranoid. There were police cars everywhere. He was overthinking what happened last night.

Curtis drove over the bridge and out towards the mall. He glanced in his rearview mirror. He saw a second prowler two cars back. Did the other prowler turn around and start following him? He was tempted to speed up, but the first police car was right on his tail. He passed the mall and headed towards the turnoff to the lake. He stopped at the light. He looked around to see if there were any other police cars. Then he turned right and continued towards the lake. The police prowler turned with him. And after a moment the other prowler turned and stayed behind him as well. He needed an alternate destination.

He would head back and stop at the gas station. He drove a couple of blocks and then got into the right turn lane. He saw the two prowlers merge into the right turn lane behind him. He continued down the road to the gas station across from the mall and pulled in. As he did the two prowlers drove past the gas station and back the way he’d come. Were they on to him, Curtis thought?

Mr. Dupree set Sheriff Bob’s coffee and biscotti on the dining room table.

“Thanks, Dal,” Sheriff Bob said. It’s been a long night.”

“Did we receive a second ransom note giving us further instructions?”

“No, we did not.”

“Did your guy out there see anyone?”

“Just some twenty-something kid coming home from a date.”

“Is your guy sure that’s what he was doing?”

“Nope. That’s why he took down the kid’s license and registration. We’ll run it through our system to see if his name comes up with anything. I also had another one of my guys follow him to his house.”

“My daughter could be lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Or not. You need to keep your head here, Dal.”

“Fia has been gone an entire day. Almost two.”

Mrs. Dupree walked into the dining room. She was a visible wreck but kept her composure. “Do you have any leads?” she asked.

“None yet,” Sheriff Bob said. “There was a young man the officer saw parked out on the street early this morning. My guy got his license and registration. We’ll run it through our system. Probably won’t come up with anything but you never know.”

Mrs. Dupree nodded. “It isn’t like Fia to disappear for days like this.”

“Do you think it’s possible she ran into some friends from high school on spring break too? A lot of them are around town right now.”

“No, Fia was supposed to be taking the place of Dallas’s receptionist who went to Palm Springs this week. Fia was excited about the job and is a responsible young woman. She would not just take off.”

Sheriff Bob took another sip of his coffee. “Do you know if she was seeing anyone?”

“No…although she did always like that kid who was in marching band.”

“She did not,” Mr. Dupree snapped.

“Yes, Dallas, she did.”

“He was an odd little troll. Always wearing vests. You got to look out for boys who wear vests.”

Mrs. Dupree rolled her eyes. “But I still don’t think she ran off with friends or went to see a boy.”

“So, you believe the ransom note to be legitimate?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Sheriff Bob nodded. “I’m going to have my guy head home in another hour. I’ll send a new one to watch from the house. I think we need to consider doing a stakeout.”

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 PEZ OUTLAW (2022)-NETFLIX

It’s always a pleasure to come across a documentary that is fun and engaging to watch and this week’s pick fits the bill. This is one of those biographical stories that screams out to be made into a major motion picture. I can’t imagine any actor who wouldn’t want the lead role. And his wife Kathy, son Josh and the villain would be stellar parts too.

Steve Glew is a bit of an oddball. But he’s smart and always thinking of ways to make money. When he was younger, he used to buy kid’s cereals (the more sugar the better) and send away for free items advertised on the back of the box. He ordered so many of them the cereal companies had to start printing “one item per customer”. Steve is a collector himself…of the cereal boxes. But as for the toys, he sold those at toy conventions as a side-hustle. It was a way to make extra money since his 9-5 job as a machinist, an occupation which he was clearly over-qualified for, didn’t pay nearly as well.  

Then one day he found the holy grail of small toys: the Pez dispenser. And he had to get his hands on them. A lot of them. And he did…in Russia. He found that the factories there made Pez dispensers the United States Pez company rejected. But these rejected toys were worth thousands to American collectors. Thus began Steve’s odyssey as a smuggler of Pez dispensers and the egomaniac US Pez CEO, better known as the “Pezident”, who would do whatever it took to stop him.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-Three

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce the twenty-third chapter of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week this Hot Blooded poodle was pleased to find out that one of my favorite Dirty White Boy bands is being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. For years the band had been told with words Cold As Ice they would never be let in. But That Was Yesterday. Our Juke Box Hero probably thought someone was playing Head Games with them when they were told they were inductees. But they are not seeing Double Vision. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has decided it is Urgent they become a part of the heralded few. Congratulations, Foreigner. I’ll bet it Feels Like The First Time! And with that here is chapter twenty-three of Certified Sadistic Accountant.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fia decided Aunt Odette’s office was the least unusual room in the cabin. It appeared organized and just as Curtis promised there was a substantial collection of books. They were organized alphabetically by the author’s last name. The books stood on an old-fashioned hardwood bookshelf circa 1960 which ran the length of the longest wall. It had different length shelves and was made of maple and had a beautiful soft gloss finish. The tall hardbound books were along the bottom and stood vertical except for the last area on the lowest right.

Fia perused the vast layout of choices. “This is interesting,” she said picking up a paperback and showing it to Curtis.

“Is that what you want to read?” he said before checking his watch.

“No,” she said putting it back and perusing the shelves again.

Curtis watched as she languidly ran her fingers along the spines. He watched the light catch the glossy lacquer of her painted peach nails.

“This looks interesting too,” she said lifting a leatherbound copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover off the shelf.

“Mmm, hmm,” he said checking his watch again. He watched her bend down and peruse the bottom right-hand corner. She grabbed a large book with a spiral binding, picked it up, and studied it. Then she turned around and showed it to Curtis. Curtis raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you want to read?”  

“Yes.”

“Sex by Madonna and Steve Meisel?”

“Yes.”

“You realize when my aunt bought that book, they kept it behind the counter and didn’t display it. It was by request only.”

“I’ve never seen it before. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it in the flesh.”

“It’s rare now, I guess.”

“Did you used to sneak in here and read it when you visited your aunt?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten away with it.”

“I’ll bet you did.”

“Be careful with it, would you. It’s fragile to begin with and it’s rare.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t still hermetically sealed in the mylar.”

“Oh, she has a copy that is.”

“She has two copies?”

“Yes. She just doesn’t keep the sealed one lying around on the shelves.”

“Wow.”

“Enjoy the book. I’m sure it will be heady reading. Let’s go. I have work to do.”

They left the office and ascended the staircase. When they reached the guest room Fia turned to Curtis and said, “I hope you understand I chose this book for inspiration.”

“Yeah, it’s inspiring alright.”

She leaned against the doorframe and nodded. “And I hope you understand the inspiration is for my performance art piece.”

Curtis noticed the room temperature suddenly rise. He cleared his throat and said, “I hope you put on a great show.”

“You’ll have to let me know how you like it,” she said flirtatiously.

“I will…,” he averted his eyes. “I will do that.”

“Goodnight, Curtis,” she said and stepped backwards into the room smiling coquettishly at him as he closed the door and locked it.

Curtis stood for a minute watching the door. He turned slowly and slogged back down the stairs. He entered his aunt’s office and sat down at her desk. He took out a couple of magazines he’d stashed in her drawer along with his tweezers, scissors and glue and began cutting letters out of the pages. He meticulously started assembling the second ransom note carefully putting a small amount of glue on each letter, placing it precisely on the paper with the tweezers and pressing it down with the eraser side of the pencil. As he did, he thought about Fia. Why did she clean the attic? Why did she agree to dessert? Why did she flirt with him?

Maybe rehearsing her performance piece in the attic made her happy. She wouldn’t have gotten that opportunity working at her father’s accounting agency all spring break. He did her a favor by kidnapping her. It upset him that she suggested he would harm her. What would be the point of harming her? That wasn’t why he’d kidnapped her. He’d kidnapped her to show how brutal they had been. Taking a man’s dog was vicious. Killing a man’s dog was downright cruel.

Suddenly, he felt tears well up in his eyes. He pushed the chair away from the desk so they would not fall on the ransom note. What was the point of putting on rubber gloves and a shower cap just to get caught by falling tears?

He reached over and grabbed a Kleenex out of the square cardboard box. He’d had to buy the Kleenex because his Aunt Odette always insisted on using handkerchiefs. Curtis always found that odd. But she insisted handkerchiefs were more environmentally friendly and felt nicer on her, as she called it, ultra-sensitive skin. Curtis breathed in deep and slowly exhaled. He grabbed the desk and wheeled himself back. He decided he was going to need some coffee to complete the task.

He headed into the kitchen, checked the bur grinder to make sure it had enough coffee beans, and ground out enough for a double shot. He grabbed the press, packed down the grounds and stuck the portafilter in the machine. He poured milk into a steel pitcher. The only syrups his aunt ever had were vanilla and raspberry. He poured equal amounts of both into an oversized mug, made the coffee, and steamed the milk. He liked his milk foamy, somewhere between a cappuccino and a latte. He poured the coffee into the mug, stirred it then added the milk. He capped it off with ample foam and headed back to the office.

After fifteen minutes of drinking the coffee, Curtis found a second wind. He steadily added one letter at a time to the note. All he had to do now was wait for the glue to dry.

Curtis lifted his head. The office came into focus. He shot up in his chair and looked at the clock. It was five-thirty AM. He only had forty-five minutes until sunrise. He pushed back the chair, pulled off the shower cap and gloves and ran into the master bedroom. He threw on his black shirt, pants, and shoes. He rushed back to the office and put on his matching gloves. He grabbed the Ziplock freezer bag and carefully slid the ransom note into it. Then he rushed out of the office and whirled around to lock the door. He raced through the living room and out the front door. He opened the door of the garage, hopped in his Honda Accord, backed out and drove off. He glanced at the car’s clock: 5:40AM. Forty minutes to daylight. 

He drove too fast around the corners, anxious about the way the car struggled to hug the curves as he raced around the lake towards the main road into town. Stay cool, he told himself. Stay calm or you’ll run into another car or crash into the lake. He pulled up to the intersection that led past the mall and headed downtown on route to the neighborhood where the Dupree house stood.

He rolled down the window and let the cool air blow across his face. He breathed deeply and smelled the fresh spring night. He looked at his car clock: 5:50 AM. Thirty minutes to daylight. He saw the hill up ahead and punched the gas. He stopped at the stoplight, swiftly turned left, and powered up the second hill until he reached the crest before coasting towards the wealthiest part of town.

As Curtis pulled his pale green Honda Accord up to the curb, he glanced at the clock: 6:10 AM. Ten minutes to daylight. He grabbed the Ziplock freezer bag with the ransom note and got out of the car. He shut the door as softly as a butterfly closing its wings and prowled up the street towards the row of mailboxes.

He was almost there when he saw the police prowler parked in front of the Dupree house. He checked his watch: 6:15 AM. Five minutes to daylight. The prowler looked like a cougar waiting to pounce. Curtis turned and scurried back towards his Honda, heart pounding, fingers trembling. Dawn was breaking. He would have to hurry home to his duplex. He’d wait there for an hour or two before he headed back to the cabin.

He got into the car, stuck the ransom note under the passenger’s seat, pulled off his black knit cap and was about to start the engine when he was startled by a tapping on the driver’s side window. He whipped his head around and saw a policeman staring at him with an expressionless face. Curtis rolled down the window.

“Yes, officer?” he said with a squeak in his voice.

“What are you doing parked here?” the officer asked.

“I…,” Curtis felt a drop of sweat roll down between his shoulder blades. “I was coming home from a date.”

“A date?”

“I had dinner with a girl…a young woman…of legal age.”

“Where did you go for dinner?”

“My…her house. We had dinner at her house.”

“What did you have?”

“Clam pasta.”

“She made you clam pasta?”

“I made it, actually.”

“Where’s her place?”

“Over the bridge. Past the mall.”

“Why are you parked here?”

“I was on my way home.

“Where do you live?”

“I live in a duplex.”

“There aren’t any duplexes in this neighborhood.”

“This neighborhood is on my way home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Over by the middle school.”

“Which middle school?”

“The old one that was built in the 70’s.”

The emotionless policeman stared him down.

“Is there something wrong, officer.”

“License and registration.”

“But I was just parked. I wasn’t speeding…”

“License and registration.”

Curtis reached into his hip pocket and fumbled for his wallet. He took out his license and handed it to the officer. Then he reached into the panel of the door for the registration and handed it to the officer as well.

The officer looked over the documents, wrote something down, and handed the documents back to Curtis. Curtis put the registration back in the door and his license back into his wallet. As he was about to put his wallet back in his hip pocket, he glanced over and noticed the corner of the ransom note sticking out from under the passenger seat. He turned his eyes forwards.

“You can go,” the policeman said.

“I can go?”

“You can go.”

“Thank you, officer,” Curtis said.

The officer stepped away from the window, his heels clicking along the asphalt as he headed back to the prowler. Curtis turned on the engine and slowly drove away.

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 WARRIORS (1979)-AMAZON PRIME

Following last week’s pick Seven Samurai, I thought it would be apropos to choose another film about a different group of warriors. From what I understand it is becoming more and more difficult to make and distribute independent films. Which sucks. And so, I thought I would feature this wonderful little gem packed with fantastic talented young actors, many who would go on to be successful character actors as well. Look for Oscar winner, Mercedes Ruhl in one of her very first motion picture appearances.  

The book the film was based on is the 1965 novel of the same name and written by Sol Yurick. After Yurick graduated with a degree in Literature from New York University (NYU), he got a job as a social investigator for New York City’s welfare department. He worked with children of welfare families, many of whom were members of gangs, hundreds of gangs in New York City. He later finished his masters of English at Brooklyn College and became a full-time writer. He penned The Warriors based on his experience with the gang members he worked with and the Greek Anabasis by Xenophon, which is a work about the Ten Thousand, an army of Greek mercenaries hired by Cyrus the Younger to help him seize the throne of Persia from his brother, Artaxerxes II, in 401 BCE.

The film takes place over the course of one night when Cyrus (Roger Hill), the leader of the Gramercy Riffs, the largest and most powerful New York City gang, calls a meeting and a truce between all the gangs. While giving a speech suggesting all of them merge and join as one force against the police, he is shot and killed by psychopathic Luther (David Patrick Kelly), leader of the Rogues. Chaos ensues and Luther immediately realizes Fox (Thomas G. Waites) has witnessed the crime. He immediately pins the act on the Warriors, falsely accusing them. This leads the vengeful Riffs to fatally attack Cleon (Dorsey Wright) the Warriors wise and dynamic leader.

Before his death, Cleon had appointed Swan (Michael Beck) as “War Chief” second-in-command. It is then up to Swan to lead Fox, graffiti artist Rembrandt (Marcelino Sánchez), and soldiers Snow (Brian Tyler), Cowboy (Tom McKitterick), Cochise (David Harris), Vermin (Terry Michos), and quick-tempered enforcer Ajax (James Remar) on a dangerous odyssey back to their home turf on Coney Island.

Rounding out the cast is Deborah Van Valkenburgh as the bright and spirited Mercy, who hangs around a lower-tier gang called The Orphans.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-Two

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here once again to introduce chapter twenty-two of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This is my sixth blog story and when I began penning it, I decided to make this one a little longer than the other five. I do not wish for it to drone on forever because stories must at some point come to an end. My novelist and I have discussed story length many times over tea, and we believe each story is its own animal. No pun intended. Some stories are better shorter, some medium, some large and some extra-large. And some extra small. And so, I am letting this one run a bit longer than the others. Bernard D. Bunny and Sergio Squirrel each have a different opinion, however. Bunny believes in the short story and Sergio believes the long haul is more apropos. Such is the way of the wild untamed animals. I however, being a domesticated poodle have a more flexible mind when it comes to such matters. I can write or read stories of varying lengths. I suppose it is impressive both Bernard and Sergio read stories at all. Bernard is slowly working his way through the Sherlock Holmes stories. Sergio, on the other hand, is working on Lonesome Dove. To each his or her own. And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-two of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Enjoy!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fia set her pasta down across the table from Curtis and took a seat., “This is a lot more comfortable than that little table and chairs set in the attic,” she said.

“My aunt had that as her table and chairs before she bought this one,” Curtis said. He looked down at his food not knowing how to continue a conversation with her.

“What are your parents like?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation.”

Curtis shrugged. “Typical upper middleclass family. My dad is an accountant, and my mother is a high school teacher.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have an older sister.”

“What’s her name?”

“Pear.”

“Pear? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“They named you Curtis, but they named her Pear?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Pear sounds exotic, and Curtis is more…pedestrian.”

“I happen to like the name Curtis.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your name. Pear just sounds more hip.”

“Pear’s not all that exotic. She’s studying to be a veterinarian specializing in reptiles.”

“See, that’s exotic.”

“I don’t understand anyone who would want a reptile for a pet. It’s a good way to get E. coli. Tell me about your mother,” Curtis said trying to take the focus off him. “I already work for your father.”

“Hasn’t she ever come down to the office?”

“No.”

“Really? I suppose that makes sense. She’s not a very happy woman. I think she finds accounting dull.”

“Then why did she marry your father?”

Fia took a bite of her pasta and considered Curtis’s question. “My mother was a forest ranger.”

“A forest ranger?” Curtis said surprised.

“She got her college degree in Forestry. My mom loves being alone. Being a forest ranger allowed her to be alone most of the time. She once told me right after she graduated from college and got her first forest ranging job was the happiest time of her life. She loved being out in nature and roaming around the forest.”

“Did she ever run into any dangerous animals?”

“Oh, sure. She said she’d see wolf packs and black bears.”

“How did she end up meeting Mr. Dupree if she was out there in the forest all the time?”

“Her dad was an accountant, and he knew my dad’s dad because he was an accountant too. Grandpa supported her being a forest ranger, but I don’t think he liked the low pay she received. Being a forest ranger is an underpaid occupation. So, one night he asked my mom to come over for dinner. But he didn’t tell her it was a dinner party. So, she showed up wearing her uniform because she came straight from work. But her mom and dad and my dad and his mom and dad were all dressed in business casual clothes. My mom felt like the whole thing was an ambush. Mom said when they all sat down to dinner, my parents had seated my father right next to her.

“Mom said it wasn’t the last time she got ambushed either. Two weeks later they had my dad and his parents over for dinner again. She told me she would have had enough time to change out of her uniform, but she didn’t. At the end of dinner, she and my dad were out on the porch talking and he asked her out on a date. I think she told him to go to hell, but it did not deter him.

“Mom says she was out doing her job when she heard something coming from the bushes. At first, she thought it might be a moose. But then my dad stepped out of the foliage. She was so angry she pulled out her gun and shot at him. He told her that was incredibly rude, and he’d just come to visit her at work. She told him it was her job to enforce the rules and laws of the forest and he could kiss her ass.

“Mom says after that she started to get depressed. She is a woman who needs her alone time. That was one of the main reasons she became a forest ranger. The problem is there are too many people in the world who need people and that makes for a nasty ugly place for those who don’t.”

“Interesting mother you have,” Curtis said. “She doesn’t sound like the type of woman who would marry Mr. Dupree.”

“They’ve been married for a quarter of a century.”

“Wow.”

Fia took a bite of her pasta and chewed thoughtfully. “You made a good dinner, Curtis,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“What are your after-dinner plans?”

“I need to finish a second ransom note.”

“You should be careful about sending my dad too many ransom notes. You might get caught.”

“I won’t get caught.”

Fia scoffed. “Famous last words.”

“Would you care for some dessert?”

“That cheesecake thing?”

“Yes, that cheesecake thing. The cake is made for two which means it should be served on one plate with two forks.”

Fia smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Curtis trotted into the kitchen, took the pink cardboard box with the cheesecake out of the refrigerator, and opened the drawer with the good silverware. He removed two small ornate sterling silver dessert forks, folded two napkins, placed a fork in each napkin, picked up the cheesecake and napkin wrapped forks and brought them to the table.

“You fold napkins like a professional,” Fia said.

“Aunt Odette insisted I have good manners. She has no tolerance for young people who don’t know how to sit down and have a proper dinner.”

“I don’t think most guys know how to tie their own shoes much less fold a nap. Should we try this cheesecake?”

“Please.” Fia sliced off a piece of the cheesecake with her fork and tasted it. “That’s really good,” she said. “Creamy like a French cheesecake.”

Curtis took a bite. “You are right, it is good,” he said. “I never tried the bakery’s cakes before. I’ve only had their cookies and the croissants your father orders from them every morning.”

“I’ve got to get my dad to stop doing that. It isn’t healthy to eat a croissant every day.”

“You have to admit the croissants are awesome, though.”

“But not healthy. By the way I thought about what you said.”

“About what?”

“About creating a new performance art piece.”

“That’s why everything was arranged better in the attic today.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s been a mess for years. My aunt talks about organizing it but never does.”

Fia took another bite of the cheesecake. “Am I allowed to sleep in the guest room again tonight?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll take you up there after we finish dessert.”

“It’s a little boring up there trying to fall asleep. Is there a book or a magazine I could borrow?”

“My aunt has a bookshelf in her office. You can pick out something to read before we head up.”

“Thank you. That’s sweet of you.”

Fia studied Curtis as he took another bite of the cheesecake. Letting her into his aunt’s office was a good sign. He appeared to trust her more. If she was going to get out of here, she needed him to trust her.

Curtis gently pushed the gold foil cardboard towards her. “You can have the rest of the cheesecake,” he said.

“Thank you. You have such good manners, Curtis.”

Curtis beamed. “My aunt wouldn’t have it any other way. After you finish that we’ll go find you a book.”

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: SEVEN SAMURAI (1954)–HBO MAX

Without question one of the finest films ever made. And that’s an understatement. Here is a timeless story about courage, friendship and humanity directed and co-written by master filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. The story is straightforward: in the year 1586, a man from a village of farmers overhears a conversation between members of a gang of bandits. The bandits want to charge into the man’s village and steal the villagers’ food and commit other horrors. But the leader says they will wait until the crop is harvested so they can take a larger bounty. The villagers discuss the dilemma and finally go to Gisaku (Kokuten Kôdô) the village elder for advice. He suggests a small group of the men travel to a nearby town and hire samurai to protect them. This is easier said than done as farmers at the time were thought to be worthless and no samurai would be interested in the job.

But they do find one older highly experienced rōnin samurai named Kanbei (Takashi Shimura) who sympathizes with their plight. Kanbei in turn manages to convince six other samurai, Gorōbei Katayama (Yoshio Inaba), Shichirōji (Daisuke Katō), Kyūzō (Seiji Miyaguchi), Heihachi Hayashida (Minoru Chiaki), Katsushirō Okamoto (Isao Kimura), and Kikuchiyo (Toshiro Mifune) to assist him in protecting the village.  

The film’s story and even the film’s elements have been copied numerous times, most notably by the fantastic western The Magnificent Seven. In my opinion, one of the factors that makes the film so great is the story takes time to allow the audience to get to know the characters. We watch their relationships evolve naturally, with humor, poignancy, and tension without any rush. This adds great impact to the phenomenal landmark finale. If you have never had the joy of watching Kurosawa’s masterpiece, you will not regret doing so. It is a hands down absolute must see.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-One

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twenty-one of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week my novelist took me on a trip to visit one of her relatives. They live in a pleasant little apartment which I got to know well. My novelist and her relative had to go out a couple of times and I was left to explore. It is always a delightful and uneasy experience to be left alone in a new place. But I found it to be pleasant and comfortable. I’d had a good breakfast before we left that day and so I was not hungry. My novelist’s relative made sure I had a cool bowl of water to drink should I get thirsty. Across the street there is a convenience store which is interesting to view from the apartment window. From what I understand someone once ran their car into said store, and it was closed for a while. I sat on the back of a chair to see if anything intriguing was happening. Alas, all I witnessed were customers going in and getting coffee, icy drinks and occasionally a pastry. But I still enjoyed the action. I do believe I would have made a fabulous stakeout detective. I could bark notes into a recorder as I describe what I see. I could put visual clues together and maybe even sneak into the convenience store to get a better look, hide in the shelves and such. Wouldn’t that be exciting? And with that thought, here is chapter twenty-one of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Enjoy!  

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-One

Fia was not impressed with Curtis’s idea of having freedom to move about the place. At six AM today he escorted her out of the guestroom and back to the attic where he locked the door behind her. After she heard him leave the cabin and drive off, she flipped on the light and began looking around the place. She thought about what Curtis had said about creating a performance art piece. Just by looking around it was obvious there were a lot of potential props as well as a few sculptures and paintings.

She had noticed a wooden wardrobe against the far wall earlier. She wandered over to it, opened the door and looked around inside. All the clothes were made of thick sturdy fabric. Out of style obviously but well-made. She tried on a couple of dresses and found herself drawn to a chartreuse colored one made of silk. She assumed the dress was probably worn by Curtis’s aunt to art galleries or possibly a cocktail party. She also found a bright white fur stole. Fox, she assumed. She wrapped the stole around her shoulders. It had a silk lining that moved like cool water against her skin. Fia continued hunting around the wardrove and found an old hat box. Inside was a bright white fox fur hat which she imagined matched the stole. Yes, she thought. This would work well. She started rifling through some nearby boxes that looked like they contained shoes hoping for a pair of pumps. But all she found were a pair of well-worn sandals and a pile of receipts.

She closed the wardrobe and perused the artwork around the room. She was drawn to a bright red sculpture that looked like a vase unraveling or coming together. She also found a set of three small, framed panels that worked together to form an abstract piece. There was also a sculpture of a turtle with a blue body and legs and a burnt orange shell. The head appeared to be facing the wrong way and it was large enough to double as a footstool.

Near the turtle was something covered with a white tarp. Fia grabbed the tarp with both hands and dragged it off the object to reveal a wild looking chair with wires bending in all directions. The seat and back were glossy and had mother of pearl inlay in floral designs. The wires, as she looked closer, were gradient in color going from cherry red to the major color of the piece: jet black. She knew instantly this shocking vision must be worth a fortune.

The chair could be an interesting focus for her piece. Almost a statement on the madness she had experienced over the past twenty-four hours. The backwards facing turtle could double as a footstool.

Now for the props. It is difficult to express a performance art piece without props. Not impossible, but difficult. And then there was the history behind the props. How did they come into one’s possession? What is the history behind them. Why did someone make the object and why was someone compelled to own it? Or was it a gift? What are the props the audience sees and what does the character hide in her pocket, her backpack, her purse. How do the props affect her?

Perhaps she should first look for a pen and paper to write down these thoughts since Curtis had stolen her phone and likely hidden it. Would his eclectic aunt have such pedestrian things in her attic? Fia headed over to the old desk that stood on the adjacent wall to the wardrobe. She started opening the drawers and rummaging around. They appeared to be empty except for the bottom one which had a ledger in it with a pen attached to the side by a stretch-band loop. She slid the pen out of the loop and opened the ledger.

Inside she found a list of purchases. Some were quite high. But as she flipped through and studied the pages closer, she noticed that the sales of the art pieces far outweighed the price Curtis’s aunt had paid for them. And from the number of sales, Fia started to realize Aunt Odette was more than just a casual collector. It was clear that cuts of the sales had gone to auction houses. But the gains still outweighed the original costs.

Suddenly, she heard the doorbell ring. The sound startled her so much she nearly lost her balance. It took Fia a moment before she screamed, “Help! Help me!” She grabbed any object within her reach and began banging the wall. The doorbell rang again, and she tried to make a louder noise. “Help! I’m trapped in the attic!” The doorbell rang a third time. “I’m here! Help! Help! Help!”

She waited. No sound. “No, no, no! Come back! Come back!”

When she realized the person had left, she slumped to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them tightly. She could have gotten out if only they had heard her. She would need to somehow persuade Curtis to trust her, believe that she had come around to his way of thinking. If she could do that perhaps he would give her free reign of the house and the person who came by today may come by again and help her escape.

Curtis arrived at the cabin around seven-thirty that evening, later than he would have liked. He’d have to hurry if he was going to get Fia something to eat and be able to put together the second ransom note and deliver it to Mr. Dupree tonight. He had stopped by the duplex after work to make it seem like he was staying there. His neighbor Earl was hanging out on his front porch when Curtis pulled into the driveway.

“Hey, buddy,” Earl said when Curtis disembarked the Honda. “How’s it been going since Haven…” He trailed off as if the subject was too sensitive to bring up.

“I miss her every day,” Curtis replied, a genuine lump in his throat.

“I notice you’ve been keeping to yourself these past couple of days.”

“I have.”

“Well…if you ever want to come over and hang out, watch the ball game, you’re welcome to stop by.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Curtis headed inside his unit. He should have known on Friday night Earl would be sitting on his porch. Now he’d either be forced to come up with an excuse to leave or wait for Earl to leave, which seemed unlikely.

And then the unthinkable happened. About a half an hour later a woman drove up into Earl’s driveway in a red Ford Fiesta. Curtis heard the engine and peered out the window. The woman had long dark brown hair and was wearing a short skirt and tennis shoes. She marched up to Earl, cocked her head to one side, her wide-necked sweatshirt sliding off her bare shoulder as if she was daring him to disagree with her. Earl shrugged, got up out of his chair, followed her to the Fiesta and they got in and left. Curtis grabbed his keys, hurried out to his car, and took off.

When Curtis got inside the cabin, he scurried into the kitchen. He opened the bottom drawer by the sink where Aunt Odette kept her cookbooks and took out a small orange one. They were the only books she didn’t have neatly filed on her bookshelves in her office. He reached into the cupboard and retrieved three cans of clams, a package of thin spaghetti, and a jar of capers.

He opened the refrigerator and took out a pound of Roma tomatoes and fresh parsley. He flipped to a recipe before dicing the tomatoes. Then he snatched the brown paper bag of white mushrooms he had sitting on the counter and began slicing them. He opened the three cans of clams before grabbing a pot, filling it with water, adding salt and setting it on the stove to boil. Then he put a twelve-inch frying pan on the stove and proceeded to make the sauce.

After Curtis finished boiling the pasta al-dente he put it into two bowls. He chopped the parsley, took the pan and a large wooden spoon, and proceeded to pour the sauce over the pasta. Then he finished it with the parsley. He took his bowl to the table before grabbing a cloth napkin and a fork and set those beside it. He grabbed the other bowl, headed up the stairs, and knocked on the attic door.

“I’ve brought you dinner,” he said. “I’m sorry I was late. I know you must be starving.”

Fia felt all the hairs on her neck stand up, but she remained calm. “Okay,” she said.

Curtis unlocked the door, quickly flipped on the light, and looked around. He noticed the place appeared to be more…organized. Fia must have gotten bored and rearranged things. “Clam pasta tonight,” he said. “A perfect dish for the lactose intolerant.”

Fia had an overwhelming desire to tell him she was also allergic to seafood but resisted the temptation. “Sounds good.”

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“I just realized I forgot to pick up a baguette at the bakery.”

“It’s not a problem.”

Curtis moved over to the table and chairs and set the bowl of pasta down and put a fork wrapped in a cloth napkin beside it.

“What are you having?”

“Same thing.”

She nodded. A silence fell between them.

“I should tell you,” Curtis finally said, “your father got the first ransom note this morning.”

“How many are you planning on sending him?”

“He’s concerned about you. He called the police immediately, but they can’t consider you a missing person until you’ve been missing twenty-four hours.”

“No wonder people go missing. The law makes it so no one can look for you.”

“But they’re looking for you now.”

“Are they going to find me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I have no intention of…”

A silence fell between them again.

“Enjoy your pasta,” Curtis finally said and started heading towards the door.

“What if we ate together tonight?”

Curtis stopped and turned back towards her.

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: ANATOMY OF A FALL (2023)-HULU

This week’s pick won the Palme d’Or for Best Film and a BAFTA, a Golden Globe, and an Oscar this year for Best Original Screenplay for writers Justine Triet (who also directs) and Arthur Harari and puts an interesting twist on the classic courtroom drama. One day successful writer Sandra Voyter (Sandra Hüller) is being interviewed by young Zoé Solidor (Camille Rutherford) about her career. As the interview progresses, Sandra appears to be oddly elated. But soon we can hear loud music in the background which clearly irritates Sandra. After hearing the song is on loop, Sandra asks the interview stop.

As Zoé heads home, Sandra’s young son Daniel, who was injured and left half-blind in an accident, takes his seeing-eye dog Snoop for a walk in the snow. When he returns, he is shocked to find his father Samuel Maleski (Samuel Theis) dead in the snow, apparently from a fall from the top floor of the chalet they live in where he has been doing construction. Daniel then runs inside and alerts his mother who apparently has been sleeping. An autopsy is done on Samuel which reveals that he was killed by something that struck his head most likely before he fell. Murder is presumed and Sandra, the only other person who was home at the time, becomes a suspect. She then contacts her friend and lawyer Maître Vincent Renzi (Swann Arlaud) to defend her.

Rounding out the cast are Jehnny Beth as Marge Berger, Daniel’s court appointed guardian and Antoine Reinartz as the opposing lawyer Avocat general.

Certified Sadidstic Accountant Chapter Twenty

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twenty of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. One can never underestimate the importance of getting one’s blanket just so. I spend a fair amount of time each day adjusting my beloved blanket. My novelist will fold it into a nice flat rectangle and place it on the bed. This is all good and well except I simply do not like it that way. You see, I like to fluff it up a bit, rumple it even, arrange it so that I am content. And then what does my novelist do? She shakes it out and folds it back into a rectangle. I must get her to understand that once my blanket is exactly the way I have arranged it, that is the way it should remain. It is my blanket after all. It is necessary for me to scrunch it up the way I imagine it to be in my head so I can think. How else am I to get any work done if she keeps flattening it out into a boring easy to describe shape? How is that creative? She writes novels, she should have insight into this. An artist needs their quirks. I must have a word with her about the matter. Until then here is chapter twenty of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Enjoy!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty

Mr. Dupree slogged into the office the next day haggard and beside himself. His eyes were glassy, his shirt untucked, and his tie not properly knotted. Curtis took one look at his boss and knew his plan was in full swing. He hurried over to him and said, “Mr. Dupree, you look terrible. Is everything okay?”

“Fia,” Dallas moaned. “Fia is being held for ransom.”

“Really?”

Mr. Dupree flung his briefcase up on one of the nearby desks and flipped open the latches. He produced the ransom note Curtis had left inside his mailbox last night. Curtis tingled with adrenaline when he saw it.

“Shouldn’t you have given it to the police?”

Mr. Dupree ruffled. “Of course, I called the police, Cook. I called the sheriff directly. But she must be missing for twenty-four hours before they will do anything.”

“Did you tell them about the ransom note?”

“No, Cook I did not. I called the sheriff before I ever received the ransom note. Before I even knew there was a ransom note. I am waiting until lunch time to call them again. Then it will be twenty-four hours since she’s been gone.”

“I think the ransom note would be enough for them to spring into action. It specifically shows she’s a hostage.”

“In the hands of criminals.”

Curtis wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being referred to as a criminal. “Although, I suppose its possible they might consider you wrote the ransom note yourself.”

“What possible reason would I have for writing a ransom note for my recently abducted daughter, Cook?”

“I am sorry you are in this terrible situation, Mr. Dupree.”

“My poor Fia. My poor dear Fia.”

Just then Makenna, Lance, Irving, and Grady entered the office all carrying pastel coffee cups from The Steamed Bean. They collectively looked at Mr. Dupree and knew something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” Lance asked, being the bravest of the four.

“Fia,” Mr. Dupree said sullenly. “She’s been kidnapped.”

“What?” Makenna said shocked.

“I received a ransom note in my mailbox this morning saying Fia had been kidnapped with instructions to follow.”

“How much money do they want?” Lance asked.

“I don’t even know if it’s money they want. All I know is there will be instructions to follow.”

“The whole thing seems implausible,” Grady said.

“Well, it is plausible, Grady. It’s very plausible.”

“How is Mrs. Dupree doing?” Makenna asked.

“Pretty much the same way any sane mother would after finding out her daughter had been kidnapped: out of her mind!”

“Do you have any idea when you might be getting more information from the kidnappers?”

“No. I’m hoping by tonight. Maybe in the morning. Until then I must wait until noon to report her missing.”

Mr. Dupree trudged upstairs to his office.

“What are we going to do for a receptionist?” Lance asked.

“Don’t be so insensitive,” Makenna said.

“It’s going to get busy. Someone needs to be at the desk.”

“I’ll ask Mr. Dupree,” Curtis said.

“Why you?” Irving said. “I don’t trust you.”

“Screw it,” Lance said. “Go ask him, Cook the Books.”

Curtis turned and headed up the stairs to Mr. Dupree’s office and knocked on the door.”

“What is it, Cook?” Mr. Dupree called.

“I hate to be insensitive,” Curtis said, “but who do you want handling the receptionist desk?”

Mr. Dupree sighed. “Why did this have to happen during tax season? People always kick you when you’re down.”

“I’ll take over the receptionist desk, Mr. Dupree.”

“No, Cook, you won’t. You’re handling some of my biggest clients. You don’t have time.”

“Yes, Mr. Dupree,” Curtis said, appreciative of the complement.

“You’re a good man, Cook.”

That complement, however, filled Curtis with remorse. But he had to keep it together. All he had to do was make it through the weekend.

“I’ll do it.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll handle the desk.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea…I mean considering what you’re going through?”

“It’s too late to call in a substitute. Fia was our substitute.”

“Okay, Mr. Dupree.”

Curtis trotted back downstairs and told his fellow accountants, “Mr. Dupree will be working the receptionist desk.”

“You mean he’s going to come down here and spy on us?” Lance said irritated. “Tax season is stressful enough. I don’t need the boss looking over my shoulder. I mean does the guy even know how to answer the phones?”

“We need a receptionist,” Makenna said, “so, stop complaining.”

“Seriously not liking this at all.”

As soon as business hours began, Mr. Dupree came down the stairs, straightened his navy-blue Savile Row silk tie and marched over to the receptionist’s desk, stepped up on the platform and took his place just as the first phone call rang.

“Dupree Tax Agency,” he said into the handset. “How may I direct your call…oh, it’s you, Bob. So, now you call me after dismissing the disappearance of my daughter.”

All the accountants leaned in to eavesdrop.  

“You said I had to wait until noon…then why are you calling me? Oh, you’re worried. How kind of you. How considerate. If you were so worried you should have helped find my daughter last night! And she’s been kidnapped. I found a ransom note in my mailbox this morning…. yeah, that’s right, a ransom note…. yeah, you’d better get right on it, Sherlock!” Mr. Dupree slammed down the handset. After a beat, he looked out at all his employees staring at him. “What are you all looking at? Get back to work!”

“I guess he does know how to answer the phones,” Lance whispered to Curtis.

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: DREAM SCENARIO (2023)–HBO MAX

It’s always a delight to come across a smaller film that is well worth watching and be able to recommend it for our Stream of the Week. This week’s pick is one of those films. Introverted, unassuming, unpublished professor Dr. Paul Mathews (Nicholas Cage in top form) only wants a couple of things out of life: his family, his job and publishing his book which he has yet to write. Then one day his younger daughter Sophie (Lily Bird) tells her dad she had a dream about him the night before where all around her in their back yard things were falling from the sky, the ground was shaking, and she suddenly was being lifted into the air. And all the time her father was just calmly raking leaves.

Paul later meets up with his old girlfriend from college with a vague hope that she still thinks about him or has some residual feelings. But in truth she’s hardly thought about him over the years and all she can say about Paul is she saw him in a recent dream, and he was doing nothing. Paul finds out his students are also having dreams about him where something stressful is occurring and Paul just seems to walk through them unphased. In fact, the only people who don’t seem to be dreaming about Paul are the Dean of Paul’s college Brett (Tim Meadows) and his wife Janet (Julianne Nicholson). Paul’s life starts to become crazier when he contacts a public relations firm called Thoughts? where he meets the head of marketing Trent (Michael Cere) and his assistant Molly (Dylan Nicole Gelula) who want to have Paul pimp Sprite in people’s unconscious. Molly confesses to Paul she has been having erotic dreams about him, a fact that will spin Paul’s world into greater chaos.

Dream Scenario is an excellent meditation on the modern take of mob mentality and the inability for human beings in the modern day to tell the difference between fantasy and reality. The film’s editing was done by Kristoffer Borgli who also wrote the original screenplay and directed the film, to move like a dream throughout, giving the audience the sensation of not necessarily knowing what is real and what is not. I am disappointed the film did not receive Oscar nominations for Nicholas Cage’s superb performance, and Borgli’s editing and writing.  

If you’d like to see Nicholas Cage in another outstanding smaller film, check out Pig (2021) which we strongly recommend and featured as one of our Stream of the Week picks last year. It is currently streaming on Hulu.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Nineteen

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I, Gigi the parti poodle, here to present chapter nineteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. As many of you know my beloved companion Tucker the Maltese passed away recently. On Easter weekend he would always join me here on the blog to celebrate the holiday. And so, this year I was forced to find a substitute. I would like to introduce you to a brown bunny who hops around my neighborhood, Peter Cottontail.

My name isn’t Peter Cottontail. I’m Bernard D. Bunny.

And he is homeless…

I am not homeless I live in a burrow.

And needs financial support…

I do not need financial support. I am a wild bunny. I’m self-sufficient.

And so, he has agreed to join me today for a fee…

I did not take any money for this.

…to perform an Easter song.

That is not what we agreed on.

It most certainly is. You are going to sing the Easter song.

Alright, look. I’ll do the song, but I want to make it clear just because I’m a bunny doesn’t mean I’m the Easter Bunny.

No one said you were the Easter Bunny.

You called me Peter Cottontail. A lot of people associate Peter Cottontail who hops down the bunny trail with the Easter Bunny.

I certainly did not say you were the Easter Bunny.

Okay, so you understand I am Bernard D. Bunny.

Mr. Bunny is now going to perform an Easter Song.

Well, I guess I’m doing this. You say Easter I say bunny.

You need to put a little more energy into it. And it’s “I say Easter, you say bunny.”

Yeah. Okay. I say Easter, you say bunny. Easter.

Bunny.

What?

Bunny.

Oh, right…Easter.

Bunny.

Easter.

Bunny.

I say Easter, you say bunny. Easter.

Bunny.

Easter.

Bunny.

Alright! Alright.!Are you ready for some holiday celebration, poodle?

Yes, I…

I say Easter, you say bunny! Easter!

Bunny.

Easter!

Bunny.

This poodle is crazy! Alright, crazy poodle! Alright! We’re going to rock this one home! I say Easter, you say bunny!

Easter!

Bunny!

Easter!

Bunny!

I SAID, I SAY EASTER, POODLE! YOU SAY BUNNY! EASTER! EASTER! EASTER! EASTER!

BUNNY! BUNNY! BUNNY! BUNNY!

STAGE DIVE!

Mr. Bunny? Mr. Bunny? Are you alright?

Happy Easter, Baby! Yeah!

And with that thought here is Chapter Nineteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Happy Easter!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Nineteen

“What am I supposed to sleep on in that filthy room?” Fia asked as they headed back upstairs to the attic.

Curtis realized he hadn’t considered her sleeping arrangements. His aunt didn’t have a bed up there. A table and chairs, yes. A bed, no. And he didn’t want to make Fia sleep on the floor. She was, for all practical purposes, a houseguest. There were two bedrooms on the second floor: the master bedroom and the guestroom. The guestroom could be locked from the outside. The master bedroom could not. The problem was the window. His aunt had new windows installed about six years ago when he was still in college. But it wouldn’t take much for Fia to get out of it. There wasn’t anything she could climb out on like a tree or a trellis. But she could take the risk of jumping out the window which meant she would either break a bone or get lucky, come out unscathed and take off. And that just wouldn’t do. But if he were to sleep in the bedroom with her, he might be able to come up with a way to make it difficult for her to run.

“Let me think about it,” he told her.

“So, you haven’t thought this out,” she said.

“Of course, I’ve thought this out. But like all plans there are always little details that come up the planner doesn’t expect. So, one must be able to call an audible.”

“You had better call an audible right now because there is no way I’m sleeping on that filthy attic floor.”

“I have no intention of you sleeping on the attic floor. In fact, what I’d really like is for you to make yourself at home. Feel free to roam about the house. But you tried to escape and that makes things difficult. And I don’t want things to be difficult.”

“You kidnapped me. I’m obliged to escape.”

“This doesn’t have to be a hostile situation. It could be amicable.”

“Amicable?”

“Yes. You are my houseguest…”

“Houseguest?”

“…and you could consider it a unique way to spend your spring break.”

“You’re nuts. You’re cracked.”

“Don’t say that. I’ve been put in a precarious situation.”

“Precarious situation? You need a psychiatric evaluation.”

“Stop saying that.”

“No sane person would kidnap someone and not have a plan.”

“I’ve changed my mind. You will sleep on the attic floor.”

“Better than being your “houseguest”,” she said making quotation marks with her fingers.

Curtis grabbed her under the arm and marched her back to the attic. He opened the door, shoved her inside and said, “I hope you enjoy your filthy floor. And my aunt soundproofed this house so any yelling you are planning to do is a moot point.”

“You can’t leave me bound in this zip tie all night.”

“Yeah? Watch me.”

Curtis slammed the door shut, locked it, and marched down the stairs. He headed into the kitchen, put on his aunt’s apron, and went about fixing himself a late dinner. He took out a water glass, a fork and a steak knife and set himself a place at the dining room table. He opened the refrigerator, took out the top sirloin steak he’d purchased for himself, and set it next to the mushrooms and russet potato he had set on the counter. He walked over and checked on the potato he’d stuck in the oven suddenly realizing his face was burning and his hands trembling. Why did she have to say those things to him? He wasn’t crazy. He had a plan and a solid understanding of where it was going. Crazy people didn’t have plans or at least not very good ones.

Curtis went about seasoning his steak and preparing his mushrooms. He found his aunt had left a bottle of merlot in the kitchen for cooking wine. She hated regular cooking wine as her pallet found the libation too salty. He cooked the steak to medium rare while using a sauté pan for his mushrooms. He took out a plate, placed his steak on it with tongs, grabbed the pan with the mushrooms and tilted it allowing them to tumble into place by the steak. Then he put on an oven mitt, retrieved his potato from the oven, sliced it open at the top and garnished it with butter and sour cream. He chopped up some chives and sprinkled them on top.

He untied his apron, hung it on a nearby hook, carried his plate to the table and sat down to eat his dinner. He found himself looking across the table at the empty chair. He sighed. This was not how he pictured the situation. In the back of his mind, he’d imagined Fia sitting in that vacant chair as his dinner companion. He’d stayed up most of the night researching what women liked to eat. He chewed his steak thoughtfully and considered the possibility of dessert.

After he finished his meal, he rinsed his dishes in the sink and put them along with Fia’s in the dishwasher. He marveled for a moment his dishes were standing next to hers. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they were Bexley’s? He shook his head. No matter. He opened the refrigerator and took out a miniature cherry cheesecake made for two he’d picked up at the downtown bakery. He opened the cupboard to retrieve two dessert plates then changed his mind. The cheesecake was, after all, presented on a gold foil cardboard doily. It should be served this way with two small silver dessert forks for two participants to share.

Curtis straightened his shirt and marched upstairs. He stood outside the attic door and raised his hand to knock. Suddenly, a nervousness came over him. He lowered his hand and stared at the door. Perhaps dessert was a terrible idea. He turned to leave and heard movement inside. She’s not asleep after all, he thought. He straightened his shirt again, took in a deep breath and…

“I know you’re out there,” Fia called from inside. “You’re freaking me out.”

Curtis coughed as he exhaled.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said catching his breath. “I just…I wanted to ask you to join me for dessert.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I have a little cherry cheesecake I…”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

Fia wasn’t lactose intolerant. But under the circumstances she liked screwing with Curtis’s head.

“Oh,” he said disheartened. “Well…perhaps I could find you a different dessert.”

“You know what I’d really like for dessert, Curtis? I’d like to go home. That would be the perfect ending to this otherwise miserable day.”

“I’m just trying to make you feel at home.”

“By locking me in an attic and zip-tying my hands. Yeah, that’s a brilliant way to make someone feel at home.”

“Honestly, if I’d known you were lactose intolerant I would have bought a different dessert.”

“I don’t want desert, Curtis. I want to go home and sleep in a comfortable bed.”

“Lucky for you I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’re letting me go home?”

“My aunt has a comfortable bed in the guest room. I’ll let you sleep there if you stop complaining. My aunt has some clean oversized t-shirts you can change into if you want to wear one.”

Fia considered the idea. “I could do that.”

Curtis unlocked the door and quickly flipped on the light. He saw Fia was still sitting at the table. She looked as if she may have folded her arms and laid her head on the table. “Come on.”

Fia rose and slogged towards the door. He could see she was tired. He led her down the stairs to the second floor to the guestroom. He opened the door and turned on the light.

“This is an improvement,” Fia said looking around. The room had a large painting over the bed. The bed was modern looking with a white comforter and matching pillows and sheets. There was a white leather lip couch opposite the bed and a small walk-in closet. The floor was solid wood with a white Persian rug in front of the bed.

“The t-shirts are in the drawers there by the lips. The door locks from the outside. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Curtis shut the door and locked it behind him. He headed to the master bedroom. Fia hurried over to the window and looked outside. She could see nothing to climb out on. And there wasn’t a ledge. There had to be a way out of this place.

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: ROAD HOUSE (2024)-AMAZON PRIME

This week’s movie is violent, ridiculous, lowbrow, and stupid. And it’s a whole lot of fun. Jake Gyllenhaal is in top form in this remake of the 1989 cult classic as Dalton, ex-UFC fighter with a past who finds himself asked by owner Frankie (Jessica Williams) to take a job in the Florida Keys at her roadhouse. She is willing to pay him a handsome some of money as head bouncer. After his car gets smashed by a train, Dalton decides to take her up on her offer. Leaving his elegant car behind in good hands, he takes the bus to the Glass Key neighborhood of the Keys where he meets likable Charlie (Hannah Love Lanier) a very young co-owner of a bookstore with her father Stephen (Kevin Carroll). They assist in helping him navigate his way to the Road House.

Once he arrives Frankie offers him a comfortable place to stay but Dalton opts instead for The Boat, an old boat Frankie owns which is rumored to have had a crocodile problem. Dalton quickly finds the bar to be quite harrowing after he takes five rowdy bikers outside, beats them up and drives them to the hospital. There he meets Dr. Elle (Daniela Melchior) a female doctor in the ER who tends to his injuries is none too pleased with the load of patients he has brought in. Dalton finds out the bikers work for Ben Brandt (Billy Magnussen) the local heavy who plans to tear down the roadhouse. Billy and has a few problems of his own including a man named Knox (Conor McGregor) whom his imprisoned father has sent to assist with the situation.

Be sure to check out the original Road House starring Patrick Swayze also streaming on Amazon Prime.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Eighteen

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter eighteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. I watched the Oscars last week and it was a most scrumptious event. I did miss the first part of the opening monologue because, as my novelist puts it, I was naughty. I was merely correcting Tucker the Maltese. He needed to know this was an auspicious event. He didn’t even dress for the occasion and yet I am the one who gets a timeout. After that, I was able to see all the awards. The food was delicious even if I was not allowed to have the chocolate. I must put in a request for white chocolate at these events so I can partake as well. But I was rather fond of the crackers that we had. My novelist picked seventeen of the Oscar categories correctly this year, which is not bad. She has never picked them all correctly, but she did well. We have not had the opportunity to view all the films, but we are hoping to see a few more soon. And on that note, here is chapter eighteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Eighteen

Curtis snuck up the street near the Dupree residence. He was dressed all in black including a knit hat and leather gloves with the hopes that no one would notice him or catch him on surveillance. He had the ransom note carefully packed in a large Ziploc bag. He located the neat even row of mailboxes and found the one with the numbers which corresponded with the Dupree household. He took out his keychain which had a small black nano light attached to it and shined it on the numbers to locate the correct box. He found it rather quickly and reached for the knob.

Suddenly, a large racoon leaped onto the Dupree mailbox. The racoon leaned in and stared intensely at Curtis. Startled, Curtis yelped, jumped back and examined the masked intruder. He waved his hand at the animal. “Get out of here, stupid racoon.” The racoon hissed at him. A rare thing as racoons do tend to be non-aggressive animals. Curtis could not remember the last time he had seen such a sadistic looking racoon. “Go!” he half whispered at the thing swatting his hand in its face.

The racoon did not take kindly to the swatting and swatted back catching Curtis on the left cheek with its paw. Curtis grabbed his face and ducked as the racoon continued to claw at him. Curtis glanced down and noticed a half-full bottle of water lying on its side on the ground someone had carelessly discarded when they came out to retrieve their mail. Curtis reached down and grabbed it. Between ducking the racoon’s claws, he worked the cap off and hurled the contents in the animal’s face.

Curtis’s defense gave the racoon a good scare and it jumped off the mailbox and scurried into the night. Curtis grabbed the handle of the mailbox and opened the magnetic door. He carefully removed the ransom note from the plastic bag and attached it to the outgoing mail clip. Then he slowly closed the mailbox and hurried back to his Honda.

He’d parked the car a few blocks away with the hope no cameras would see him or suspect he had done something nefarious. He climbed inside, started the engine, slowly backed the car up, and turned down the quiet suburban road.

Curtis pulled into the driveway of his Aunt Odette’s cabin. He eased the Honda up to the garage, opened the door and parked. He had not turned the porch light on to deter attention and had to be careful traversing from the garage to the cabin. A tremendous wave of pride overcame him as he stepped inside. He had succeeded. He had managed to deliver the ransom note. Now all he had to do was make sure Fia was still secure in the attic.  

He retrieved his flashlight and bear mace and headed upstairs. “Fia,” he said as he knocked on the door. “I’m coming in.” He opened the door and posed in his policeman stance with his mace in one hand and his flashlight in the other ready for trouble. He scanned the room with the flashlight and found Fia standing near some of his aunt’s old dresses.

“I’ll bet you were close to your aunt when you were a kid,” she said.

Curtis flipped on the light switch with his shoulder. “Why do you say that?” he said.

“What did you do when you visited her here?”

“She didn’t always live here. She had a house in the suburbs. A brown rambler with a big back yard and a stone birdbath in the center.”

“What else was in the yard?”

“The fence had paintings on it.”

“She hung paintings on her fence?”

“No, she had a boyfriend named Arbor who painted murals on either side. I remember they were strange but beautiful. Kind of like watery dreams.”

“Did you play outside in the yard much?’

“Now and then. I remember catching bees. I had this jelly jar and I snuck up on a bee sitting on one of my aunt’s roses. I captured it quickly and screwed the lid on tight. The bee started bouncing up and down from the bottom of the jar to the lid. It went back and forth agitated and angry until finally it just gave up.”

“Is that what I am? A bee trapped in your jar?”

“No. No, not at all. There’s a reason, you see.”

“A reason? What reason?”

“The reason is none of your business.”

“It is my business, Curtis. It’s very much my business since you’ve decided to put my life on hold and locked me in an attic. Have you even thought this out, Curtis?”

“Yes, of course I’ve thought it out. I’ve already taken the next step.”

“What’s the next step?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh. Oh, yes. Of course. I’ll have to put a zip tie on you again.”

“How am I supposed to go to the bathroom with my wrists bound?’

“If you hadn’t tried to run off maybe I could trust you.”

“You cut the zip tie off so I could eat, and I didn’t try to escape then.”

Curtis studied her for a moment. “I’m still going to zip tie you,” he said.

“Fine,” she relented. “But I need my hands bound in the front.”

“Fair enough.”

Curtis took a zip tie out of his back pocket. “Put your hands out.” Fia put her hands out in front of her. Curtis put the zip tie on them. “Alright, let’s go.”

Curtis led Fia out of the room and down the stairs to the second floor where his Aunt Odette’s bedroom was. Curtis opened the door. All yours.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with you standing right outside,” she said.

“I have to make sure you don’t bolt.”

“I won’t. Just give me some privacy, will you.”

“I’ll stand right over there,” he said pointing to the staircase.

“Fine.”

Fia stepped inside and Curtis closed the door behind her. She took note of the window. She used the facilities and turned on the water. She quietly looked down. There was nothing near to climb on to. If she jumped, she would break her leg. She would need to find a way to lower herself down. Right now, she needed to get him to trust her. Fia washed her hands and turned off the water. She noticed his Aunt Odette had a matching hand lotion to go with the soap. It was lovely. Too bad she had to have Curtis for a nephew.

“I’m ready,” she called.

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: PAST LIVES (2023)-SHOWTIME

This week’s movie was one of the movies nominated for Best Original Screenplay this year for writer director Celine Song, and although it is not one of my most favorite scripts of the year it is still well penned, properly paced, thoughtful and honest, and well worth the watch. Especially if you are the type of filmgoer who enjoys romance and lean towards more emotional stories.

The story is about two children Nora (Seung-ah Moon) and (Seung-Min Yim). We can tell even at their tender ages there is a strong connection between the two. But Nora’s parents decide to emigrate to Canada where they feel they will have better opportunities.

Twelve years later we Nora (Greta Lee) is living in New York City pursuing her dreams to become a writer. She has become Americanized and is accustomed to living in the hustle and bustle of the western world. She finds that Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) has been trying to find her online. The two reconnect and spend hours conversing. But things become tense when Nora tries to persuade Hae Sung to come see her in New York and Hae Sung tries to persuade Nora to come back to see him in South Korea. Finally, after some time Hae Sung finally goes to New York and the two reconnect over the course of a weekend.

One of the strongest parts of the story is how the two characters don’t just represent human beings but lifestyles as well. Nora is a break from tradition that Hae Sung is apprehensive about taking a chance on and Hae Sung is a re-embracing of Korean culture that Nora is apprehensive about returning to. And these obstacles strain their relationship even though it is clear both are each other’s true love. John Magaro rounds out the cast as Arthur.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Sixteen

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good evening. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter sixteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week I will be attending the funeral with my novelist. It has been a tiring week with many things to prepare. A funeral is much like a wedding except it must be done faster. It costs about the same. One is better served if one does not die broke. I had no idea how many intricacies were involved from clothes to flowers to obituaries to receptions. It is a methodical affair. I must say I am fortunate to have black and white hair. It seems to go with all occasions whether they be joyful or somber. I enjoy being the center of attention but this time I think I will stay more in the background and let my novelist and her family take the center stage. From what I have learned the southern states have more lavish funerals than those of us in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps we could learn something from them. I’m not sure we take ours seriously enough. And with that thought here is chapter sixteen of Certified Sadistic Accountant.  

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Sixteen

Once Curtis secured Fia in the attic, he decided to assemble the ransom note. He knew an email would be difficult for him to spoof so he decided to do it the old-fashioned way with words cut from magazines pasted to paper. His worry, of course, was DNA. He put on gloves, a shower cap, a face mask and made sure the surface of Aunt Odette’s desk was spotless. He rarely if ever went into his aunt’s office. He unlocked the door (she always kept it locked) and after putting on his gear sat down and got to work.  

After he had left work that evening, he stopped at the local drug store and purchased a pair of tweezers with cash. No one would think twice about someone purchasing a pair of tweezers with cash. Mr. Dupree had been quite agitated with Fia not returning to the receptionist desk after lunch. Curtis figured he was about to get a lot more agitated once he received the ransom note. Curtis stopped at a different store to purchase a package of Elmer’s Glue Sticks and a small ream of ordinary letter paper. He set them on his aunt’s desk while he located a pair of scissors in the desk drawer and sanitized them. He’d chosen a couple of art magazines from a file on his aunt’s shelf. He decided these would do nicely.

He clipped the magazine cuttings first, flipping through pages and searching for the perfect words. Brief and to the point he told himself. Nothing extraneous to give himself away. After he finished cutting out all the words, he carefully set them on a sheet of paper from the ream. Then he removed the tweezers from the packaging and set them on a second sheet of paper. He opened the glue sticks and set them with the tweezers.

He fumbled with his gloved hands slowly adhering the words to a third sheet of paper. He realized he needed a second instrument to work with the tweezers to make certain the words pressed down and stuck. He wished he had purchased a second set of tweezers. He scanned around his aunt’s desk. Suddenly, he saw an unsharpened pencil with an unused eraser on it. This would do quite nicely. He carefully cleaned the pencil with a Clorox wipe and let it dry.

He used the eraser to help steady and put pressure on the words so they would stick to the paper. It took him a good hour, but he finally finished the ransom note. He sat back in his chair and admired his artwork. He would let the glue dry while he made dinner for Fia. This time he wouldn’t make the mistake of allowing her to escape.

He removed his rubber gloves, mask, and shower cap, locked the door of the office behind him, and headed into the kitchen. He took an apron off a hook on the wall, put it on and tied it. Late last night he went to the grocery store and purchased enough food to last two weeks. He figured that should be enough time to accomplish his mission.

He turned on the oven to 400 degrees, opened the refrigerator and took out a head of iceberg lettuce, a green pepper, a cucumber, olives, snap peas, and celery. On the counter were a brown paper bag with white mushrooms and a small box of cherry tomatoes. He took a knife from the wood block on the counter and cut off some of the lettuce and chopped it up. He grabbed a ceramic soup bowl from the cupboard and lined the bottom of it with the lettuce. He neatly arranged the vegetables inside the bowl then put the bowl in the refrigerator.

He pulled a tray of chicken tenders out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. He grabbed a small pan from the bread warmer under the stove, lined it with foil, laid the chicken tenders on it and seasoned them with lemon pepper. Then he put the pan in the oven.

He located a wide stemmed glass in the cupboard and stuck it into the refrigerator to chill. He got out a fork from the silverware drawer and a cloth napkin from the cabinet beneath. He folded the napkin so he could slip the fork into it. Napkin folding was something his Aunt Odette had taught him when he was in middle school. She was determined not to have an ill-refined nephew. He found a tray under the counter and set the napkin-wrapped fork on it.

The timer went off and Curtis removed the chicken from the oven. He took a spatula from the large silver cylindrical utensil holder his aunt had on the counter near the stove, grabbed an oven-mitt and took the pan of chicken out of the oven. He lifted the chicken tenders off the pan and set them on a wooden cutting board. He grabbed a knife out of the wooden block and proceeded to cut the chicken tenders into bite-sized pieces. Curtis took the chilled salad out of the refrigerator and with a set of metal tongs he arranged the bite-sized pieces on the salad. He set the salad on the tray with the napkin and fork, stuck a bottle of balsamic vinaigrette dressing in one of the deep front pockets of his apron, stuck his bear mace in the other and headed upstairs to the attic.

This time Curtis was prepared for an escape attempt. He knocked on the door and said, “Fia, I’ve brought you something to eat.” Curtis opened the door, flipped on the light, and quickly shut the door behind him.

“I’m not hungry,” Fia grumbled.

“I doubt it,” Curtis said. “Right over there against the wall to your left is a table and two chairs.”

Fia sized up the table. “That’s a weird looking table.”

“My aunt made it.”

“Your aunt makes furniture?”

“More or less. She went through a wood phase.” Fia reluctantly lumbered over to the table. She pulled out the chair on the left-hand side and plopped down.

Curtis set the fork he’d placed inside the folded napkin on Fia’s left and placed her salad beside it. “I didn’t know what kind of dressing you liked so I brought a vinaigrette.”

He pulled the bottle of dressing out of the deep front pocket of his apron and set it beside her salad.

“Nothing to drink, huh?”

“I didn’t know what you liked.”

“Do you have Perrier?”

“I’ll check. My aunt usually keeps some stocked in the refrigerator.”

Curtis backed up cautiously keeping his eyes on Fia. She kept her eyes on him as well. He arrived at the door and fumbled for the doorknob behind him. He turned it, hopped out, slammed the door shut and locked it. He hurried downstairs to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Aunt Odette always kept large bottles of Perrier in the refrigerator door. But Curtis saw only one…and it had been opened. He took it out, poured some in a glass and tried it. It was flat. He sighed, poured the remainder down the drain, and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling.

He removed the chilled glass he’d put in the refrigerator, took out ice cubes from the freezer, put the ice in the glass and filled the glass with water from the tap. He carried the glass of water up the stairs to the attic. He knocked on the door and said, “I’ve got your water.” He unlocked the door, pushed it ajar, and quickly flipped on the light with his elbow. Fia glared back at him. “My aunt has run out of Perrier, so I brought you some ice water. He walked over to her and set the glass down on the table.

Fia studied the beverage. “Don’t you have a SodaStream to put some fizz in this?”

“No.”

Fia took a sip of the water. “Augh,” she said. “It tastes like water.”

“I’ll see if I can get you some Perrier.”

“I’d prefer San Pellegrino. In a glass bottle, not a plastic one.”

“I’ll get what I can get.”

“And some fresh lemons to go with it would be great.”

“Enjoy your food,” he said and turned to leave.

“Did you bring me here because no one will date you?”

“What? No.”

“It’s what everyone in the office thinks.”

“I don’t care what everyone in the office thinks.”

“You brough me here because you can’t get a date.”

“Shut up about my sex life.”

Fia slammed down her fork. “What am I supposed to talk about? I’m locked up in your weird aunt’s attic and I’m bored. I have nothing to do. I’ll talk about whatever I want to talk about.”

“What do you mean you have nothing to do? I thought you were a performance artist. You’re in a room filled with props and clothes and art my aunt collected and you tell me you’re bored. How did you manage to earn a scholarship? Look around, come up with an idea and stage a show for all I care.”

Curtis turned around, marched out the door, slammed it shut and locked it. Then he headed down the stairs. He unlocked his aunt’s office and dropped down in the desk chair. What did she know? Besides he had an envelope to prepare, and a ransom note to deliver. 

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 AFTER (2023)-NETFLIX

This week’s pick is another nominated short live action film from Netflix. And I should warn you it is a harrowing one. A man and his young daughter are spending an ordinary day out and about in London. And then something unexpected happens that changes their lives forever. It is not a story for the faint of heart, but it is a strong one and a quick watch at eighteen minutes.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Fifteen

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to present chapter fifteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. I hope everyone had a very Happy Valentine’s Day. A bit of trivia about Valentine’s Day is in Germany poodles are often given as gifts.

That is not right. They do not give out poodles as gifts on Valentine’s Day.

What would you know of it you rotten Maltese?

They do not give poodles or anything poodle as gifts traditionally. They give pigs.

They…pigs?

Yes. It is a Valentine’s Day tradition to give pigs and pig-themed presents as gifts in Germany.

Why?

Pigs are considered a sign of wealth and lust in Germany. I like pigs. I had a friend who was a pig once. We went to the carnival together. It was fun.

I never remember you having a pig as a friend.

We used to share cotton candy. It was cute when she got some of the cotton candy stuck on her nose. She liked the bumper cars and the merry go round. She was not fond of the bouncy house, however. She said when she was a piglet she was at a party once with a bunch of other piglets and the bouncy house blew up into the sky and hit a small biplane.

Good grief! Were they hurt?

No.

Yes, well…and with that thought here is chapter fifteen of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Alles Gute zum Valentinstag.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Fifteen

Curtis crept towards the attic door. He checked his grip on the bear mace in his right hand and the flashlight in his left. He crisscrossed his arms as if he were a cop. He listened at the door. He didn’t hear a sound. Slowly, he lowered the flashlight and bear mace to the floor. His hands shook as he tried to unlock the door. But he succeeded. The lock opened, he turned the knob and quickly grabbed the flashlight and the bear mace. He entered and scanned the room.

“Fia,” he called.

Silence.

“Show yourself, Fia,” he called as he backed up to the wall. He attempted to turn on the light switch with his shoulder but to no avail. He tried flipping it on again, scanning the room as he did.

“Fia!”

Still no answer.

He crept forwards scanning the room with the flashlight and mace. Suddenly, something moved behind him. He whipped around and saw Fia bolt for the door. He fired the mace at her, but he missed. She tripped on a small sculpture before regaining her balance and springing towards freedom. Curtis fired the bear mace again but only succeeded in spraying the back of her head. She rounded the corner and raced for the stairs. Curtis followed in a hot pursuit and headed down after her.

“Fia!”

Fia hit the bottom of the stairs and rushed into the living room. Curtis had not turned on the lights and she fumbled around in the dark for the exit. Suddenly, she tripped on the large lip-shaped couch and lost her balance. She struggled to her feet, but Curtis had made it to the bottom of the stairs. Frantically feeling her way around, she skittered behind the couch and hid.

“Fia!” Curtis yelled again as he rushed into the living room. “Fia!” He resumed his cop stance with his flashlight and bear mace. He fumbled in the dark to the floor lamp beside the chair/bookcase, carefully switched the bear mace to his right hand and turned on the light. His eyes darted around as he returned the bear mace to his right hand.

Behind the lip-shaped couch Fia held her breath. She hoped Curtis would leave the room and search the kitchen so she could bolt for the front door. She gently moved her hand under the couch, but she could tell there was no clearance, no way to crawl under and hide.

The beam of the flashlight scanned the top of the lip couch. Fia waited. She felt like an escaped prisoner trying to hide from a searchlight. She heard the blood pulsing in her head. She pricked her ears and listened for what he was doing. Was he toying with her? Did he already know she was there? Was he waiting for her to make the wrong move? Suddenly, she heard him head towards the door, open it, open the screen door, and then shut them both. She heard his footfalls on the front steps. Then there was silence.

She wanted to cry. She couldn’t stand the tension much longer. She worried if she ran for the door, he would ambush her. If she crept out from behind the couch, he’d see her through the windows. She looked to her left. There was not much space between her and the wall. She could squeeze over behind the green couch on the opposite side of the room. The problem was she couldn’t hide under or behind it because the high clearance of the legs would make it easy to see her. She peaked out from the right side of the couch and peered out the front window. It was too dark to locate Curtis. She looked over to her right at the kitchen and tried to guess how easy it would be to get there. If she could get through it, she could head for the exit facing the lake and run for freedom. But she would have to run fast, very fast if she was going to make it.

She considered turning off the floor light, but Curtis might not be far from the front door and could rush back into the house. She’d have to hope she could outrun his sight. She took a deep breath as she counted to four, exhaled as she counted to four. She turned carefully, faced the kitchen, and took off.

Curtis, who had been standing outside in the shadows close to the door, saw the moment he’d been waiting for and caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. He darted around the side of the house just in time to see Fia burst out of the back door and make a beeline for the lake. Curtis had never been athletic and quickly realized Fia was faster. But he was tenacious and headed after her as fast as his tennis shoes would take him.

Fia felt Curtis pounding up behind her and set her sights on the nearest house in hopes its owners would be home. She saw a light in the one to the left and sprinted towards it. “Help!” she yelled. “Help me!” She turned the corner and plowed up the steps to the neighbor’s porch facing the lake. She pounded on the door and rang the bell. “Help! Help!” But no one came to the door.

Lights went on in the neighbor’s house to the left, however. Curtis caught this immediately and as soon as Fia ran down the steps and sprinted for the house on the right, he jumped in front of her, shined the flashlight in her eyes and sprayed her in the face with mace finally hitting his target.

Fia screamed and held her face as Curtis hurried up and grabbed her from behind. She fought back lashing out at him blindly. She palm-heeled him in the cheek just missing his nose. The strike hurt him, but he stayed focused and grabbed her around the waist and wrestled her to the ground.

“Stop struggling, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

“You already hurt me!”

“Shut up. We’re going to get up and go back to the house.”

“No!”

“I’ve got a lot more mace in this can. I can keep this up all night.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I won’t if you get up and go back to the house.”

“You’re not locking me in that attic again.”

“You’re not running away again.”

Curtis reached into his pocket and pulled out a zip tie. He put her hands together and secured them. He got up, pulled her to her feet and started leading her back to the cabin.

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: KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON (2023)-APPLE TV+

One of the strangest Oscar snubs this year was Leonardo DiCaprio’s superb performance as the complex villainous lead in this historic crime story. The film, based on David Gran’s book Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI, tells the terrifying true story set in 1920’s Oklahoma where oil was discovered beneath land belonging to the Osage Nation. The Osage became wealthy from the valuable resource and were able to purchase expensive cars, fine jewelry, and send their children to private Europe schools. But members of the tribe mysteriously begin to die, many by violent means.

William King Hale (Robert De Niro) is the reserve deputy sheriff and a cattle rancher of the Osage. He is also a crime boss, politician, and garden variety psychopath. He owns a large ranch thanks to the fortune he amassed through insurance fraud and unfair trade with the Osage. He seeks to grow his fortune by having his nephews Byron Burkhart (Scott Shephard) and Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) marry female Osage and take their fortunes. Ernest has just returned from fighting in WWI and finds settling down with a wealthy wife appealing.

In between nightly rounds of robbing Osage at gunpoint with his brother Byron, Ernest begins working as a chauffeur for Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone in an excellent Oscar nominated performance). The relationship soon turns romantic, and he asks her to marry him. But Mollie begins to realize things aren’t quite right and the Osage enlists the help of the government to investigate the murders of their family members including Mollie’s sister Anna (Cara Jade Myers). The government agrees and sends FBI agent Tom White (Jesse Plemons) and his fellow assistants to investigate.

Although this is a solid film it does tend to run a little long and may have benefited from tightening up the story and shortening the film by about thirty minutes. That said, it’s worth watching for its historical significance, the cinematography, the costume design, and the excellent performances.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Ten

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter ten of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. We are expecting a cold snap this weekend. I for one do not like the cold. I prefer warm weather with a soft comfortable blanket encircled around me. An adjacent heat vent is also preferred and if there is winter sun shining through a nearby window that is also a plus. I sometimes question why I live where I do. A warm sunny desert often sounds so appealing. But then there would be snakes and tarantulas. Last night I dreamed a large green hairless tarantula bit my leg. I woke up with a start. I was able to fall back to sleep but then dreamed of my twin brother whom I only knew as a puppy. He was talking to me politely about something, but I didn’t trust him. I don’t remember him being untrustworthy, but I felt he was up to something. I also fear a bath is in my near future. Maybe that looming event is the root of my nightmares. And with that thought here is chapter ten of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Enjoy.  

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the Parti Poodle

Chapter Ten

Curtis studied the surveillance video, but he still couldn’t determine why the criminals looked familiar.

“I’ve called the police,” Ray said, “and they have a couple of officers who should be at your place in a couple of minutes, so we’d better drive back to meet them.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Ray and Curtis drove back to the duplex and pulled their vehicles into the driveway just as the patrol car eased up to the curb. A male officer and a female officer disembarked the car.

“Hello, officers,” Ray said climbing down from his truck.

“We got a call about a break in,” the female officer said.

“Yep. We got the crime recorded on my surveillance tape.”

“They take anything?”

“Well, they got my tenant’s dog killed.”

“Really? How?”

“They left the door ajar when they broke in and the dog ran out into the street and got hit by a delivery truck.”

“Sorry to hear that. Well, let’s look at what we have here.”

“Did it look like a forced entry?” the male officer asked.

“No,” Curtis said siding up to Ray. “The video showed they picked the lock.”

“Hmm. Maybe what we have is a couple of professional thieves.”

“Maybe.”

The two officers stepped up to Curtis’s door and studied it. “Yeah, the lock looks to be intact,” the male officer said. “Doesn’t appear to be a forced entry. In fact, they locked the door when they left. Have you been in the apartment since the break in?”

“No,” Curtis said. “No one has.”

“That’s good. Then it should be as these criminals left it. Go ahead and open the door.”

Curtis unlocked the door and the four of them stepped inside. The two officers noted how immaculate the place looked.

“You keep a clean house,” the female officer said. “Why don’t you look around to see if anything is missing.”

Curtis carefully searched through his kitchen and around his breakfast nook. Nothing seemed to be out of place. He glanced up at the corner where he’d hidden the surveillance camera, and it looked like someone had spraypainted the lens.

“Nothing seems to be missing,” he said. “I’ll go check my bedroom.”

Curtis headed into the bedroom and noticed immediately his comforter was askew. He usually made the bed neatly before heading to work and Haven had always kept it that way. But the plain white comforter seemed to have been tousled. Maybe the location of a scuffle.

He checked his closet, dresser drawers, computer desk, and under his bed. Everything seemed to be in order. He checked his hidden strongbox where he kept a stash of cash. All the money was there.

“The only thing out of place,” he said returning to the living room, “is my bed looks disheveled. I always make my bed up before I go to work, and Haven never messes it up.”

The two officers marched through the bedroom door and studied the bed.

“We’d better get the blacklight,” the male officer said.

“Blacklight? Do you think they came in here and hooked up?”

“Never hurts to look,” the female officer said.

After the officers left and Ray drove home, Curtis sat down on his couch with a cup of green tea and reviewed his own surveillance video. He scanned to the part where the two intruders entered his home. He leaned in and studied them carefully. They were obviously looking for something. He watched one of the hooded creeps head into his bedroom and the other survey the kitchen and living room. The crook looked up into the surveillance camera. He hopped up on the breakfast nook and proceeded to spray paint the lens.

Curtis quickly rewound the video to take another look at the guy. He did a freeze frame just as the creep’s face came into view. Then Curtis felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There was no doubt about it. It was Lance. That rat bastard had broken into his house and killed his dog!

Curtis stood up and roared. He grabbed the sides of his face and stamped his feet on the ground. Those creeps he worked with had taken their pranks beyond the pale. He marched out into the kitchen, yanked open his utensil drawer and began hurling silverware against the wall. It took a couple of minutes before he realized someone was knocking on his front door.

“Who is it?” he said.

“It’s Earl,” Earl said. “Are you okay in there?”

“Oh…yes. I’m just…putting some things away.”

“Sounded like that Zuul guy from Ghostbusters came over for a visit or something.”

“No. No Zuul in here. I was just…putting some things away.”

“Really? I’ve never heard you put things away that loudly before.”

“Yeah, well, I felt like being…loud.”

“Okay, man. I’m sorry about Haven.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you taking her to the animal hospital.”

“Absolutely, man. I hope they catch the guys who did it.”

“Yeah. I hope they do something like that.”

“What?”

“Thanks, Earl.”

Curtis listened as Earl headed back to his apartment. Then he looked around at the mess he’d made. He sighed and left the strewn silverware everywhere and went back to his couch, plopped down and continued watching his surveillance tape. He rewound it and watched it again from where the two scumbags entered his home. He focused on the one who wasn’t Lance. It had to be either Grady or Irving.

And then he realized it was a woman. How had he not figured that out before? Makenna. Of course, Makenna. She’d picked the lock. She’d probably concocted the sick plan, the rotten little slut!

Curtis jumped up and paced around stepping on table knives, spoons, and forks as he went. He couldn’t take this lying down. He had to act. But how? The more he thought the more he believed Grady and Irwin were in on the whole rotten scheme too. All of them had set out to kill Haven. They probably planned it at The Steamed Bean drinking those overpriced coffees while he stayed in the office. He was going to tear them to pieces. He was going to get revenge.  

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 HOLDOVERS (2023)-PEACOCK

American movies have been going downhill in recent years but occasionally there is a bright shiny star amongst the rubble. This week two of this film’s lead actors rightly took home Golden Globes and I was overjoyed. I only have three complaints: Dominic Sessa should have also had a nomination; Alexander Payne should have had a nomination and most perplexing of all why in the world didn’t this fantastic original script by David Hemingson get a nomination? It’s easily one of the best screenplays of the 2020’s original or otherwise and I hope the Oscars recognize its brilliance and give it a nod.

Alexander Payne has a stellar list of credits to his name, and this film is amongst his best. Set over a two-week period during Christmas vacation at a prestigious boy’s New England boarding school we meet history teacher and longtime curmudgeon Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti in a career best Golden Globe winning performance), a brilliant single alcoholic intellectual who has absolutely no patients with his spoiled lazy wealthy students. In fact, he fails most of them on their final test. One of the students Teddy Kountze (Brady Hepner) manages to argue for a makeup test which Hunham agrees to give immediately. However, Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa) who has a rivalry with Kountze argues it isn’t the right time for a makeup test with Christmas break starting that afternoon and could they take it when they come back. After listening to Tully’s argument Hunham rescinds the offer, leaving the boys to face their parents with their horrific grades.

Worse still, during a last-minute phone call with his mother Judy (Gillian Vigman) Angus finds out he cannot go home for the holiday and is stuck at the school with the other “holdovers” which includes Kountze, two younger boys Jim Kaplan (Ye-Joon Park) and Ian Dolley (Alex Ollerman) and fellow classmate, cool and hip Jason Smith (Michael Provost). Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph in a much-deserved Golden Globe winning performance) the head chef at the school is also staying over to cook meals for the left-behind boys. Mary has gone through a horrific recent tragedy and bravely struggles to maintain a strong front. Paul Hunham has been chosen by the rest of the staff, who dislike him almost as much as his students to be the boy’s guardian until classes recommence.

But as luck would have it Jason’s father decides to call a truce with his son who refuses to cut his long flowing blonde locks. Jason invites the boys to accompany his father and him to a ski resort, provided they are granted permission from their parents. Paul contacts and gets permission from all the parents…except for Angus’s mother which leaves a modified Angus alone at the school for two weeks with Paul and Mary.