Tag: fiction

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.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Six

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter six of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week has been most depressing. My novelist has fallen ill and has remained in her room for the last couple of days. The Maltese and I are being looked after by…Him. Him is a reluctant dogsitter. Him is under the impression we are spoiled. Spoiled indeed! It is not spoiled to want to go on walks. It is not spoiled to expect meals at a certain time. It is not spoiled to be able to sleep on my regular bed (although the bed I am borrowing is comfortable). And it is not spoiled to want my novelist back. I am heartbroken. I sit outside her door and whimper mournfully. My holiday season has come to a screeching halt. I am concerned Santa may not come. We still do not have our Christmas tree up. We have not hung our stockings. We have not decked our halls. Woe is me. Woe is me. Not only am I stuck with the Maltese I am stuck with…Him. I am hoping my precious novelist is on the mend and will reemerge tomorrow. Until then my heart is dourer. But being a professional I must power through. And so, dear reader, I bring you chapter six of Certified Sadistic Accountant and hope your holiday season has been jollier than mine.  

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Six

Curtis entered the office Tuesday morning on time (his on time). The last thing he wanted to do this weekend was head up to his Aunt Odette’s cabin on Big Lake and take old dusty paintings down off a wall and put them in whatever packaging she had stored in her attic.

He headed into the breakroom to brew himself a cup of coffee to take to his desk and sulk. To his surprise he found Fia already there filling the tea chest.

“Good morning,” she said with a lilt in her voice.

“When did you get here?” he asked.

“Daddy and I got here at seven-fifteen.”

“Mr. Dupree is here?”

“He’s in his office.”

“I’m always the first one in.”

“I guess we beat you.”

“I guess.”

“How come you don’t stop at The Steamed Bean before you come to work like the other accountants?”

“I’m trying to save up some money.”

“Money for what?”

“My future.”

“How’s that going so far?”

“Well, acually.”

“Are you going to buy a new car or something?”

“No. Sometimes saving money isn’t about buying something.”

Just then, Dallas Dupree entered the break room.

“Good morning, Mr. Dupree,” Curtis said.

“Morning, Cook. My daughter is going to shadow Bexley today.”

“Oh, good.”

“Don’t get any fresh ideas.”

“Dad,” Fia said embarrassed.

“Sir, I…,” Curtis said equally embarrassed.

“Truth is her mother just wants to get her out of the house. I think our croissants just arrived.”

Curtis headed for the door, but Fia blocked him. “No, no, no,” she said. “I will let her in.” Fia glided over and opened the door. “Good morning! Welcome!”

“Who are you?” the girl asked, bringing in the pink cardboard box of fresh croissants.

“I’m Mr. Dupree’s daughter but today I’m the receptionist.”

“Groovy,” the girl said and handed the box of croissants to Fia.

“Dad, where do you want these?”

“In the breakroom,” Dallas Dupree said.

Fia took the box and headed into the breakroom. Dallas walked up to the delivery girl and handed her a tip, “Thank you, sport,” he said. “My daughter is going to be the receptionist while Bexley’s on vacation.”

“Cool,” sport said. “My sister went on spring break. She spent all her spring quarter tuition money.”

“I see.” Dallas was delighted he had never let his daughter go on spring break. Her internet shopping sprees were terrifying enough.

Fia returned from the break room and said, “I’m going to The Steamed Bean to get a skinny vanilla cappuccino with whipped cream and pastel sprinkles.”

“The coffee I have stocked here is excellent,” Dallas said. “I picked out a special brew just for the office.”

Fia looked at her father blankly.

“I drink it every day,” Curtis said holding up his cup. “And it’s a lot better than buying an overpriced cup of coffee that, over the course of a year, will cost you your total annual IRA contribution.”

“Fine,” Fia said, tension in her voice. “I’ll drink your coffee, daddy.” Then she headed back to the break room.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, sport?” Mr. Dupree asked the delivery girl.

“I’m not allowed to drink coffee,” she said. “My parents won’t let me.”

“Well…good for them. We’ll see you tomorrow, sport.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Dupree.”

“See you tomorrow, sport,” Curtis said cheerily.

The delivery girl looked at Curtis, grimaced, and left.

“Daddy,” Fia called from the break room. “Do you have any Italian syrups in here?”

“For coffee?” Dallas asked.

“Yes.”

“There’s refined sugar, raw sugar, fake sugar and local honey.”

“Yuck. Okay, well, I’ll figure it out.”

Dallas sighed and said to Curtis, “I can’t keep up with the changing trends these kids are into.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dupree. “I know your coffee is excellent.”

“Thank you, Cook. But I think you and I are the only ones who drink it.”

Mr. Dupree headed upstairs to his office. A couple minutes later Bexley unlocked the front door and stomped inside. She tossed her skull patterned umbrella into the umbrella holder, threw up her hands and announced, “My bags are packed.”

“That’s so exciting,” Fia said jubilantly as she emerged from the break room holding her cup of coffee. “You’ll have so much fun.”

“Yes, I will. Maybe I’ll enjoy myself so much I won’t come back. Alright, let’s go over what you need to know.”

The two young women walked behind the receptionist’s desk.

“This is the phone,” Bexley said pointing to the phone. And these are the buttons. “If a call comes in you press this button, pick up the handset and say, “Dupree Tax Agency, Fia speaking. How may I direct your call?” And when they tell you whom they want to talk to you push the button again and then push the button of the person they want to talk to. I’ve got a chart here to show you which number corresponds to which accountant including your father.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Fia said.

“It is…until you get a second call. Then you push the second button and say, “Dupree Tax Agency, Fia speaking. May I put you on hold? Then you wait for them to say yes, push the second button again which puts the second caller on hold. You go back to the first caller by pushing the first button and say, “I’m going to transfer you now,” and then you push the first button again and then dial the corresponding number of the accountant they want to talk to and then you push the button of the second caller and say, “How may I direct your call?” Then you wait for them to say whom they want to be transferred to and then you push the second button, dial the number of the accountant they want to talk to and transfer them to that accountant.”

“What if there’s a third caller?”

“You do the whole thing except you have to say to the third caller, “Dupree Tax Agency, Fia speaking. May I put you on hold?” And then you wait for them to say you can put them on hold, push the third caller’s button, take care of the first caller, get back to the second caller and ask them who they want to be transferred to, push their button, then dial the accountant’s number, get back to the third caller, ask them which accountant they want to be transferred to, transfer them and then you take a big drink of coffee and go back to reading your book.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not as confusing as it sounds. You also greet clients as they come in and direct them to their accountant. Then you go back to reading your book. I’ve read a lot of books doing this job.”

“Is there anything else you do?”

“If I’m bored, I water the plants and if I’m really bored, I clean up the breakroom.”

“The breakroom always looks spotless.”

“I get really bored a lot.”

Fia turned and caught Curtis looking at Bexley and her. They stared at each other for a second before Curtis averted his eyes and focused on his computer screen.

Just then there was a knock on the front door and the two young women turned to see the four accountants standing there with pastel coffee cups in their hands. Fia walked around the receptionist desk to let them in. She glanced at Curtis. He did not look up at her. She unlocked the door and the accountants entered and headed for their desks.

“Hey, Cook the Books,” Lance said enroute to his chair.

“Good morning,” Curtis replied.

Lance looked at Curtis’s and noticed Curtis had a picture of Haven sitting there wearing a purple ribbon in her hair. “Still got that dog?”

“Yes,” Curtis said. He’d had the picture sitting on his desk for nearly a year and found it odd Lance asked about it now. “Why? Are you thinking about getting a dog?”

“Something like that.” He nodded his head at the receptionist desk. “Dupree’s daughter’s kind of cute, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty.”

“I’d do her.”

“I don’t think Mr. Dupree would appreciate that.”

“You’ve got to stop worrying about what the big guy thinks. Besides she’s of age.”

“It’s a good way to lose your job.” Curtis glanced at the receptionist desk. “Do you think Bexley’s going to find a boyfriend down there on spring break?”

Lance scoffed. “No.”

Curtis nodded.

“Besides, I’m going to ask her out when she gets back.”

“What? You can’t do that!”

“Why?”

“What’ll…what’ll Makenna say?”

Lance shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “I was just joking, dude. She’s never going to go out with you.”

Curtis felt his face flush. “I never said I liked her.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“You’re a douche, Lance.”

“Yeah, well you’re an easy target. And good luck with this year’s bonus award. You’re going to lose that too.”

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 KILLER (2023)-NETFLIX

This week’s pick is not for all tastes as it is not a redemptive story by any means. But it is a riveting one just the same. Similar in ways to Kill Bill and based on the French graphic novel series The Killer by Alexis “Matz” Nolent and illustrated by Luc Jacamon, the story is about a cold-blooded nameless hitman known only as The Killer (Michael Fassbender) who is methodical and unbending in his work. We watch him and listen to his thoughts as he prepares to take down the target he has been paid to assassinate. But even the best laid plans can go wrong. Knowing he is on the run he uses a series of aliases based on television characters to take varying flights. He finally returns to his compound in the Dominican Republic only to find it has been brutally invaded and his lady love Magdala (Sophie Charlotte) in the intensive care unit at the local hospital. Realizing his equally lethal peers have come crawling out of the woodwork to destroy him he decides he needs to deal with them the only way he knows how and promises Magdala’s brother Marcus (Emiliano Pernía) he will make things safe again. Thus, bringing us to the top of Chapter Two.

Rounding out the cast are Charles Parnell as The Lawyer, Hodges, Kerry O’Malley as Dolores, Claybourne’s office assistant, Arliss Howard as The Client, Claybourne, Sala Baker as The Brute and Tilda Swinton as The Expert. The characters in the story who are closer to humans tend to be the ones with names. The film is directed by the talented David Fincher.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Five

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good morning. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter five of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. The holiday season continues, and we have yet to put up our tree. As my novelist is allergic to Christmas trees, we are required to have an imitation one. We keep it in a special tree bag and every year we take it out and put our ornaments on it. I do so wish we could have a real one. My novelist would like a real one as well, but alas that is not possible. The Maltese does not have an opinion on the matter which comes as a shock to none of us. One unfortunate joy of the holiday season is sipping a cup of hot cocoa. As I am a dog, chocolate in any form (except the occasional white chocolate) is a no-no. The fragrance of it though is intoxicating. I adore the way the little marshmallows bob on top like magical buoys. Or how gorgeous whip cream encircles it like the zenith of a mountain with a small candy cane inside and green and red sprinkes adorned the top. Oh, how my heart longs for hot chocolate! But that is another matter. For now, I wish you happy holidays and present chapter five of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant.  

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Five

“We need to come up with something that’ll really catch him off-guard this time,” Lance said as the four accountants sat in the back corner of The Steamed Bean discussing their clandestine plan.

“I think he’s got to believe he won an even bigger contest than just a concert,” Irwin said. “Say, a trip to Hawaii or something like that.”

“No, no, no,” Grady said. “It must be colossal. We need to do something that will blow his mind.”

“What does he love more than anything else?” Makenna asked. “If we really want to get him this time you need to go after something he loves.”

“That’s a little sadistic, don’t you think? I mean I’m all for messing with the guy but going after something he loves? That’s nuts.”

“Didn’t he buy a dog last year or something?” Lance said.

“A dog?” Makenna said. “What kind of dog?”

“Some little pocket furball. The kind my sister would own.”

“That’s it. We’ll kidnap his dog.”

“Whoa,” Grady said. “That’s illegal.”

“So what?” Lance said. “It’ll be fun. It’s not like we’re going to get caught.”

“I don’t know,” Irwin said. “That sounds cruel. Even for us.”

“We need a way to break into his house,” Makenna said before sipping her red eye espresso.

“Do you think his place has cameras?” Lance asked.

“Of course, it has cameras. He’s a douche not an idiot.” Then she turned to Irwin and said, “Irwin, you have the best artistic sense. We need you to design the ransom note.”

“I’m flattered. I’ll do it. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Grady, we need you to take care of the dog.”

“I haven’t had a dog since I was a teenager. We had an Irish Wolfhound.”

“Curtis has a lap dog. It will be an easier experience than taking care of an Irish Wolfhound.”

“I don’t know,” Lance said. “My great aunt had a Maltese, and he was horrible. Always waking her up in the middle of the night wanting to go outside. Had this relentless bark. Couldn’t train it to stop barking on command.”

“You don’t think this little rug wolf is going to keep me up all night with its barking, do you?” Grady asked.

“I sincerely doubt it,” Makenna said. “It will probably just sit in your lap and fall asleep.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“I have an iguana.”

“Whoa. That’s cool.”

“Sometimes he does unspeakable things, but I usually forgive him.”

“Okay, I’ll watch the little furball. But I’m not going to break into Cook the Book’s house just to nab the little guy.”

“I’m the one who will be breaking in. I have experience.”

“I’m breaking in with you,” Lance said.

“Not a chance. You’ll bungle the job.”

“I won’t bungle the job.”

“When was the last time you broke in and robbed someone?”

“College. I broke into a professor’s office.”                                                                                                                

“Really?” Irwin said.

“Really.”

“Fine,” Makenna said. “You can be my assistant. We’ll also need to grab the dog food Cook feeds the little puffball. We don’t want it to eat the wrong dog food. It could get sick.”

“Great,” Grady said. “That won’t be a monster sized problem or anything.”

“We’ll nab the dog food too,” Lance said. “So, when are we going to do this thing?”

“Soon,” Makenna said. “Before Tax Day if we really want to get under Cook’s collar.”

“How about Wednesday?”

“Agreed. We will do it on Wednesday. Irwin, get started on that ransom note tonight. Lance and I will break into Cook’s house at lunchtime. We’ll leave our phones at the office so there is no trace of us going there. Grady, give me a copy of your house key when we meet for coffee Wednesday morning before we head into the office. Then Lance and I can take the dog straight to your house and come back here at the end of lunch and no one will notice a thing.” 

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: UPGRADE (2014)-HBO MAX

This week’s movie is a science fiction story about artificial intelligence. And it starts out great. A few years in the future we meet Grey Chase (Logan Marshall-Green in a likeable performance) whose occupation is working on and restoring sports cars in his home garage, the kind of cars that still require a human driver. Grey is married to Asha Trace (Melanie Vallejo) who works for an AI tech company that makes self-driving cars amongst other things. One evening after Asha returns from work Grey needs to deliver one of his restored cars to a wealthy young man named Eron (Harrison Gilbertson). Grey asks Asha to accompany him and bring her self-driving car with her, so he has a ride home. When the couple arrives, which requires a long trek to get to the house, Ashe finds out Eron is Eron Keen, the peculiar but brilliant founder of one of her company’s competitors. Eron tells her in so many words her company is hardly his competitor, and he is working on a new product that will help enhance humankind and shows off his newest invention which looks a bit like a Hexbug.

The couple heads home in Asha’s self-driving car when the vehicle short circuits, takes the wrong route and crashes. Grey and Asha find themselves on the wrong side of town, with the wrong crowd “rescuing” them from their high-tech vehicle. A brutal incident occurs which ends up leaving Grey seriously injured. So injured, in fact, he may need Eron’s new product to become whole again.

The film is riveting and engaging. Logan Marshall-Green gives the film a wonderful sense of humor and I look forwards to more of his performances. The ending, though logical, falls a little short, which is sad because it is a terrific concept, well penned and on the precipice of greatness. I am not sure if the ending was writer/director Leigh Whannell’s original vision or if producers messed with it or what exactly happened. But the first three quarters of the film are smart, droll, clever, and well-paced which makes the movie well worth the watch.