Tag: short-story

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Thirty-One

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter thirty-one of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week my novelist found my beloved weasel. I have not seen this toy in a very long time. I have been keeping this treasure close to me. I carry it around in my mouth, curl up with it when I sleep, and adore it wherever I go. For quite a while my novelist seemed to think I was not a Canis lupus familiaris who liked toys. She is sadly mistaken. I love my toys. But especially my beloved stuffed weasel which I adore with all my heart. Its head even squeaks. I love the squeak. It is something I can truly call my own. My novelist originally took my weasel away because I would bait the Maltese by setting it out for him to find and then attack. Ah, the good old days. But now that my weasel is back in my possession, the sun is brighter, the air is sweeter, and my world is better. May you too find the lost toy you so long to embrace. And with that thought here is chapter thirty-one of Certified Sadistic Accountant. J’adore les jouets!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Thirty-One

Curtis sat in his dad’s silver Honda CR-V LX wringing his hands and clenching his jaw. He knew he couldn’t sit there forever with his dad wondering why he hadn’t returned. But he was certain if he went back inside the sports bar the tall guy with the baseball hat who was already describing him to the deputy would peg him instantly.

Curtis caught something out of the corner of his eye and turned to see his father standing outside the window with a to-go bag in his hand and a perplexed look on his face. Mr. Cook walked around to the driver’s side door and climbed inside.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked Curtis. “You said you had to go get something and the next thing I know thirty minutes have gone by.”

“I couldn’t find what I was looking for,” Curtis said.

“I had the bartender pack up your meal and I left her a generous tip.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you sick or something?”

“No.”

“Because you look sick or something.”

“I’m not sick or something.”

“What did you come out to the car to get?”

“You know whatever it is Aunt Odette wanted you to have I can get it for you. You don’t have to drive out to the cabin today.”

Mr. Cook narrowed his eyes. “We’re driving out to the cabin,” he said and started the car.

Curtis sat stiffly in the passenger’s seat, his mind racing. Stay calm, he told himself, just be cool. She’s locked in the attic. If dad stays downstairs everything will be okay. He could retrieve whatever Aunt Odette wanted to give his dad and get out. No one would be the wiser.

“I like driving around here on Sundays,” Mr. Cook said. “Less traffic.” He glanced at his son and then back at the road. They drove over the river and continued north towards the mall. “I overheard that deputy ask that guy about a kidnapped college student. Have you heard about this?”

“Maybe.”

“Apparently this guy works at a sports memorabilia store at the mall and saw her come in with a guy around the same age.”

“Interesting.”

“I mean you get robbed and then this college woman disappears. What’s going on in this town?”

“The world’s getting more dangerous, I guess.”

“Have you thought about moving back in with us?”

“No.”

“It would be cheaper for you.”

“It would be a longer drive to work.”

“What if thieves break into your house again? What if you’re home? They’ve already done it once and gotten away with it. What’s to stop them from doing it again?”

“They will never do it again,” Curtis said defiantly.

“You could boarder with your Aunt Odette.”

“No.”

“Her place is big enough for the two of you.”

“She doesn’t want me to live there and I don’t want to live there.”

“It would be closer to work.”

“It would be a lousy drive in the winter.”

“Your aunt does it.”

“That’s because she’s crazy.”

“She’s not crazy she’s eccentric.” The Honda passed the mall and stopped at the intersection. The light turned green, Mr. Cook hung a right, and they headed for the lake. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“Let’s hope not,” Curtis grumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Curtis looked out the window at the lake. He was certain his dad wouldn’t hear Fia in the attic if he kept him downstairs. But he’d have to keep him downstairs. 

Mr. Cook turned into Aunt Odette’s driveway and parked the car. Curtis looked up at the top floor of the cabin where Fia was working on her art piece. The two men disembarked the Honda and headed towards the cabin.

“I see your aunt still has that lip couch,” Mr. Cook said when they stepped inside. “Do you know how expensive that thing is? She told me she’s going to buy a yellow one for the master bedroom. This is what happens when an art student goes to New York and sees things she can’t afford. She ends up buying them. I still like this bookcase chair though. At least it’s pragmatic. You can enjoy the aesthetics of the chair and grab a book to read at the same time.”

“What was it Aunt Odette wanted you to have?” Curtis said impatiently.

“It’s a photograph she took of you as a child. Apparently, she entered it in a competition recently and won. So, she took the picture and the award and stored them in the attic.”

“The attic?”

“Yeah, I’ll just run up and get it.”

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“There’s…a squirrel up there.”

“A squirrel?”

“I saw a squirrel in the attic when I went up to get the coverings for the paintings. So, I got a trap and set it up there.”

“Let’s go up and see if you caught it,” Mr. Cook said and headed for the stairs.

“No,” Curtis said blocking him. “If…if I didn’t catch it, it might escape and run roughshod all over Aunt Odette’s cabin.”

“She’s got a lot of art in the attic so she’s not going to be happy about it running roughshod up there either.”

“And I have a profound fear of squirrels.”

“A profound fear? Not just a run of the mill fear?”

“They freak me out with their bushy tail and that scratching noise they make when they run up trees.”

Mr. Cook looked at his son with concern. “Be that as it may I still need to get that photograph.”

“Just let me go up and get it.”

“With your profound fear of squirrels?”

“But…but this way I could see if I caught the little critter.”

“You’re not making any sense, Curt. I’m concerned about you. You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“I just really need to get back to my taxes, dad.”

“Maybe you need to change occupations.”

“Just wait down here. I’ll go check on the squirrel and get the picture.”

Mr. Cook shook his head. “Fine,” he said and plopped down in the bookcase chair.

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 RIGHTEOUS GEMSTONES (2019)-HBO MAX

This week’s pick is a hilarious raunchy show that was recommended to me by a family member. If you are looking for something fantastic to binge watch over the summer, here it is. Created by Danny McBride along with a fantastic cast including John Goodman, it’s both a send up and a lampooning of American mega churches. Be forewarned, the first episode has a dark ending but don’t let that throw you. Keep watching this sleeper because it just gets better and better. It’s one of those comedies that should be reeling in wheelbarrow loads of Emmy nominations but for some inexplicably bizarre reason it is not. What is wrong with Hollywood? Has that become a rhetorical question?

Dr. Eli Gemstone (John Goodman) patriarch of the Gemstone family has recently lost his beloved wife and the light of the family Aimee-Leigh Gemstone (Jennifer Nettles) and must face the future of the Gemstone mega church with his three adult children Jesse (Danny McBride), Judy (Edi Patterson) and Kelvin (Adam Devine). All these kids have seriously disturbing issues and handle situations abominably, but Jesse especially has gotten himself into some hot water. His oldest son Gideon (Skyler Gisondo) has run away from home, much to the dismay of his wife Amber (Cassidy Freeman), and a blackmailer named Scotty (the always funny Scott MacArthur) is threatening to release an explicit video of Jesse and his church buddies which will surely go viral and threaten the Gemstone name. Also, Eli’s get rich quick brother-in-law Uncle Baby Billy (Walton Goggins) wants to get back into the family business and is willing to use every trick in the book to do so. This show is an absolute must see.  

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-Six

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce Chapter Twenty-Six of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week my novelist and I thought it might be fun to list one dozen of the original motion picture scores that we enjoy listening to when we write. Our criteria being the scores must be almost exclusively instrumentals and they must have been original music written for the film. Here they are in alphabetical order:

  1. American Beauty by Thomas Newman  
  2. Drive by Cliff Martinez. This one is still in print.
  3. Fire Walk With Me by Angelo Baldalamenti. This one is still in print.
  4. Memories of Murder by Taro Iwashiro
  5. Rocky by Bill Conti. This one is still in print.
  6. Rounders by Christopher Young
  7. Secretary by Angelo Baldalamenti.
  8. Sex, Lies and Videotape by Cliff Martinez
  9. Sideways by Rolfe Kent
  10. Taxi Driver by Bernard Herman. This one is still in print.
  11. The Game by Howard Shore
  12. Vertigo by Bernard Herman. This one is still in print.

As an honorable mention I will list Bubba Ho Tep by Brian Tyler and make this a baker’s dozen. This is a great score especially the tracks “All is Well” and “The King’s Highway”.

In addition, as a toy parti poodle I would like to extend an exuberant congratulations to Sage the miniature poodle who won the Best In Show at the Westminster Dog Show this week. This was a huge victory for the poodle pack worldwide. Here she is:

And with that here is chapter twenty-six of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. May the Poodles be with you.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Six

“I’ll help,” Fia said rising from her chair and heading into the kitchen where Curtis was loading the dishwasher.

“There’s not much to do,” he said slipping the table knives into the silverware caddy.

“I’d rather be useful than bored.”

Curtis reached up and grabbed a small whisk broom and dustpan set. “You can sweep the table,” he said handing them to her. Her arm brushed against his leg as she did. Curtis felt a shiver run across his skin. A comfortable pleasant shiver. He looked down at her shiny hair and wondered what it felt like. “Thank you,” he said, his knuckle grazing hers as he took the set from her hand and put it back up on the hook.  

“So, what are we doing today?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t go to work today so what are we doing instead?”

“I need to get this ransom note delivered.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s my priority.”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to continue working on my project in the attic today.”

“What project?”

“My performance art piece.”

“Your performance art piece?”

“Your aunt has a lot of wonderful things in her attic. I didn’t realize how much it was until I got into some of the cabinets and boxes. Do you want to see what I’ve put together so far?”

Curtis thought he’d very much like to see what she’d put together so far. “I do not want to interrupt your work.”

“What do you mean? You would be helping me. I could use an audience at this point in the process.”

“I…would be delighted.”

“Why don’t I work up in the attic and you figure out your ransom note situation.”

Curtis nodded. “Alright,” he said and closed the door to the dishwasher.

After Curtis let Fia in the attic and locked the door, he went downstairs to his Aunt Odette’s office. He closed the door, sat down at the desk, and put his head in his hands. How exactly was he going to deliver that ransom note to the Dupree residence?

He could drive to the town just beyond the lake. There was a trading post there he could Fed Ex the letter to. He’d just pay cash, and no one would be the wiser. The only concern was the surveillance camera. If he could recognize Lance on his system, surely, they could recognize him on theirs. He would need to find a way to go incognito. But he needed to hurry because they likely closed at one on Saturdays. He thought about what Fia said about the clothes in the attic. Maybe there were some stored up there he could use. He grabbed the keys and headed up the stairs.

“Fia,” he said knocking on the attic door. “I need some help.”

“What’s the matter?” she said.

He unlocked the door and opened it. He saw she had the place set up like a black box theatre.

“What do you need?”

“I need some men’s clothes. I think Aunt Odette went through a menswear phase when I was a kid.”

“Okay…yeah. I think she did have some men’s clothing in that trunk over there,” she said pointing to a large vintage steamer trunk.

“Fantastic.” He made a beeline for the trunk. He unlatched it and opened the lid. He lifted out the full-length drawer inside that was snapped shut and set it on the floor. Inside were tailored suits, shirts, and hats.

“What do you need these clothes for? They look like they’re from the 70’s or something.”

“I have to go somewhere.”

“I thought you had to take care of the ransom note.”

“That’s where I’m going.”

“Are you sure these will fit you?”

“They’ll have to.”

“But you wear a suit to the office.”

“Not like these things.”

Fia studied him. “You want some help figuring out what to wear?”

Curtis stopped rifling through the trunk and considered her proposal. “Sure.”

Fia walked over to the trunk, knelt, and nudged him aside. She picked up a blue dress shirt and held it up against him. “This one matches your eyes,” she said.

Curtis watched her face as she studied the shirt before handing it to him, crawling over and unsnapping the drawer he’d taken out. She opened it to find a collection of silk ties, belts, tie bars, and cufflinks.

“Wow,” she said. These are some seriously wide ties. This one is snazzy.”

She picked up a silk tie with a gradation of three bold blue stripes. There was a black semicircle to the side with the rest of the length of the tie a golden tan. “Hold the shirt up against you again,” she said. He held it up and she laid the tie against it. He felt the back of her hand against his chest. Another shiver ran across his skin. “That doesn’t look half bad. Let’s pick out a jacket.” She lifted out a stack of folded shirts and set them aside. Then she pulled out a tan jacket and a blue one. “You know, I think the tan jacket looks pretty good, actually. Try it on.”

Curtis unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Fia noticed he wore a t-shirt underneath. He didn’t look half bad in it, she surmised. He put the blue dress shirt on over the T-shirt and began buttoning it up. Fia stood up and put the tie around his neck and started tying it. Curtis studied her as she did. She had creamy skin with childlike rosiness still in her cheeks.

Fia slipped the tie through the knot and tightened it. “There,” she said. “That looks good.”

“Thanks.”

“Put on the jacket.”

He swung the jacket over his shoulders, slid his arms through, straightened the lapels, and studied the hats. He grabbed a grey and white hound’s tooth fedora and put it on.

“You know what?” Fia said. “Let me style your hair. Give it a retro look.”

“Just hold still,” Fia said as Curtis sat on a wooden stool in the bathroom as Fia styled his hair with a curling iron. She took another section of his hair and rolled it up with the iron.

“I look stupid,” Curtis said studying his reflection in the mirror.

“Men got perms in the 70’s. My mom told me about it. My grandpa had one.”

“How long does the curl last?”

“A day maybe. If you wash your hair its gone.”

“Just one more section here.” She took the last of his hair and rolled it in the silver rod. She held it there for a moment and then released it. “There. What do you think?”

Curtis studied the results. “Bizarre.”

“I think you look 70’s cool. Stand up.” She set the curing iron on the counter and studied him. “Where are you going?”

“Let’s get you back to the attic so you can work on your performance art piece. Maybe tonight I can see you perform what you have.”

“Sounds good.”

Curtis nodded. “Wish me luck.”

Fia reached up and ran her fingers along his silk tie. “I could really use a flashlight up there. I would like to use it in my piece.”

“My aunt has one in her bedroom. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you,” Fia said. She turned off the curling iron and left it on the counter to cool.

They left the bathroom and headed for the master bedroom. “She always kept one by her bedside,” Curtis said moving over to the bedside table and opening the drawer. “It’s small but its mighty.” He reached in and pulled out a small flashlight. He pointed it at the wall and turned it on. “Yep,” he said. “Works.” Then he handed the flashlight to Fia.

“This is perfect.”

“I look forward to seeing it in your show. Now, let’s get you back to the attic.”

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 ZONE OF INTEREST (2023)-HBO MAX

Evil comes in different forms. And one of them is indifference. This film is not for everyone. Not because it has explicit violence but because we never see violence. Violence is left to the imagination. And that’s what makes it chilling. But there is no doubt it is there, just on the other side of a wall that boarders on a beautiful piece of property in Poland. There are children, and lush gardens and flowers, and a clean airy house. And the house is filled with lovely things most of which were stolen off the dead burned bodies of Jews who were killed on the other side of the wall. We see the smoke, hear the screams and the gunfire. We even witness the ash used to help the gardens flourish. And the family, kids included, know exactly what’s going on. They know because they see the steam of the trains constantly coming in and the relentless smoke from the buildings filling the air. But they do not care. They are too interested in their treasures like long fur coats and French perfume and teeth filled with gold. They are happy with their lives and have no problem with the fact that it comes with the incineration of millions of men, women, and children next door in Auschwitz.

This is a stark film brilliantly directed by Jonathon Glazer who, despite the fact I adore Christopher Nolen, maybe should have taken the Oscar here. Not to mention the marvelous cinematography by Lukasz Zal. There are little to no close ups in the film. The audience is kept at a distance throughout because what we are viewing are soulless people, psychopathic people, with no real human emotion, save the wife’s mother who, while visiting the family has an epiphany. And it allows the audience to see the bigger picture. It forces us to step back and examine how to never let it happen again. The film is based on the book The Zone of Violence by Martin Amis who co-wrote the script with Glazer. The movie differs greatly from the book, which has more of a love story woven into it. There is no love story here.

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 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 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.