Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Forty-Seven

October 24, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter forty-seven of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week was calmer than last. I am looking forward to Halloween. I love to bark at the little munchkins who come to my door asking for treats. Being a Canis lupus familiaris I am aware of the importance of treats. And I sympathize profoundly with those who must dress in absurd clothing and go door to door asking for them. As a poodle I am frequently asked to do tricks for my treats. I find this most vulgar. I either must turn around in a circle or sit up or lie down or shake my novelist’s hand. Dreadful humiliation all of it. I should make my novelist do these inane acts for the treats I give her like keeping her on schedule, complimenting her on her writing, and telling her how to drive. She should demonstrate appreciation for my input. I have no idea where she would be without my suggestions. I will say she does not force me to dress as a hotdog or a ballerina for the upcoming holiday. She knows better than that. Although I am occasionally required to wear a Darth Vader hoodie when we go walking in colder weather. And with that thought, here is chapter forty-seven of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Oidhche Shamhna Shona Dhuit!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Forty-Seven

Lance rang the doorbell. “Cook? Cook? Hey, Cook?”

“We know you’re in there,” Irwin said.

“Why do people say, “I know you’re in there”? Like the person who’s in there doesn’t know the person who’s out there knows they’re in there.”

“Just try and open the door and see if he left it unlocked,” Grady said.

“What if its boobie trapped?” Irwin said.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut up again, Irwin,” Lance said. “Next time I’m just going to put my foot in your ass.”

Grady marched between the two men, opened the screen door and grabbed the doorknob. He turned it and it opened. “Told you.”

“It’s a trap,” Makenna said.

“Yeah, well, we’re going in.” Grady pushed the door open, and Lance and Irwin headed inside. Grady turned and looked at Makenna. Makenna looked at him then at the door. “Get in here.”

Makenna crossed her arms and eyeballed him. Then she followed him inside.

“This place has weird furniture,” Lance said walking over and sprawling on the lips couch. “Not as comfortable as I would have guessed.”

“Cook,” Grady yelled. “We know what you did. Come out here and let’s talk. We saw you drive here. We know you’re trying to make it look like we kidnapped Dupree’s daughter.” The four accountants waited for an answer but all they got was silence.

“He’s hiding,” Lance said.

Makenna stepped up to him. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No.”

“You’re a fool.” Makenna turned and headed for the door.

Lance rushed over and blocked her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Did you hear that?” Irwin said.

“I didn’t hear anything—”

“Shh. Everyone shut up and listen.”

“It’s coming from upstairs.”

All the accountants except Makenna headed for the staircase.

“It’s a trap,” she said.

“Cook!” Lance yelled.

Makenna sided up to Grady. “You’re a smart guy. Let’s leave.”

“We’re all going up there, Makenna,” he said.

“Don’t do this.”

“Get going.”

Makenna narrowed her eyes and filed behind Grady. The four accountants headed up the steps. When they reached the second floor, they realized it was dark.

“This place creeps me out,” Irwin said.

“Cook!” Lance yelled down the hallway. But there was no answer. He cocked his head. “Did the music just stop?”

Everyone stopped and listened.

“No, no. I hear it again. Where is that coming from?”

“I think its one floor up,” Grady said. “Let’s go.” The motley crew headed up the stairs to the third floor which was even darker than the last. “There’s got to be a wall switch here somewhere.”

The accountants felt along the walls. “Here it is,” Lance said and flipped the switch. But the lights didn’t go on. “Great. Cook killed the electricity.

“Come on, Cook,” Grady yelled. “We just want to talk to you, man.”

“The music’s getting louder.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re closer to it,” Irwin said.

“I think it’s coming from over there,” Lance said pointing towards the attic door.

“Let’s head towards it and see what’s going on,” Grady said. The accountants headed in the direction of the attic. “This is it alright.” He reached out and felt around the surface of the door and found the knob. He turned it and pushed it open. The inside was as dark as the hallway except for the center of the room. It was lit up like a stage.

“Cook!” Lance called out.

The music stopped. After a beat a moody saxophone jazz started up. The accountants crept towards the lighted middle of the room. Standing there was a mannequin with long feathery red hair wearing a 70’s era disco gown. The gown had crystal beads on it that sparkled in the light.

“Weird,” Lance said.

Soap bubbles started to rise from the back of the figure.

“Weirder,” Irving said.

“Cook,” Grady called out. “Stop with the freakishness and come out here. We want to talk about Fia’s kidnapping and get to the bottom of this whole mess.”

“Look!”

Grady and Lance turned to look at what Irving was pointing to. A large bear had suddenly flopped over the mannequin. It waved its hand at them.

“Cook!” Grady yelled and walked around to the other side, but he found no one.

“Makenna’s right,” Lance said. Let’s just leave. Makenna? Makenna? Where’s Makenna?”

The three of them looked at each other and then around the space. Then they rushed towards the door.

“It’s locked,” Grady said attempting to turn the knob. “Makenna!”

Just then the three of them heard a motor revving up.”

“She’s stealing my minivan!” Grady said.

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: MARATHON MAN (1976)-SHOWTIME, PARAMOUNT+**

Is it safe? A question that will ring in your ears for days after watching this taunt, tense thriller that keeps its audience on the edge of its seat all the way until its final scene. This is not a traditional Halloween movie, as most Halloween movies these days seem to be squarely in the horror genre. But it is a fantastic study in suspense and a unique kind of cold-blooded terror. The picture is directed by John Schlesinger and written by William Golden based on his book of the same name.

Thomas “Babe” Levy (Dustin Hoffman) is a graduate student at Columbia University working on his post graduate history thesis. He is trying to help clear his father’s name. His father’s career was ruined by scandal involving the McCarthy hearings which caused Babe’s father to commit suicide. Babe is also an aspiring marathon runner who idolizes Jesse Owens and runs every day trying to beat his time. One day while studying at the library he meets another student Elsa Opal (Marthe Keller) who he believes is Swiss and falls in love with her.

Meanwhile in Paris, a CIA agent named Henry “Doc” Levy (Roy Scheider) realizes he and his fellow agents have become targets for an assassin. Doc is one of those guys with a particular set of skills. He confides in his friend, fellow agent Janeway (William Devane) about his concerns, especially after an assassin breaks into his hotel room.

And elsewhere, down in Paraguay a former Nazi and dentist named Dr. Christian Szell (Lawrence Olivier) also known as the “White Angel of Auschwitz” finds he must come out of hiding to protect his fortune after his brother is killed in a car accident in NYC.

How these three stories fit together is the premise for a genuinely disturbing story produced by The Kid Stays in the Picture himself, Robert Evans.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Forty-Five

October 11, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce the forty-fifth chapter of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Yesterday was one of the weirdest days of my novelist’s life. It started out innocuous enough. She’d planned to drive to Costco. On the way she discovered the entire street she usually drives out to get there was closed for construction. She followed the traffic to the detour and then decided not to take it and go further around. In doing so she managed to get lost. She pulled into a business park and shut off the engine. She then called…Him to help her figure out how to get home. While she was waiting for…Him to call back, she got a phone call from the dentist asking if she was running late. Caught completely off guard and thinking her check up was next week, she had to reschedule her appointment for two weeks out.

Now, over the weekend on Sunday afternoon my novelist sat and began writing a speech she is planning to give. She is rather passionate about the contents, and she began punching her fists in the air and yelling out what she had written. She felt her chest starting to become tight and she was hoping it would go away, but it was still bothering her on Wednesday. So, when she returned home after her botched voyage to Costco, she called her primary care doctor to see if she could get an appointment. They told her to go to the emergency room as a precaution to get checked out for any cardiac issues. She reluctantly did and four hours later (which isn’t too bad really) after they had done a thorough number of tests, she found out she had no cardiac issues, and she’d probably pulled some muscles in her chest. So, she came home and prepared to go to a meeting that evening. Just as she was getting ready to go, she dropped her gold ring. She told me it did not make a sound when it fell. She searched everywhere for it, but it was nowhere to be found. I assisted her of course, but to no avail. She returned home after her meeting and after we looked everywhere again, we found it had fallen into a small bag of knitted items, thus the reason for the silent fall.

She did not sleep well last night either. I caught her getting up at one in the morning to play solitaire on her computer. I had to tell her that sort of behavior isn’t going to help her sleep any better and after all the oddities of the previous day I would be best served if she got to bed before I give her a stern reprimanding. And with that thought, here is chapter forty-five of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Que vos journées soient moins bizarres que les nôtres.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Forty-Five

Just after Fia and her father Mr. Dupree returned from their meeting with Sheriff Bob, the receptionist’s phone rang. Fia hopped up to the desk and took the call. She wrote something down on the Dupree Tax Agency stationery and carried the note over to Curtis and placed it face down on his desk. Curtis lifted the note and read its contents. Then he carefully slipped it into the top drawer of his desk. Before getting up to retrieve his afternoon cup of tea, he locked the top drawer with a small key attached to a keychain and slipped the keys into his jacket pocket.

The only other person in the office to take note of this note situation was Makenna. Her laser stare examined the meticulous care Curtis took with the information he had received and decided to have a tete-a-tete with the only other woman in the office.

“How have you been doing?” she said to Fia after strolling up to the receptionist desk.

Fia looked at her from behind false eyelashes. “What do you mean?”

“With the whole kidnapping matter.”

“Better than I anticipated.”

“It must have been horrible locked in an attic against your will.”

“I managed.”

“I would have found out the identity of my captor at all costs.”

“I think you might be underestimating my kidnapper.”

“I never underestimate anyone. Do you remember something? Is that why you went and talked to Sheriff Bob today?”

“He wanted me to look at some mug shots to see if they jogged my memory.”

“Did they?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. Is there something else you needed, Makenna?”

“I just wanted to let you know anytime you need someone to talk to I’m a great listener.”

Fia nodded. “I don’t doubt it.”

Makenna smiled and headed back to her desk. She sat down and leaned over to Lance. “They’re in on it together.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s not under duress.”

Just then Curtis returned from the breakroom and set his cup of tea on his desk. He sat down and returned to his work, never unlocking the top drawer to look at the note.

Makenna, Lance, and Irwin all left the Dupree Tax Agency at staggered times near the end of the day. Each one parked their car over in the grocery store parking lot across the street. Then one by one they hopped into Grady’s minivan with the tinted glass and hid inside.

Grady remained in the office until Curtis headed out to his Honda Accord. He followed him out and climbed into his minivan. He waited there as Curtis pulled out and started to drive off. Then he started the engine, and the four accountants began to follow the Honda. Grady kept a car between his minivan and Curtis’s Honda so as not to be suspicious.

“Looks like he’s just heading home,” Irwin said.

“Maybe,” Makenna said. “Don’t lose him, Grady.”

“I won’t lose him,” Grady said. “If you wanted to make sure you didn’t lose him, you should have been the driver.”

“I don’t own a minivan. How was I supposed to pile everyone into my Jaguar?”

“Yeah, I really feel sorry for you.”

“Just shut up and drive, would you?”

Grady followed Curtis out of the downtown area, over the bridge, and up the hill where they made a right at the light and drove until they reached Curtis’s apartment.

“Ugg,” Lance said as Grady parked across the street from the duplex. He lives in an even worse place than I thought.”

“Shut up,” Makenna said. “Let’s see what he does.”

“I need to get to work on the Davis case this evening,” Irwin said. “I need to finish their taxes by Thursday.”

“No one cares. We’re all busy with clients’ taxes. But right now, priority one is to stay out of prison. Sit back, relax, play a game on your phone, and shut up while I figure out what to do about Cook.”

“Looks like he’s heading into the house,” Grady said.

The accountants watched as Curtis disembarked his car and headed for the front door.

“Probably going to play with his stocks and sip his green tea,” Lance said. “The guy’s a douche.”

“Check out this guy,” Irving said as Curtis’s neighbor Earl stepped out of his apartment and headed over for the chairs and table on his porch. He wore his terrycloth bathrobe, a t-shirt from a local saloon, a pair of flipflops, and a fedora.

Lance laughed. “This guy is rich.”

Earl set a paperback and a can of Mountain Dew down on the table. He plopped down in his chair, picked up the book and opened it on his lap.

“What do you think he’s reading?” Irwin asked.

“Fifty Shades of Gray,” Lance said and everyone except Makenna burst out into laughter.

“Shut up,” Makenna said. “We’re trying to frame Cook for Fia’s kidnapping. If he staged this whole crime, he’s going to head back to whatever place it was he had an attic. Either that or Fia is going to show up. We need to be there when he makes that mistake so we can report him to the cops before he tries to frame us as well as peg us for the break in and the escape of his stupid mutt.”

Inside his apartment Curtis slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved the note Fia had given him. He’d never really locked the note in his top desk drawer. He’d become fascinated with sleight of hand in middle school and kept up the practice through high school as well. He was aware of the importance of the note and didn’t want anyone to know it had never left his person. Especially since one of the tricks his fellow employees had played on him was filling his desk drawers with coffee beans. One way or another, they had a way of getting into his desk. And so, he unfolded the note and began to read.

MY BOOKS

**STREAM OF THE WEEK: BABY REINDEER (2024)-NETFLIX**

Winning four Emmys this year for Best Limited Anthology Series, Best Lead Actor in a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie, Best Supporting Actress in a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie, and Best Writing for a Limited or Anthology Series, Baby Reindeer may be one of the most bizarre original limited series made to date. It is a dark comedy and an autobiography of the show’s creator writer and lead actor Richard Gaad who does an excellent job in all categories as he examines the sometimes amusing, sometimes heartbreaking accounts of his life when he worked as a bartender struggling to become a comedian. It is based on Gaad’s original one-man stage-play Baby Reindeer that premiered at the 2019 Edinburgh Fringe. I will warn you this show is not for everyone. It is bold, brave and raw with disturbing, albeit important subject matter that is neither for younger viewers nor for the faint of heart.

Donny Dunn (Richard Gaad) is a young Scotsman who works at a London pub. Even after their breakup, he still lives with his ex-girlfriend Keeley’s (Shalom Brune-Franklin) mother, Liz (Nina Sosanya). One day while tending bar a heavy-set forty-something woman Martha Scott (Jessica Gunning in a stunning performance) walks in and sits down at the bar. Martha claims to be a lawyer who knows a lot of prominent people but for some reason doesn’t have the money to pay for the cup of tea she orders. Taking pity on her, Donny says it is on the house. Unbeknownst to him, this small act of kindness will snowball into the biggest nightmare of his life, and open doors to the unspeakable horrors of his past. If you have never seen the show, that’s all you need to know. After you view the entire series, I recommend you watch the now famed Piers Morgan interview.

Rounding out the cast are Emmy nominated Nava Mau as Terry, Mark Lewis Jones and Amanda Root as Donny’s father and mother, and Emmy nominated Tom Goodman-Hill as the bone-chilling Darrien.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Forty-Three

September 26, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good morning. Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter forty-three of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. My novelist has somewhere she has to go today and if she gets up early, I get up early. One cannot allow one’s novelist to galivant off on her own. Novelists are unbalanced creatures. They require a great deal of management. My novelist says there is nothing more disturbing or destructive than a manager, but she will just have to accept that I am in charge. She is off to assist a relative with their Shakespeare text. My novelist, as you may know, studied theatre as well as writing. When one analyzes Shakespeare text one has to go through the dialogue word for word with a pair of Shakespeare lexicons: A-M & N-Z. Tedious, of course, but what a word may mean in one play in one character’s dialogue may be different in another’s and so the work must be done. I must be there for emotional support and make sure they are flipping the pages properly. Wish me luck on this endeavor as it is a history play that we will be working with. Until next week, please enjoy this forty-third installment of Certified Sadistic Accountant. ‘Mal à l’aise est la tête qui porte la couronne’— (Henry IV, Part 2, Act 3, Scene 1)

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Forty-Three

Curtis, who had left to retrieve his water bottle from his car headed back inside through the rear entrance.

Hey, Cook the Books,” Lance said. “You’re late this morning.”

“I got here at my usual time,” Curtis said holding up his water bottle and shaking it. “I forgot this in my car.”

Curtis glanced at Makenna. She had an odd look on her face like she was reading his mind. He set the water bottle on his desk and sat down at his computer. As he began working on the Rutan account, he saw Fia descending the stairs after leaving her father’s office. She headed behind the receptionist desk and sat in her chair.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Fia picked it up. “Dupree Tax Agency. How may I direct your call? Oh, Sheriff Bob. Thank you for calling—yes‑yes, that’s right—yes, I’d like to do that—yes, that would be fantastic—talk to you later—bye.”

“What was that all about?” Lance whispered to Makenna.

Makenna shook her head but didn’t answer.

There was a knock on the front doors. Everyone turned to see Sheriff Bob and Deputy Gunther standing outside. Fia hopped off her chair and went over to the door to let them in.

“You got here fast,” Fia said.

“We were in the neighborhood,” Sheriff Bob said. “Did your dad want to go with you?”

“No, I’d just assume not trouble him with it.”

“I don’t think he’d mind under the circumstances.”

“Just the same, I’d rather go alone.”

“Suit yourself.” He turned and looked at the accountants with a sunny smile. “How are you all doing this fine morning? I don’t think Gunther and I got the chance to tell you folks about how much my officers and I appreciated your help the other day.”

“You’re welcome,” Lance said prompting Makenna to give him a shove.

“Anyway, I just wanted to thank everyone for helping us out that morning—”

“Except you,” Gunther said pointing to Curtis. “You never did show up.”

“I explained my absence to Mr. Dupree,” Curtis said.

“Yeah, maybe.” He turned to Fia and said, “Let’s head over, shall we?”

“Okay,” Fia said and followed the two officers out the door.

“Who’s going to answer the phones?” Grady asked.

“Hey, Cook,” Irving said, “why don’t you answer the phones since you didn’t bother showing up for the sting.”

Curtis looked around the office. Everyone was looking at him. “Fine,” he said and got up from his chair and headed to the receptionist desk. He was just about to take a seat when the phone rang. “Dupree Tax Agency. How may I direct your call?”

Makenna crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair studying him. She knew he knew but she didn’t know what he was planning to do next.

Lance leaned into her and said, “What do you think Fia’s talking to the cops about?”

“Who cares,” she said. “What I want to know is what’s going on in Cook’s medulla oblongata.”

“Looks like he’s trying to score points with the big guy by answering the phones.”

“There’s something wrong with him.”

“You can say that again.”

“No, there’s been a shift in him. Like he’s hiding something. We’ve got to do something. Plan something. Get prepared.”

Lance stood up. “I need a croissant. You want one?”

“Bring me two.”

“You must be hungry.”

“Just bring me two.”

As Lance headed towards the break room, Mr. Dupree descended the stairs. He looked over at the receptionist desk and panicked. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Everything’s fine,” Makenna said. “She just went to help Sherriff Bob with something.”

“Help him with what?”

“Probably the kidnapping case.”

“Why didn’t she tell me about it?’

“She didn’t want you to worry.”

“If she had something to tell Bob about the kidnapping, she should have let me know. I just talked to her this morning about it.”

“Maybe you should just go call the police station and ask what’s going on.”

Mr. Dupree looked around the office at the faces of his employees. “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I should do.” Then he turned around and headed back up the stairs.

“Here you go,” Lance said strolling out of the break room and heading over to Makenna’s desk with a croissant in each hand.

“Set them down,” she told him.

Lance set the two paper plates on Makenna’s desk. She snatched one up and headed over to the receptionist’s desk.

“Didn’t look like you’d gotten your croissant this morning,” Makenna said to Curtis.

He looked at the pastry then at her. “How…thoughtful,” he said.

“Have you bought a new dog yet?”

“Haven just died, Makenna.”

“Huh. So, why didn’t you show up to work on the day Sheriff Bob set up his kidnapper trap?”

“I realized I made an error on the Plowman account. It was bothering me so much when I woke up, I went straight to my computer to fix it. When I finally figured out what the problem was, I the day was over.”

Makenna nodded her head. “Interesting. You almost never make a mistake.”

“The main thing is Fia’s safe.”

“Right.”

As they locked eyes with each other the phone rang. “Thanks for the croissant,” Curtis said picking up the handset.

“Anytime.”

MY BOOKS

**STREAM OF THE WEEK: AS GOOD AS IT GETS (1997)-HBO MAX**

All genres have at least a few good movies. Even genres some film aficionados don’t care for. This week’s pick is an excellent example of how to make a romantic comedy: great characterization, a superb cast, smart dialogue, and a very well penned script like this one written and directed by James L. Brooks who was nominated for an Oscar in both categories. This comedy even dares to clock in at two hours and nineteen minutes, and it never drags. Perhaps because the film was made in the 1990’s when there was a plethora of superb landmark filmmaking going on, scripts like this one could get made. Now we’re stuck on the precipice of another Oscar season of mediocre dreck. Maybe since the fallout of the writer’s strike and Covid has thinned out, great films might make a comeback. But for now, perhaps it’s just as well to seek out great entertainment like this one and weather the storm.

Melvin Udall (Jack Nicholson in a fantastic Oscar winning performance) is a misanthropic romance writer who hates everyone. He detests his gay neighbor, artist Simon Bishop (Greg Kinnear in a solid Oscar nominated performance), Simon’s agent Frank Sachs (Cuba Gooding Jr.), and Simon’s Brussels Griffon, Verdell. He makes cutting remarks to customers in restaurants, managers, maids, neighbors, party goers and just about anyone who irritates him. In fact, the only person on the planet Melvin does like is Carol Connelly (Helen Hunt in a charming Oscar winning performance), the only server he’ll let wait on him in the same restaurant he frequents every day. Carol is too world weary for her age and the only person in Melvin’s world who has a sharp enough wit to snap back at him, which he secretly admires.

But even with Carol, Melvin cannot keep his acerbic remarks to himself. One day he makes a brutal comment about her son Spencer (Jessie James) who has acute asthma and is constantly ending up in the emergency room. In the meantime, Simon, who’s art show is not doing as well as expected, takes on a new model, a streetwalker named Vincent (Skeet Ulrich) who has friends who plan to rob the painter. The two incidents converge and send Melvin who suffers from acute OCD on an unexpected journey that surprises not only Melvin but the others in his life as well.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Forty-One

September 12, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter forty-one of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week my novelist has been trying to help a couple of her relatives who are trapped in that most terrifying level of Dante’s hell, the public school system.

Apparently, public schools have the right to force students to work without pay. In other words, instead of the student taking a class, they have the right to force the student to work as a lacky for said school during a class period as opposed to the student sitting in a classroom learning a subject. They can claim there is no room in any other class during said period. And they have the legal right to do this to cover up their scheduling mishaps.

Instead of allowing the student to take a different class during any given period, the public school system can force a student to work as a lacky in the office instead of allowing them to be enrolled in a class and in return pay them nothing. Because it is during school hours, it can go under the guise of credit robbing the student of hours they could be sitting in class learning a subject. My novelist and I believe public schools should not have this right.

Schools should begin setting up student schedules no later than sixty days before classes begin. And schools should be required to send out schedules to all students attending school no later than fourteen days before the beginning of the school year, allowing the students to be able to alter any mistakes the school district may and likely will make.

After this debacle, we, and I’m sure many of you, are fed up with the incompetence of the bureaucratic American school system, their profane carnal lust for institutions, their abuse of minors, and their complete and utter disregard for logic and intelligence. And with that, here is chapter forty-one of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Dans l’ensemble, vous n’êtes qu’une autre brique dans le mur.

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Forty-One

Curtis arrived at the Dupree Tax Agency the following day in his pale green Honda Accord. He killed the engine and headed inside the rear entrance. He was early which meant he was earlier than his usual early arrival. It was supposed to be sunny today and when he gazed out the front window of the agency that appeared to be the case.

Curtis headed into the breakroom and filled the coffee machine with beans. He retrieved a sleeve of coffee cups from the cabinet and stacked them at the coffee station. Then he made himself a cup of joe and headed out to his desk to work on his accounts.

Twenty minutes later Mr. Dupree arrived. He marched over to Curtis and said gruffly, “Cook, a word in my office.”

This was not the usual cheery greeting Curtis was accustomed to receiving from his boss. However, it was not unexpected either. And so, Curtis rose from his chair and headed up the stairs after Mr. Dupree.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Dupree said gesturing to the chair across from him and straightened his sport coat.

“You were supposed to be here yesterday. The police sent an officer around to your place of residence. You knew Fia had been kidnapped and everyone was supposed to be here yesterday so the police could carry out their sting operation. I sent all my employees an email and Sherrif Bob left all my employees a voicemail. Yet you didn’t show up by seven forty-five as you were told. Where were you and why weren’t you here?”

“I was on my way to work when…something unexpected happened,” Curtis replied.

“What happened?”

Curtis knew he had to come up with an explanation and he had to come up with it fast. “I…realized I had made an error on one of the tax forms.”

“An error?”

“Yes. I was driving to work when I realized I had somehow miscalculated something on the Plowman account.”

“That’s one of our largest accounts.”

“Yes, Mr. Dupree it is. I had to go back and check the forms. It was an unusual morning because I was running late and as you know I am never late. So, I turned my car around and started driving back home.”

“Why didn’t you just keep heading for the office and log in from here?”

“I…I don’t know, sir. I guess I panicked.”

“In all the time you’ve worked here I have never known you to make a mistake on any tax form whatsoever. Lance, now that guy is a royal screw up. There aren’t enough erasers in the world to handle his mistakes. But you? Your near flawless.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Mr. Dupree. But I assure you, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes.”

Mr. Dupree kept a steady gaze on Curtis. “Why didn’t you call the office when you realized you’d made a mistake?”

“I meant to. But I got so caught up in trying to locate the error that by the time I should have called in the day was half over. So, I just stayed at my apartment and rechecked all my other accounts.”

“Did you find any more errors?”

“No. Just the one on the Plowman account. And it was a big one. But it’s fixed now, and everything’s okay.”

“Cook, the police were certain those monsters who kidnapped my daughter would return to the agency. They wanted to make sure everyone was on deck and ready by seven forty-five sharp Monday morning. And I’m having a difficult time understanding your behavior.”

“My behavior?”

“You should have been more concerned about my daughter. We needed everyone on deck in and place and you put a dent in Sheriff Bob’s sting operation, and we were unable to catch the kidnapper. Luckily, she happened to escape and stumbled onto the church there at the bottom of the hill. The one that heads up to the high school. They drove her down here and she appears to be unscathed.”

“That’s the important part; Fia is unscathed.”

“No, Cook, that’s the lucky part. I don’t know what her mother and I would have done if she had never come back.”

“Well,” Curtis said attempting to appear as if he were surmising. “I’ve been thinking about this whole strange event, and I wonder if you’ve considered the idea that it could have been an inside job.”

“An inside job?”

“Maybe one of your employees…or possibly a couple of them planned this. Maybe they wanted to get money out you.”

“There was no ransom note, Cook.”

“You’re right…maybe it was revenge.”

“Revenge? Why would they want revenge? I’m just an accountant. I’m just a man who runs a tax agency. I am faithful to my wife, I haven’t committed any crimes, and I’m a member of the Kiwanis for heaven’s sake. I am an upstanding person in this community. Who in the world would want to seek revenge on me?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m just brainstorming, sir.”

Mr. Dupree rose from his desk and began walking about. “Revenge…revenge…revenge…hmm…I just don’t see it, Cook. Everybody likes me. And besides, Fia said she never got a good look at her kidnapper. Turned out it was just one kidnapper. There’re maniacs out there, Cook. And my Fia was in the hands of them.”

“Sometimes maniacs are not what they seem. Sometimes they’re the people you see every day.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Cook?”

MY BOOKS

**STREAM OF THE WEEK: SIDEWAYS (2004)-HULU**

It is always a special treat to rewatch a movie that still makes you laugh, still makes you feel and most importantly still makes you think. This well-deserved recipient of the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay by Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor, is based on the book of the same name by Rex Picket.. The same screenwriting pair also co-wrote the smart and sardonic adapted script Election based on the novel by Tom Perrotta.

Sideways is a fantastic, funny and poignant story about two former college roommates who are facing middle age. Jack (Thomas Haden Church in a wonderful Oscar nominated supporting actor performance), is an aging pretty-boy actor who is getting married in a week. Miles (Paul Giamatti in yet another brilliant performance who was wrongly snubbed by the Academy here) is a divorced morose middle school English teacher waiting to find out if his novel is finally getting published.

The two men take a trip from Los Angeles to California wine country in lieu of a bachelor party for a week of wine and restaurants. Or at least that is what Miles thinks. But Jack has a different idea in mind. He wants to party it up and get laid during his last week of freedom.

At a restaurant called The Hitching Post, a place Miles frequents whenever he is in town, Jack spots a beautiful waitress named Maya (Virginia Madson in a lovely Oscar nominated performance) and quickly realizes she is smitten with Miles, and likely has been so for some time. Maya is recently divorced and working towards her masters in Botany. Jack encourages Miles to try and hook up with Maya. But Miles still deeply and profoundly misses his wife, fellow wine connoisseur Victoria (Jessica Hecht) and doesn’t think Maya is good enough for him. The two men also meet Maya’s friend, Stephanie (Sandra Oh) a wine pourer at another establishment. Jack begins hitting on Stephanie despite Miles’s reservations. But despite his protests, Miles finds himself helplessly caught up in a chain of spiraling events.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Thirty-Five

July 18, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter thirty-five of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week I had a tea party with Bernard D. Bunny. We tried a white tea with apples blend from Harney & Sons. It was sensational. As white tea has the most caffeine of all the teas, we had an abundance of energy for the rest of the afternoon. We also nibbled on short bread cookies infused with cherry green tea. We did a bunny hop with a baby bunny named Belle A Bunny, Bernard’s younger sister. We also played leapfrog and of course Bridge. I am rather good at the game if I do say so myself. But Belle turned out to be the expert. She won the most rounds. She is quite wily. And the white tea made her wilier. Afterwards, I headed back inside and had a good nap before putting the final touches on my story. And so, here it is chapter thirty-five of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Bonne journée du lapin d’été!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Good morning, sport,” Dallas Dupree said to the delivery girl as she arrived early Monday with the day’s croissants.

“Where’s that guy who’s always here when I come in?” the girl asked.

“You mean Curtis? I don’t know. I was surprised he wasn’t here when I arrived. He’s always here when I get here.”

“Is your daughter still missing?”

“Yes. My wife and I have had the worst week of our lives.”

“That sucks.”

“Oddly the kidnappers did not ask for money.”

“Isn’t asking for money what kidnappers do?”

“Usually.”

“Well, good luck. I hope your daughter comes back soon.”

“Thank you, sport. Here you go.”

Mr. Dupree handed the girl a tip.

“Thanks, Mr. Dupree.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mr. Dupree unlocked the front door and let the girl out then he locked the door back up and headed into the break room to get a croissant and a cup of coffee before going upstairs to his office.

Ten minutes later Grady, Irwin, Lance and Makenna, each carrying a pastel coffee cup from The Steamed Bean unlocked the front door and entered.

“This whole thing is bizarre,” Irwin said.

“But we’re here on time,” Grady said checking his watch. “That’s what matters.”

Makenna looked over at Curtis’s empty desk. “Where’s Cook?” she asked.

“Cook?” Lance called out.

“Maybe he’s in the bathroom,” Irving said.

“He’s always at his desk when we come in,” Makenna said.

“He’s not there now.”

Makenna marched into the breakroom. Curtis wasn’t in there. “That’s odd,” she muttered and marched back out. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Dupree,” she announced and turned towards the stairs.

“Is Cook the Books in there?” Lance asked.

“No,” she said and ascended the stairs. She knocked on Mr. Dupree’s office door.

“Yes?” Mr. Dupree said.

“It’s Makenna.”

“Come in.”

Makenna entered his office and said, “Curtis isn’t here yet. Isn’t everyone supposed to be here by seven forty-five?”

“He’s still not here?”

“No.”

“I called Sheriff Bob a few minutes ago. He should be here soon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dupree.” Makenna headed back down the stairs to the other accountants. “He hasn’t shown up today,” she announced.

“Maybe he got caught in traffic,” Irwin said.

“In this town? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Suddenly, the receptionist’s phone rang. All four accountants turned to look at each other.

“Should we answer it?” Grady asked.

Makenna rolled her eyes and sighed. She walked over and picked up the handset. “Hello?”

“Good morning, ma’am,” Sherrif Bob said.

Makenna turned on the speakerphone. “We’re all here except Curtis Cook,” Makenna told him.

“Alright. I’ll send a patrol car around to Mr. Cook’s place of residence to see if he’s home. He might be running late for work.”

“He lives in a duplex,” Lance said.

“I see. I’m calling it in right now. A patrol car will be there shortly.”

“Thanks,” Makenna said and hung up.

“Maybe Cook the Books is the kidnapper,” Lance said.

Makenna scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Cook couldn’t plan a library fine.”

“Gunther,” Deputy Gunther heard over his police radio as he was on route to the Dupree Accounting Agency.

“Deputy Gunther here,” he said. “Over.”

“This is Sheriff Bob. I need you to take a swing by Curtis Cook’s house. Over.”

“That guy who lives in the duplex? Over.”

“Yeah, that guy. Would you drive by his place of residence and see if he’s still home? Over.”

“He’s not at the accounting office yet? Over.”

“Not yet. Over.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. Over.” Gunther turned his prowler around and headed towards Curtis’s duplex.

When Deputy Gunther arrived, he didn’t see Curtis’s pale green Honda Accord parked in the driveway. He spotted Curtis’s neighbor Earl sitting outside his apartment wearing a blue terrycloth robe and sipping coffee. When Earl saw the officer marching up to him, his eyes widened, and he stopped mid sip.

“Curtis Cook?” Gunther asked.

“No, I’m his neighbor Earl.”

“Do you have identification?”

“Yes, sir.”

Earl reached over and grabbed his billfold off the mesh metal table beside his folding chair, removed his driver’s license and handed it to the deputy. The deputy glanced at it and handed it back to Earl.

“Did you see your neighbor Mr. Cook leave for work this morning?”

“Curtis leaves for work before I get up.”

“Did you hear Mr. Cook leave?”

“No. He’s usually very quiet. Even more so since his dog died.”

“When did his dog die?”

“Last Wednesday.”

“How did the dog die?”

“She escaped from the house when Curtis was at work. Some robbers broke in and Haven, that’s the dog, ran into the road.”

“Then there’s a record of it. What type of dog was it?”

“A Yorkie.”

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Cook?”

“Friday evening. He was leaving.”

“Do you know where he was going?”

“No.”

Deputy Gunther knocked on Curtis’s door. “Mr. Cook?” Nothing. He knocked again. “Mr. Cook?” Silence. Gunter peered around the side of the house. “Is there a way into the back yard?”

“You can follow the fence line. You’ll have to climb over.”

Deputy Gunter moved around the side of the house and expertly hoisted himself up and over the fence like an Olympic gymnast. He headed over to the bedroom window. He looked inside and saw Curtis’s bed was made and his laptop was sitting closed on the neat and orderly desk. By the bed was a photo of a small round fluffy Yorkshire Terrier puppy.

“Mr. Cook,” Gunther said rapping on the window.

No answer.

Deputy Gunther swung back over the fence and came around to the front. He strode over to the prowler and said into the radio, “Cook’s not at his place of residence. Over.”

“He’s still not arrived at the accounting agency either,” Sheriff Bob answered. “Over.”

“His neighbor says his dog was killed last Wednesday while he was at work. Over.”

“How was the dog killed? Over.”

“His house was broken into by thieves. The dog got loose during the robbery and was hit by a car. Over.”

“I wonder if that has something to do with his having gone missing. Let me talk to Dal and see what I can find out about Mr. Cook. Over.”

“I’ll head out to the Dupree Accounting Agency. Over.”

“See you there. Over.”

MY BOOKS

**STREAM OF THE WEEK: RUN LOLA RUN (1998)-AMAZON PRIME**

Finally, finally, finally this fantastic film is available for streaming. Winner of the Sundance Audience Award in 1999 and nominated for the BAFTA for Best Film Not in the English Language in 2000, this highly imaginative brilliantly written and directed film by Tom Tykwer and edited by Mathilde Bonnefoyis is as fresh and exciting today as it was when it was released over twenty-five years ago. Not one second of this fast paced, edge of your seat, real-time time bending 80-minute masterpiece is dull.

The premise is simple and straightforward: Manni (Moritz Bleibtreu) has screwed up. He’s left a bag of 100,000 German francs on a subway train. A homeless man named Norbert von Au (Joachim Król) has taken it. Manni must come up with 100,000 German francs in the next twenty minutes or he will be forced to rob the grocery store near the payphone he is calling his girlfriend Lola (Franka Potente in a stellar performance) from. If Manni doesn’t deliver the money to the criminal it belongs to, he will most assuredly be killed. Lola, whose moped has been stolen, must come up with a way to get the cash and run to Manni to deliver it before he makes a fateful decision. Every choice Lola makes along the way decides not only Manni and her destiny but everyone else’s along the way.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Thirty-Four

July 11, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter thirty-four of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. My novelist and I finally had the opportunity to attend the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. She is much calmer presently which makes me much calmer. But now we must wait and see if the goodies she ordered online arrive and don’t sell out. The sale is legendary here in the pacific northwest and some of the items go quickly. We visited one of the stores in the morning with a couple of my novelist’s closest pack members. They gave us boxes of treats and water bottles and scratch cards for future discounts and lovely little canvas bags to put everything in. My novelist raved about all of it, especially the bag. She adored the bag. After perusing all the marvelous fall fashions, we had lunch at Nordstrom Grill. I must strongly suggest the French Onion Soup and the Lobster Bisque if you get a chance to visit. I enjoyed the baked bread. It was scrumptious. I was concerned my paws might start barking after all the perusing and trying on clothes and ogling baubles. But there are many very comfortable places to sit at the store, and I curled up on a couch outside the fitting rooms while my novelist and her pack tried on skirts and sweaters. Anyway, things are returning to normal, and I do not need to hide under the bed until next summer. And with that thought here is chapter thirty-four of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Enjoy!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Thirty-Four

Curtis screamed and stumbled backwards. There was nothing there to stop him and he fell on his flanks, kicking and trying to scramble to his feet. He pointed the flashlight back at the chair to find a life-size black bear lounging in it. His ears strained to hear the creature breathe. Silence. Curtis rose slowly to his feet and aimed the flashlight at the bear. He leaned forwards as he moved closer, his left arm stretched out for balance. Clearly this was an extraordinary and far too realistic full-size reproduction of the terrifying animal. He had been right about the leg of the beast draping over the arm of the chair. The bear wore an elaborate dress with sequins that caught the light. On its head was a tiara with glittering rhinestones.

Curtis searched his memory to see if he recalled his aunt owning this oversized piece of art. He decided it must be something she’d recently acquired as he could not recall it and he was certain he would have recalled it. There was a flicker to the left side of the chair and then a tiffany lamp with blue stained glass illuminated a dim glow.

He thought he heard something behind him and then someone grabbed his arm. He felt a silky fabric encircle his wrist and tighten securing a knot. The strange sensation of a feather moved slowly up the inside of his arm causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. He stood still trying to assess what was happening to him.

He felt a grip on his other wrist and then more silky material securing in place. A gentle weight on his right shoulder pressed him down to the floor. He sat with his hands tied behind him. Something slid slowly over his head. A mask of some sort. Then he was gazing out of two holes. He felt some sort of sash being tied at the back of his skull.

Slow strange music began to play. Cello, xylophone, maybe a piano. No drums. No driving beat. Just a melodic airy tune. The bear picked up the leg it had draped over the chair and crossed it over the other leg. Curtis thought he could see Fia at the side of the chair moving it. He leaned in and watched carefully.

The bear slowly tilted to the right, resting its head on its left paw. Curtis noticed something catch the light near the lamp. Soap bubbles began floating through the air. He seemed to remember his aunt having a bubble machine when he was very young and first started visiting her.

He felt Fia move behind him again. He waited anxiously to find out what would happen next. The back of his neck tingled as she untied the mask, and it slipped down over his face. The giant bear still stared at him from its lackadaisical position. Suddenly, a knit material slipped over his face, and everything went black. He heard the movement of feet scurry away. His jagged breath was all he heard. Then a rattling sound of something metal caused his ears to perk. Fia’s arm linked under his and he scrambled to his feet and stumbled across the floor.

Fia stopped and picked up his right pant leg and lifted it over something and set his foot down. Then she did the same with his left. She led him a couple more steps then stopped. He felt her unlock her arm from his and he stood waiting. He heard her move away behind him, then returned and set something on the floor. Then she moved away again and swept back past him. As she did, he felt something soft brush past his arm. The life-size bear perhaps? She rushed past him again, then he heard a metallic clank and then silence. Curtis perked his ears. Nothing.

Several minutes slipped by. Maybe even fifteen. He began to panic. “Fia?” he called out. No answer. “Fia?”

He took a cautious step forward then another. The toe of his shoe hit something. Metal jangled as if he’d kicked a chain length fence. He took a cautious step forward then another…the toe of his shoe hit something, and metal jangled as if he’d kicked a chain length fence. He moved over a little and kicked a second time and again struck a metal structure. A horrible feeling surged through him. He fought with the silk ties on his wrists to no avail. He turned and tried to judge the metal barrier in front of him. He moved along it and it appeared to curve.

He stepped into the barrier and leaned his head against it. He rubbed his head against the surface working the knitted item off his head. After a few minutes of maneuvering, he managed to work what turned out to be a winter tunic off his head. His eyes focused and examined his trap. A large bird cage, he surmised. Some sort of oversized art piece Aunt Odette must have acquired at some point, he surmised.

“Fia!” he called. He looked towards the attic door where light was flooding in from the hall. It was clear to him she had escaped.

MY BOOKS

STREAM OF THE WEEK: THE AUTOMAT (2021)-HBO MAX

This week’s pick is a fantastic historical documentary about an eatery chain called The Automat. The documentary does a fine seamless job of interviewing different well-known patrons of the establishment such as Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, and Ruth Bader Ginsberg and historians and former workers of the company including Norris Horn the great nephew of one of the founders of the famed restaurant while interspersing photos both inside and outside of the different restaurant’s locations. If you are not familiar with The Automat in New York City also known as Horn + Hardart in Philadelphia, it was an ingenious restaurant where you could purchase food by putting nickels into slots which allowed you to open a brass framed glass door and select an item such as a slice of pie, creamed spinach, potatoes, an entrée, etc. You could even purchase a cup of French press coffee. The concept was so brilliant that Howard Shultz, founder of Starbucks borrowed some of their elements to create his famous coffee chain. The idea was anyone could come into this elegant cafeteria and have a meal. It is not fast food but rather superb food fast.

This is an entertaining piece of filmmaking well-written by Michael Levine and well-directed by Lisa Hurwitz. Kudos also to Russell Green and Michael Levine for their outstanding editing work. The Automat is an absolute joy to watch. And a bit of an anomaly amongst some of the other types of documentaries out there. I highly recommend it.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Thirty-One

June 20, 2024 ~ 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

**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 Thirty

June 13, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter thirty of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. This week I have been dealing with insomnia. I love the longer days we get this time of year, but I find it difficult to sleep past 5 AM. I will wake up from a pleasant slumber to find the morning sun shining in my face and I simply must rise. I of course make my novelist rise with me so she will not miss the beauty of the morning. This seems to raise her ire, but if I cannot sleep well then neither can she. Bernard D. Bunny is usually up also, partaking of his morning breakfast. I prefer to use grass for medicinal purposes but to each his own. My novelist has a pot with a strawberry plant which she purchased a year ago in spring. I was delighted to find it is bearing fruit again this year. I have told Bernard the strawberries are specifically for my novelist and me and he seems to be okay with that. I have, however, noticed Sergio Z. Squirrel eyeing them. Squirrels can be a bit wily as you know. I do think he will stick to his usual nuts especially since I have given him that “I will chase you” look. That seems to put him in his place. Ah, the glory of the oncoming summer. And with that thought here is chapter thirty of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Profitez du soleil!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Thirty

Curtis watched his dad park his silver Honda CR-V LX in the driveway. Aunt Odette’s paintings lay tilted against the bench of the breakfast nook fully packed and ready to go. Mr. Cook locked the car, strode up to the porch, and rang the bell. Curtis rose from the bench reminding himself to remain calm and act normally.

“Hi, dad,” Curtis said when he opened the door.

“How are you doing, son,” his dad said and gave Curtis a pat on the back.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

“Oh, no, no. I already had two cups this morning.”

“I collected the paintings from the cabin,” Curtis said moving over to the breakfast nook and pointing.

“Thanks, son. But we’re still going to have to drive out to the cabin.”

“Why?”

“I was chatting with your aunt on the phone yesterday and we got to talking about this and that and there was something she wanted me to have.”

“I thought the whole point was for me to drive out to the cabin and get the paintings for you.”

“Initially, but now I need to go to the cabin.”

Curtis’s stomach tightened. “Let’s get the paintings into your car,” he said and headed towards the breakfast nook.

“Don’t you want to go to Deep League and get some lunch?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Let’s go.”

Mr. Cook parked his Honda CR-VLX in the back parking lot of Deep League. Curtis followed his dad to the front of the building where they headed inside and grabbed a table. He looked out the window thinking he was trapped in a fishbowl. The buxom bartender with the size too small t-shirt sauntered over to them and set down two laminated menus.

“Can I get you boys something to drink?” she asked in a whiskey voice.

“I would like a Coke,” Mr. Cook said.

“I’ll have green tea,” Curtis said.

“We only have black tea,” the bartender said.

“Black tea then. Lots of cream, lots of sugar.”

“You’ve got it. Be right back with your drinks.”

The bar tender left, and Curtis’s dad said, “So, you’ve been busy.”

“Well, it’s Tax Season, so…”

“More clients this year?”

“A few, but most of them are our core clientele.”

“Do you still like working there?”

“I’d like to get a job in the city.”

“So, you don’t like working there. Say, I didn’t see Haven today.”

Curtis sighed and traced the table with his finger. “Haven died.”

Shock spread across Mr. Cook’s face. “What?”

“She ran out of the house while I was at work and got hit by a delivery truck.”

“Oh, Curt, I’m so sorry. I know you loved that dog.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Don’t let it get to you. We all make mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“Like leaving the gate open…”

“I didn’t leave the gate open, nor the window, nor the door. Thieves broke into my apartment and tried to steal Haven.”

“You were robbed?”

“Yes.”

“I thought this was a safe small-town.”

“It is a safe small-town. But even safe small towns can have sadistic people residing in them.”

“Did they take anything?”

“They killed Haven.”

“Next week we’re going to find you a new dog.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“The point is you need to move on, son. When you were a kid, you’d get too attached to…”

“Here we go,” the bartender said returning. She set down Mr. Cook’s fizzy Coke and Curtis’s black tea along with a monkey dish of creamers and a container of sugar and sweetener packets. “Are you boys ready to order?”

“Curt?” Mr. Cook said. “You ready?”

“I’ll have a burger and fries,” Curtis said.

“I’ll have the same.”

“Sounds good,” the bartender said as she took the menus from them. “I’ll go get those started for you.”

As she headed back to the kitchen the main door opened and in moseyed Sheriff Bob and Deputy Gunther. They ambled over to the bar and Sheriff Bob leaned into the counter. He folded his hands and looked into the large mirror with the letters SRB, a local microbrew company, emblazoned across a mountain range. Curits put one hand up to shield his face and turned his head slightly to the side. The Sheriff’s reflection seemed to be looking directly at him. His heart pounded as the spiky blonde-haired deputy leaned his back into the bar and scanned the room.

“You suppose those two policemen get free beer when they come in here?” Mr. Cook asked.

“I don’t think officers are supposed to drink while they’re on duty,” Curtis said.

“Maybe they get free sandwiches,” Mr. Cook said and focused his attention on the ballgame playing on the flatscreen television behind Curtis.

The front door opened and a tall athletic-looking guy with a baseball cap on his head moseyed over to a table near the bar. He sat down, pulled the basket of peanuts near him, reached in and started shelling the legumes and popping them in his mouth. The deputy turned his head in the direction of the guy. He pushed off the bar, walked over, pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the athletic guy’s table and took a seat. As Curtis watched them talk, he started to think the athletic guy looked familiar.

Just then the bartender set a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of mustard down on the Cooks’ table causing Curtis to jump.

“Your guys’ burgers should be up in a minute,” she said.

“Sounds great,” Mr. Cook replied.

“I’ll bring some extra napkins.”

The bartender returned to the bar and leaned into Sherrif Bob like they were old friends. Suddenly, the sheriff straightened up. He put one hand on his hip leaving the other flat on the bar.

Curtis noticed the deputy was taking notes. He suspected he may be asking the tall guy with the baseball cap questions about Fia.

“Homerun!” Curtis’s father shouted causing Curtis to jump and blanch white.

The sheriff turned his attention in their direction. Then he looked up at one of the other televisions and saw the hitter rounding the bases. Curtis stole another glance at the table with the deputy and the tall guy. Suddenly, it struck him. The tall guy was the clerk who’d helped Fia and him at the sports store at the mall.

“Two hamburgers with fries,” the bartender said and set down Mr. Cooks plate and then Curtis’s. “Anything else I can get you guys?”

“No, this is great,” Mr. Cook said.

“I’ll come back in a little bit and check on you,” she said and left.

“This looks delicious,” Mr. Cook said. “Doesn’t it, Curtis?”

“I need to get something from the car,” Curtis said.

“Can’t it wait? We just got our food.”

“No,” he said and stood up keeping his back to the table with the deputy and the guy from the mall. He cautiously and nonchalantly headed towards the door and left.

MY BOOKS

**STREAM OF THE WEEK: OH, GOD! (1977)-TUBI**

Here is another great gem of a movie streaming on Tubi. Directed by Carl Reiner and starring the ever-droll George Burns, this smart, charming, thoughtful little tale asks the question what if God came down to earth and anointed someone to be His messenger in the modern world? Based on the book by Avery Corman who also wrote Kramer vs. Kramer, the movie is surprisingly funny and philosophical with a marvelously serendipitous first-time performance by John Denver.

Jerry Landers (John Denver) is your average young family man. He works as an assistant manager at a grocery store in Burbank, California. He is great with the customers and his staff. He is also an atheist. One day when his wife Bobbie Landers (Teri Garr) hands him the mail in bed, Jerry finds he has a letter with no stamp and no return address which simply says, “God grants you an interveiw. Go to 600 Madison Ave., room 2700, Monday, at 11 a.m.” And yes, the word interview is spelled incorrectly. Both Jerry and Bobbie think it’s a gag and likely a stunt pulled by their mutual friend Artie Coogan. Except Artie is an English teacher and wouldn’t misspell the word interview. Jerry wads up the letter and tosses it in the wastebasket by the bed. He wakes up in the middle of the night to find the letter unwrinkled and lying on his pillow. Confused, he tears it up and tosses it back in the wastebasket.

The next day Jerry goes to work to meet with the district produce manager Mr. McCarthy (David Ogden Stiers) only to find the letter untorn and folded neatly in a head of romaine. At that point, Jerry decides to take the interview. When he reaches the 27^th floor of 600 Madison Ave. and enters room 2700 he finds the place completely white with a white chair and a white table. And that’s when he hears the voice of God (George Burns) coming over a white intercom. God tells Jerry he’s chosen him to tell people he exists and to spread the word.

Larry Gelbart was rightly nominated for an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay for this marvelous gem which also stars Ralph Bellamy, Donald Pleasance, Barnard Hughes, and Paul Sorvino who’s deliciously evil as Reverand Willie Williams.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-Seven

May 23, 2024 ~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. It is I Gigi the parti poodle here to introduce chapter twenty-seven of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Yesterday my novelist got a couple of inoculations and is not her usual self today. I spoke with Bernard D. Bunny Wednesday, and he said he was sure my novelist would be down for the count. I said preposterous, my novelist can take a shot as well as the next human. But sadly, I am eating my words because Bernard has risen triumphant with his analysis. My novelist is not sick per say but she is unusually tired and worn out. She also pulled a muscle in her neck exercising and that makes her even more testy. And so, she is having me post both my story and her movie pic this week. I had to switch out her mouse for mine. She likes to use this large domed Microsoft mouse and I prefer the small purple travel one. Much easier for small paws. And as you can see, I was able to make it happen. Hoorah for me. After I finish, I am going to fix my novelist a nice hot cup of tea and invite Bernard out to lunch. I will have to make him a nice salad with the leftover iceberg as he is a vegetarian and all. Anyway, here is chapter twenty-seven of Certified Sadistic Accountant. Enjoy!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Curtis checked his reflection in the vanity visor mirror. He put on the pair of his Aunt Odette’s glasses he’d grabbed before locking Fia in the attic. They were large thick rounded plastic aviator frames from the 70’s. They made the world blurry, but they also distorted his face enough to make whatever surveillance system they had in there recognize him.

He flipped the visor up, put on his leather gloves, grabbed the manilla envelope with the ransom note in it, got out of his Honda, and headed for the trading post.

The place reminded him of the bank from Dog Day Afternoon. There were two people ahead of him. He glanced at the distorted looking wall clock. Twelve-thirty in the afternoon. The lady at the front was trying to mail a package, but she didn’t have what she wanted packaged. The clerk was trying to help her pick out a properly sized box. Curtis marveled at how people with such minimal skills functioned in this world. The man behind her seemed remarkably patient but Curtis could tell he was starting to get annoyed. The woman was sweet enough. She just had too much air running between her ears.

Suddenly, Curtis noticed a small caramel and white kitten peek its head out of the enormous quilted calico bag the woman had slung over her shoulder. It looked at Curtis and hissed. Curtis furrowed his brow. First the delivery girl from the bakery and now this little furball. No one liked him.

“CeCe,” the woman said to the kitten, “behave.”

The clerk rang up the woman’s sale and handed her a slip.

“Thank you very much,” she told him. Then she turned around and looked at the man behind her. “And thank you for being so patient.”

“Certainly,” the man said.

The woman looked at Curtis as if she were about to say the same thing and got a strange look on her face and turned to leave. The kitten peeked its head out of the bag and hissed at Curtis again.

The man in front of Curtis stepped up to the desk and set what appeared to be a very heavy package about the size of two bricks stacked on top of each other down on the counter. “I need it there by tomorrow.”

The clerk weighed the package. “That’ll be three hundred eighty-five dollars and sixty-seven cents.”

“Jiminy Crickets!” the man said. “That’s highway robbery!”

“Do you need it there tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s what it costs when it absolutely, positively has to be there overnight.”

“Listen wiseass, I could buy my wife a new engagement ring for that price!”

“I sincerely doubt it, sir.”

“Three hundred eighty-five dollars and sixty-seven cents is highway robbery!”

“But that’s what it costs.”

“I’m going to the post office. This place is a rip-off!”

Curtis watched the man storm out with his heavy package. He stepped up to the counter and set the manilla envelope with the ransom note down. The clerk weighed it on the scale.

“That’ll be twenty-nine dollars and sixty-seven cents.”

Curtis nodded, took out his billfold and slapped two twenties on the counter.

“I’m sorry, sir. Do you have something smaller? I’m running out of ones.”

Curtis pulled a ten dollar bill out of his wallet, set it on the counter, picked up one of the twenties and put it back in his billfold.

“Thanks. Sorry about that.”

Curtis nodded. He did not want to say anything or look up for fear the surveillance system could pick up his face or voice.

“Here’s your change.”

Curtis took the change off the counter, gave the guy a quick boy scout solute, and headed out the door.

Curtis returned to his aunt’s cabin just after two o’clock in the afternoon. He headed upstairs to the attic and knocked on the door. “Fia,” he called knocking on the attic door, “Would you like to come downstairs?”

“Sure,” she said.

Curtis opened the door. He saw she was in the middle of rehearsal. “Would you like some lemonade?”

“I can’t drink lemonade.”

“Are you allergic to that too?”

She smiled. “No. I’m just yanking your chain.”

Curtis shook his head. “Come on downstairs. I’ll go ahead and make it.”

“My dad’s coming to my place on Wednesday to pick up my aunt’s paintings,” Curtis said as he sat in the bookshelf chair in the living room.

“The ones you had me help you with?” Fia asked, taking a sip of lemonade.

“Yes.

Fia nodded. She wanted to leave on Friday to get back in time for spring quarter. And she just plain needed to leave.

“Thank you for curling my hair today.”

“Of course.”

“I am aware this situation I’ve put you in is harrowing. And you have surprised me with your kindness. I am not used to people being kind to me.”

“You’re not hard to be kind to, Curtis. You might just need some time to work through your grief.”

“Maybe. But first I must take care of business.”

“What business?”

“The business of settling the score.”

“You mean revenge.”

“Revenge is a dirty word.”

“So is business.”

“I loved Haven and Lance and Makenna, and those other two bastards killed her. Do you have the slightest idea what its like to lose the one thing in this world that makes you happy?”

“No. I guess I’m lucky. All that ever happened to me was I got kidnapped.”

“Getting kidnapped isn’t all that bad. I have cooked for you, given you a comfortable room to sleep in, and let you work on your performance art in the attic. It’s been a better spring break option than what your father set up for you.”

“I wanted to be his receptionist for a week. The point was to take a break from school.”

“So, you’re unhappy here.”

“Except for being pinned to the ground when I tried to leave it hasn’t been terrible. But you can’t keep me caged here. Putting stress on my mom and dad like this isn’t fair.”

“Your mother yes, your father no.”

“And you’re stressing me out too.”

“I don’t like doing this any more than you like having it done to you. But if I let them get away with this without retribution they will never stop.”

“Retribution is just another name for revenge, Curtis. It leads you nowhere. Except you ending up losing your job, your license, and your life as you know it.”

“I think you need to go back upstairs now,” he said rising from his chair.

“Right. Because if someone disagrees with you, you lock them in an attic.”

“If possible, yes.”

“Curtis, think,” she said standing up and staring him in the eye. “If you let me leave right now, you get off scot-free with no one the wiser.”

“What are you going to tell your parents? The police?”

“I’ll tell them I went off to spend time with friends.”

“They’ll never believe you.”

“Yes, they will. It’s a perfectly plausible answer.”

“No, it isn’t. You’re too responsible. I was at work when your father came into the office the morning after I delivered the first ransom note. He was certain someone had abducted you. And he did everything a reasonable father would do to get you back.”

“I’m giving you a way out of this. Let me go now before it spirals out of control. I’ll tell them my friends sent the ransom notes as a joke. A sick joke, but a joke. All you need to do is move on.”

MY BOOKS

**STREAM OF THE WEEK: THE SEARCHERS (1956)-HBO MAX**

Although it’s great to pick a newer film or show for my Stream of the Week, I like to feature a classic occasionally because I find there are movie enthusiasts out there who may not have some of these films.

One of the greatest westerns ever made, the legendary John Ford’s epic masterpiece is not a typical western story. And its subject matter is not for the faint of heart. It’s ugly and relentless and shows ruthlessness on both the side of the settlers and the side of the Native Americans.

Based on the book The Searchers by Alan LeMay it is the story of Civil War veteran Ethan Edwards who comes home after eight years to see his brother Arron Edwards (Walter Croy) and his brother’s family: wife Martha (Dorothy Jordan), oldest daughter Lucy (Pippa Scott), young son Ben (Robert Lyden) and youngest daughter, eight-year-old Debbie (Lana Woods). Ethan has a large collection of gold coins for which he gives no explanation as to how he acquired them. Ethan finds out his brother has adopted a young man named Martin Pawley (Jeffery Hunter) who is one-eighth Cherokee which does not go over well with Ethan.

Not long after Ethan’s arrival Arron’s neighbor Lars Jorgensen (John Qualen) finds his cattle stolen. Under the leadership of Rev. Captain Samuel Clayton (Ward Bond) Ethan, Martin, and a group of Rangers head out to find what happened only to realize they have been tricked by the Comanche tribe who has led them astray so they can carry out a murderous attack. Ethan and Martin return to Arron’s home to find Arron and young Ben killed and scalped and Martha raped, murdered, and scalped. But the two girls Lucy and Debbie are missing sending Ethan, Martin, and Lucy’s fiancé Brad (Harry Carry Jr.) on a long and brutal Odessey to find them and bring them home. A teenage Natalie Wood rounds out the cast.

Some critics have suggested perhaps Ethan and his brother’s wife Martha may have had an affair and Ethan having been gone eight years and Debbie being eight may explain why Ethan left originally and why he searches so tenaciously for Debbie.

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Twenty-Six

May 16, 2024 ~ 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:

American Beauty by Thomas Newman
Drive by Cliff Martinez. This one is still in print.
Fire Walk With Me by Angelo Baldalamenti. This one is still in print.
Memories of Murder by Taro Iwashiro
Rocky by Bill Conti. This one is still in print.
Rounders by Christopher Young
Secretary by Angelo Baldalamenti.
Sex, Lies and Videotape by Cliff Martinez
Sideways by Rolfe Kent
Taxi Driver by Bernard Herman. This one is still in print.
The Game by Howard Shore
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

**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.