Tag: writing

Certified Sadidstic Accountant Chapter Twenty

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

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Twenty

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

“Did you tell them about the ransom note?”

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

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

“In the hands of criminals.”

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

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

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

“My poor Fia. My poor dear Fia.”

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

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

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

“What?” Makenna said shocked.

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

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

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

“The whole thing seems implausible,” Grady said.

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. Dupree trudged upstairs to his office.

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

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

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

“I’ll ask Mr. Dupree,” Curtis said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a good man, Cook.”

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

“I’ll do it.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll handle the desk.”

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

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

“Okay, Mr. Dupree.”

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

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

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

“Seriously not liking this at all.”

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

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

All the accountants leaned in to eavesdrop.  

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

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

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: DREAM SCENARIO (2023)–HBO MAX

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

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

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

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

Tucker: In Memoriam

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What can you say about a thirteen-year-old Maltese who died?

That he was beautiful. And quiet. That he loved going for walks. And suppertime. And my novelist. And me. One time when I was feeling particularly generous, I let him snuggle up on the chair I happened to be sharing with my novelist. I even let him lie to the left side of her whilst I, of course, lay on her lap. I am normally quite stingy when it comes to these things. But in retrospect I wish I had let him lie next to her more.  

On Saturday, the day Tucker passed away, my novelist could not stop crying. She was stronger on Sunday but on Monday I heard her sniffling and trying to hold back tears. Every so often she would look over at the chair he used to lie in, and a deep sadness would fill her eyes. She has his collar properly buckled and sitting near the door. Perhaps with the hope he will someday come home.

I too am adjusting to the loss of my companion. I found myself checking his empty bed and a couple of nights ago I ran over and barked at the beanbag chair hoping he might hop down and romp around with me. And then I realized he wasn’t there. I even checked under my novelist’s bed where he liked to hide, but my efforts were in vain.

Tucker was a rescue dog. His original owner was an elderly lady who passed away when he was three years old. My novelist had owned a chihuahua poodle mix who’d died in surgery several months prior. The woman who was fostering Tucker was my novelist’s groomer. The groomer agreed to part with Tucker and my novelist paid her and gave Tucker a home.

It took Tucker some time to adjust to living with my novelist. He did not know how to be carried at first. His elderly owner must not have picked him up much. My novelist tells me when she first started carrying him, he would lose balance and tilt in awkward ways. But after a while he got used to it. I dare say he enjoyed it. He was a Maltese and a lapdog after all. He loved curling up in her lap which I could not stand because I always wanted to curl up in her lap. Sometimes I just had to accept I needed to share. And I hate to share. I think for a long time Tucker missed his original owner. My novelist tells me it is very hard on a dog to lose their owner. What he went through was traumatic, she told me, and there was a small room inside his heart where he always kept her.

My novelist procured me from the same groomer. I was the groomer’s poodle’s puppy. My twin brother had already been sold and I was still for sale. I am a parti poodle, but my brother had pure black hair. My novelist purchased me, but I couldn’t go home with her at first. My brother and I were too young to leave our mother yet. And so, my novelist had to wait about a month before she brought me home to live with Tucker. Tucker was displeased with me the moment he saw me. But after a while he came to understand it was my abode and he was merely allowed to live there. My novelist disagreed with my philosophy and often scolded me or gave me a time-out when she thought I’d crossed a line. But it was only because she loved Tucker and wanted to protect him and keep him safe.

Some of the good times I remember included Tucker and I going on road trips with my novelist. We got to stay in some lovely Airbnb places together by the beach. There was one in a rather remote and quiet area which was quite wonderful. It was cavernous and my voice echoed magnificently throughout the house. We both enjoyed the sea air and exploring new places.

Tucker’s decline came upon us slowly. He started to bump into things and my novelist said his eyesight must be going. Others were skeptical but it turned out she was right. His eyesight indeed left him, and he was blind for the last portion of his life. Last year the vet noticed he had a heart murmur. I thought of his first owner. Perhaps she is the reason his heart started murmuring. The weight of the loss had finally broken him. 

Tucker died in my novelist’s lap. He just fell asleep and never woke up again. My novelist went out to the car a little later. She says she saw a small white butterfly flit around the passenger side window. Perhaps that was his way of saying goodbye.

Our home is much quieter now. I used to start barking and that would get Tucker barking, but I don’t feel the urge to bark much these days. A little here and there usually when UPS drives by. But not as much as I did. I go about my daily routine. I go for walks. I lie around the house. Mostly I just feel a little sad. I know things will get better with time and I know he will never be forgotten. I feel sorry about the way I treated him sometimes. But I guess there is something to be said about love meaning never having to say you’re sorry. And he loved me. And I loved him.

-Gigi the parti poodle

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Eighteen

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

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Eighteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else was in the yard?”

“The fence had paintings on it.”

“She hung paintings on her fence?”

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

“Did you play outside in the yard much?’

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

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

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

“A reason? What reason?”

“The reason is none of your business.”

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

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

“What’s the next step?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair enough.”

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

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

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

“I have to make sure you don’t bolt.”

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

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

“Fine.”

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

“I’m ready,” she called.

MY BOOKS

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

STREAM OF THE WEEK: PAST LIVES (2023)-SHOWTIME

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

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

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

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

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Seven

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

Good afternoon. Normally Gigi would be introducing the blog but this week I am. I am the one known as Him. And I want to give you my side of the story. These dogs are a pain in the neck. Spoiled to a fault. I mean they whine when they want to go outside, they whine when they want a treat, they whine when it’s suppertime and they whine when they want to sit on your lap. And then when one sits in your lap the other one either protests or starts a fight. They get me up at six in the morning. Sometimes five. Maybe if I were a farmer that would be acceptable. But I’m no farmer and this is insane. I don’t know how Gigi’s novelist puts up with these two. I’m about ready to trade them in on a mutt. There are some seriously nice dogs in the pound who would love a home and would be better behaved. Maybe I should box these two up and make a trade.

Are you talking to my audience?

Yes, I’m talking to your audience, Gigi. And I’m telling them what a pain in the neck you are.

That is most rude.

Yeah, I don’t think so.

And why aren’t you wrapping my Christmas gifts.

Your Christmas gifts? You’re on the naughty list, poodle. You’re not getting any Christmas gifts.

I am not on the naughty list. Santa sent me a letter saying so.

Santa sent you a letter. Right.

I have it right here. Allow me to read it: “Dear Gigi, you are no longer on the naughty list. You will be getting lots of presents this year. Sincerely, Santa Claus”. See. Now go wrap my gifts.

Why should I wrap you gifts if Santa Claus is going to deliver them to you?

Because…

I am Tucker and I am a Maltese. I am now going to bark the song Jingle Bells.

What? Not again! You dogs suck!

Listen to Him. Do not bark that stupid…

I just wanted to wish your audience Happy Holidays., Gigi

I…well…okay.

Maybe we should all wish your audience Happy Holidays.

Okay. Fine. Him, what do you think?

Sure, why not.

Okay one the count of three. One, two, three!

Happy Holidays!

And now here is Chapter Seven of my story Certified Sadistic Accountant. Joyeux Noël!

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Seven

On Wednesday afternoon at exactly 12:15 PM, Makenna and Lance pulled up along the sidewalk of the street where Curtis’s duplex resided.

“Have you got your ski mask?” Makenna asked.

“Right here,” Lance said waving it around.

Makenna scowled. “Don’t be an idiot. Stick it in your hoodie pocket and don’t take it out until I say so.”

“Yeah, alright, okay, whatever.”

“It’s stupidity like this that makes me not want you tagging along.”

“I put the ski mask away, okay? Get a grip. Sheesh.”

“We’re going to follow the plan exactly as we planned it. Otherwise, we’re going to get caught. And I don’t want to get caught. Just like I don’t want to get caught cheating on my taxes.”

“You cheat on your taxes?”

“I just…I don’t want to get caught.”

“Alright, already. We’ll follow the plan exactly as we planned it.”

“Now let’s put our hoods up and get out of the car.” Makenna and Lance disembarked Makenna’s BMW and headed quietly up the street towards Curtis’s duplex. “Keep your hood up and your head down. The place likely has some sort of surveillance system.”

“I guessed Cook the Books probably had one.”

“More likely the landlord had something installed. You’ve got Grady’s dog crate, right?”

“I thought you were bringing it.”

“No, we agreed on this. You would bring the dog crate and I would put the dog in it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Makenna threw up her hands. “Let’s go back to the car and get the crate. We’re losing time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This is the second reason I didn’t want you involved with this part of the plan.”

“You can’t do this kidnapping alone, Makenna.”

“Yes, I can. And don’t use my name. Who knows what kind of audio recording is listening to us around here.”

“You are so paranoid.”

“Only because you tagged along. If you didn’t, I’d have the dog in the car and be on my way to the safe house by now.”

They arrived at the car and Makenna popped the trunk. Lance reached in and grabbed the handle of Grady’s dog carrier. They adjusted their hoods and headed on route to Curtis’s duplex. Makenna motioned for Lance to head around to the back yard. Lance circled right, and she circled left. They met in the backyard which had a simple patch of green lawn and was surrounded by a wooden fence with a gate which they both entered. Makenna snuck up to the back door and took a few small thin metal tools out of her pocket and began to work the latch on the door.

“Can you actually open that?” Lance asked. Makenna glared at him and continued picking the lock. There was a click and Makenna turned the knob. They entered Curtis’s duplex and looked around. “Where do you think the surveillance camera is?”

Makenna scanned the apartment. She glanced up and thought she saw a camera in the upper right corner where the kitchen and living room met. “Up there,” she said.

Lance reached into his hoodie and produced a can of spray paint. “This ought to do the trick,” he thought, popped open the can and sprayed the lens.

“What are you doing?” Makenna snapped.

“I’m making sure the camera doesn’t incriminate us.”

“Don’t! Just…never mind.” She looked over and saw the bedroom door was cracked open. “I’ll bet the little furball is in there.”

“Ah,” Lance said and slid over to her. Makenna put her finger to her lips and gently pushed open the door. Inside they saw the small Yorkie, alert and sitting up on Curtis’s bed watching them. “You’re a cutie.”

“Shut up,” Makenna hissed. “You’re going to startle it.”

Haven yipped.

“Shh,” Lance said to Haven. Haven yipped again.

“Get out of here,” Makenna told Lance and pointed to the door.

“But…”

“Get out of this room.”

Haven yipped relentlessly. Makenna crept over to the side of the bed and sat down. She slowly extended her hand towards Haven. Haven cowered backwards into the pillows her bright green hair bow twitching slightly as she went.

Makenna reached into her pocket and produced a small Ziplock bag. She unzipped it, took out a treat, and held it out for Haven. “Come here, sweetie. I’ve got a goodie for you.” Haven cautiously crept closer, craned her neck forwards, and sniffed the treat. As she did Makenna leaned in closer. Haven did not like this and hopped back.

“Come on, sweetie.”

Haven remained cautious and did not move. Makenna narrowed her eyes and scooted closer. “Come on. Take the treat.”

Haven looked at the treat then at Makenna. She wagged her tail. Makenna leaned in closer. Then closer. Suddenly, Haven flew off the bed and took off for the door.

“Rotten little mutt!” Makenna yelled.

Lance, who had left the front door cracked open, didn’t see the little dog scurry past him and wiggle through the breach until it was too late. “Uh, oh,” he muttered warily.

Makenna burst out of the bedroom like a frenzied ferret. “Get that thing, you idiot!”

Lance lurched for the front door and burst outside to find Haven sitting on the grass looking at them wagging her tail and panting.

“Come to daddy,” Lance said as he took a slow step towards the dog. “Come on…come to daddy…”

The second Lance was in arms reach, Haven turned and ran. Now on a normal day there would be no traffic on the street in front of Curtis’s duplex. Today, however, one of the neighbors was having flowers delivered. When Haven took off, she bolted towards the oncoming delivery truck.

Makenna heard the engine rumbling down the street. “No!” she yelled as she ran towards the sidewalk. “Stop!”

The truck’s tires screeched to a halt.

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: METROPOLITAN (1990)-HBO MAX

Here is a Christmas movie many of you have probably not seen. Before the television shows Gossip Girl and Gossip Girl there was this more sophisticated and smarter film which contains a lot less soap factor and a lot more wit. Featuring a young and at that time mostly unknown cast (for many of them it was their first major motion picture) the story is set in Manhattan during the holiday season which is also what is known as the Deb (debutante) Season where the young wealthy teenage elite meander through a course of various parties dressed in haute couture dresses and black and white tie tuxedos. The more interesting time they spend together is the downtime after the parties than the parties themselves. The kids who are required to pair off and escort each other to these shindigs often end up gathering in one of the parent’s swanky townhouses late at night sitting about and discussing, or at least attempting to discuss cultural and philosophical ideologies. Or at least as best as teenagers can do in their own microcosm of a world. The film has a bit of a different flavor from the John Hughes films of that time, but it is still amusing, engaging, and interesting to watch. 

The film was written and directed by Whit Stillman, and it is an impressive feature debut. It remains a charming, cultured comedy for those out there who would like to try something different from the usual holiday fare. The cast includes Carolyn Farina, Edward Clements, Chris Eigeman, Taylor Nichols, Allison Parisi, Dylan Hundley, Isabel Gillies, Ellia Thompson, Dylan Hundley, and Will Kempe.  

Certified Sadistic Accountant Chapter Five

~ gigicatchesair ~ Leave a comment

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

Certified Sadistic Accountant

by

Gigi the parti poodle

Chapter Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it. We’ll kidnap his dog.”

“Whoa,” Grady said. “That’s illegal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have a dog?”

“I have an iguana.”

“Whoa. That’s cool.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t bungle the job.”

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

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

“Really?” Irwin said.

“Really.”

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

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

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

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

“How about Wednesday?”

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

MY BOOKS

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

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

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

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

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