Monday, February 02, 2009

My Life as Norman Whiskers: Almost Got My Tail Kicked By a Specter

I have assembled my offering of MEATZ from my little governess' play kitchen. I hope this gift will pacify the transparent beast, since I don't believe he really needs MEATZ to sustain his ghostly state.

My morning is filled with more lessons and drudgery. Today my governess is immersing me in a physical education class. I must balance sparkly Barbie bracelets on my ears, and tail. However, these dexterity tests are really not challenging.

"Little governess,"I whine, "I balanced on a picket fence and pulled half-eaten french fries out of neighborhood trash pails. I serenaded a prospective girlfriend A-Capella on a garden table until I was almost hit with a tennis sneaker, which I successfully dodged. I do not need this class!"

"Silly Mr. Whiskers," my teacher laughs, covering her mouth and shrugging her shoulders in delight. "You do too need to know how to be quick and fast. For an examplify,... what if you are going potty and the Hell Hound jumps in to snatch a smelly snack? You have to get out of her way quickly because her body is VERY big. You will be squished." She explains, quite confidently.

Why does my teacher always have an answer for everything!? She is very wise. Nevertheless, I start thinking of my obligation to the specter cat in the attic, and scurry away from her like so:

"Look, governess, a butterfly!"

"Oh, my, where?!" She exclaims, running off to a nearby window. I hurry up the steps and retrieve the plastic cheeseburger I stashed in a laundry basket in the hallway.

As I pass the upstairs bathroom I spy Princess Leah in the middle of her morning performance of "Memories." She pauses to greet me, but there is no time to stop. I run up the attic steps and just as I reach the ceiling hatch, it opens. A giant, muscular paw grips me and pulls me up into the attic. I hold my breath.

"Where's MEATZ?! Eyes wait many minutes for youse down dare," the specter growls.

I drop the plastic cheeseburger in front of the ghost cat and shut my eyes, tightly.

"BOOM!" I'm hurling through space and I hit the wall.

"Dis not MEATZ sCATterbrainz! Dis iz toyz. NOW YOUSE BE DED LYKE ME!"

I try to negotiate with Mr. Butcher, but he will not listen to reason. He wields his sharp claws ready to shred me.

"STOP!" Shouts an old cracking voice.

I open one eye. It is Princess Leah. Her tail is pointed straight, her hair bristled, as she parades past my poor self and faces the hideous ghost with righteous pomp and circumstance.

"Eyes bout to ded dis cat. Leave me beez old hagz," growls Mr. Butcher.

Princess Leah is unmoved. "Leave him alone, you bully. Our Lady loves him and saved his life just the same as she did for you and me. Remember when you were alive and living outside in the cold rainstorm, she took you into the warm house with wonderful chairs, and made you her Scutch Butcher when NONE of the other humans on this block would have you?"

Mr. Butcher's voice changes into that of a kitten, as he mutters, "Yez, Old Princesz."

"This cat is good, and she loves him. Do not harm him. You must watch over him and exercise TOLERATION. At least he is not that horrid dog, HELL HOUND."

With that, the specter cat retreats into a dark corner of the attic with the plastic cheeseburger. I run down the steps so quickly I do not see what happens to old Princess Leah. I must remember to thank her for this kindness, and find out more from her about this strange, sad specter.

-Norman Whiskers

P.S. I would like to thank Mr. Jim Harrington, a human blogger, for helping me rethink this piece of the story and make it better. His writing site is very helpful, and it has been included in my daily lessons in the computer lab/laundry room. -N. Whiskers


Putz said...

i have a new blogger who has suggested that i write blogs especially for is flech, i am flattered, and a weakness in me tells me to cater to his every whim by as he says into 'IT' what do you suggest as a i write for the general public or get into it with him?????also i would be interested in miss kubler's opion on this also

Loren Christie said...

Mr. Putz,
I think it's okay to write to him once in a while...just get to know him first as well as you can. You don't want to limit your Putz creativity with having only one kind of post. :)

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.


Loren Christie

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