Sunday, February 08, 2009

My Life As Norman Whiskers: Uses For Hell Hound

"Note to self: Don't sleep on the attic staircase." This is my last thought as I am yanked through the ceiling hatch by the scruff of my neck, as if I were a naughty kitten. I'm not, and the muscular jaw that pulls me up to this dusty floor does not belong to one of my parents.

It's that strange specter cat a-gain.

"Eyes don like youse so much, but Princez cat sayz ur okay. So Eyes will give some pointerz about controlingz the dog to ur liking."

I lean back into the wall as Mr. Butcher speaks, since I do not enjoy specter breath hitting my nose. I nod and begin thanking the old boy, but he smashes his ghostly paw on my mouth to hush me.

"Whateverz! Now listen ups. Youse have to get realz scary. Do somez obscene gesturz...Lyke dis..."

Mr. Butcher holds up his paw exposing one shiny sharp nail with a quick flick of the wrist. I try my best to emulate him, but he becomes quite frustrated.

"NO ZZZZZ! Ur doin' it wrongz!"

I run for my life, pull open the ceiling hatch with my claw, slide down the stairs all the way to the dining room, where I find Hell Hound asleep on a chair by the window. "I will control the mind of this beast on my own, or my name wasn't once Bernardo Bigotes Grande." I think.

"HELL HOUND! WAKE UP BEAST!" I shout. She twitches an ear muscle ever so slightly and opens one eye.

I wield a full paw of sharp nails and circle her with the grace and flair of that fight scene in West Side Story. "I command you to listen to me!" I growl.

Hell Hound sits up suddenly and leaps upon me, lashing her wet tongue on me in a sneak attack. I jump back into Halloween cat pose, and she backs off.

"What are you doing, fool?!" I say.

"Oh, I am SO happy that PETA has finally sent a commander to recruit me for his army! I am ready to fight for certain animals' rights! Sir,Yes, Cat, Sir!"

"This is too easy." I think, deciding to just go with the PETA thing. "Yes, I am your new master commander-in-chief. Our first mission is to secure some MEATZ from the humans. Are you game, stinky soldier?!"

The dog barks: "Sir, Yes, Cat, Sir!"

I grin, quite satisfied with my cleverness.

"Well, alright soldier, let's MOVE OUT to the kitchen." Can you believe the furry fool follows me in a march?! We win two pieces of turkey flesh from the Milk Man, and in a dark corner, I spot Mr. Butcher, a floating grin minus the body.

Cheerio!
-Norman Whiskers

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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.

Fondly,

Loren Christie

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