Up late, interlude

Live from Chattanooga, TN, it’s “Up Late with Tiger-do!” Featuring everyone’s favorite spoiled, obnoxious house cat who thinks he’s a night owl, Tiger-do-kitty!

–the writer for the show was fired a day later, as it turns out Tiger-do peed on his shoes an hour before the show went on air.

Air date June 6, 2009, Orange Kirkland Studio Productions Inc.

White Cats, interlude

..When I was young, my grandfather never liked cats. He didn’t mind me having a dog though. But I was more fond of cats. I asked him one day why he felt the way he did.

“…Because dogs keep the mad scientists away,” he said.

..It took a few minutes to get him to explain what he said…

“..When I was young, I thought I could go into the state park at night. I didn’t fear the dark, didn’t know the danger that stalks…

“You’ll never see the white fur which seems to glow in the dark, or the eyes that reflect your flashlight,” he said, “You will hear neither the purring that comes down from his perch, nor smell the ammonia stench of his white lab coat flowing.. You won’t feel the prick of the blow dart or be aware of where you land…

“You won’t recall the taste of dead leaves upon hitting the ground, or see Dr.Winter, the large green eyes, watching and making his plans…

“So don’t find yourself in his laboratory. Be careful when you venture at night. Always be watching the trees. For you don’t know when Dr. Winter is watching. Be careful when you hear the breeze…

“He’s always looking for new test subjects, he watches, waits for the unwary…

“So get a dog, get a dog, grandson, and keep Dr. Winter at bay.”

–from “The White Cat of the Labyrinthine Woods” by Tyger G. Caterwauling, Summer Sunny Squashmare Publishers, Topeka, Kansas 1985.

He’s Eating, interlude!

…He finally eats solid food as of today at 4p.m. He hasn’t eaten anything solid since Saturday. I’m gonna keep hoping he’ll survive beyond this month.

–from “Amazing Veterinary Stories in Feline Culinary Artist Magazine,” January 2018.

Poor Cat, interlude

…Two weeks ago he was fine. Ate like a horse, then wanted outside, then came back on his own. Just like a dog. He even has the same markings as my dog.

Now look at him. He no longer has an appetite but drinks often. Like a fish. Chronic heart failure the vets say. They’ve done all they can.

I’m giving him medicine three times a day and chicken broth with a syringe twice every hour. He just lays there on his pee pad with a towel underneath. He’s a mess.

I’ve taken him outside and he perks up then. He tries to retrace his old haunts, then runs outta steam and lays down. Either he’s out of breath and wheezing or the boughs above are creaking.

He gets back up to the place where I cannot follow, a small opening in the fence, to the neighbors yard, and that’s where I intervene. I carry him back inside to feed him more broth. I can tell he pouts.

–from “The Twilight of Mr. Missouri” available on compact disc and mp3. Ca 2005, Calico-Fluffypants Records, Inc.

Movement of Night Sky

They Live!

Behind the mansion is a path through the Labyrinthine Woods you have not explored. Having survived a barrage of poisoned barbs from Dr. Winter, you and now on a path that continues to get darker. The path here has a sense of brooding. You hear rustling in the trees. You keep moving on the trail but it gets darker further inside the woods.

You hear an owl. Another owl answers the first owl’s call. A third, then a forth answer the first owl’s call. You look up expecting to see all these large birds, but instead it’s as if night has come early. The night sky, in this particular section of forest, has no stars. And the sky moves. Like ripples in a pond. Why does it move?

You now hear hooting sounds in front of you. A piece of the night sky has jumped to the ground. It now moves like the silhouette of a person crouching. Whoever it is is wearing a draped in a giant black beach towel. The figure starts to make monkey noises.

“Oo Oo oo ah ah ah ah ah! oo ah oo ah oo ah!”

Territorial sounds of owls: He says don’t get closer. This is why Dr. Winter did not pursue you into this trail. He knew better. If you go any farther you may be ripped to shreds. Or however these weird towel creatures kill their prey.

You are now between a rock and a hard place.

This is the crossroads where paths are woven,
Now is the place of a road newly chosen. **

*Try to ward off the towel owls

*Get Dr. Winter to call off his pets

Stay tuned, hikers!

 

 

Spread the Joy

I told you he’s crazy!

You choose to capture the white cat. The white cat in a lab coat casually goes around the corner of the mansion. You already know he is able to use poison darts from a bamboo blow gun he stores in his lab coat. Cautiously you sneak around the corner. No sign of the cat. To your left is a stream that runs along a dug out gully. There is a bridge roughly 200 meters. To your right is the back of the mansion, just a wall of marble stone slabs bonded by mortar. In front of you is a path that leads to the Labyrinthine Forest. It’s a path you have never explored.

There he is. He’s just barely poking his head around the corner of the mansion. You slowly get on one knee and try to coax him to come to you. The lab coat adorned kitty meows and rubs against the wall. You are encouraged by this and continue calling. You clap your hands. The cat rolls on his back and looks at you in his lab coat. You smile and say come on, kitty. The cat meows back at you and then yawns. He starts to purr loudly. You slowly start to come toward him, holding out your hand. The cat sniffs your hand and rubs his furry whiskered cheeks against it. You tell the cat good boy, what a nice kitty. The cat jumps on your shoulders. He licks your neck. You smell rubbing alcohol. A cotton ball soaked in Ethel alcohol rolls off your shoulder, but you don’t notice. The cat jumps down and rolls over on his belly. You rub his tummy. He purrs. You check his lab coat. There is no bamboo blow gun.

Suddenly you feel something sharp hit your neck. You realize too late the friendly cat was just a decoy. Another white cat in a lab coat saunters over from under the bridge and sits, watching you with those venomous green eyes.

Behind the cat you see a mysterious figure. He’s draped in a black beach towel, sitting on his haunches. He hoots like a barred owl. Hoots four times. Hoots four more times, then rolls his Rs.

The imposter cat in the lab coat waits. The real cat in the lab coat turns to the towel figure. You hear him speak.

“Take him.”

The figure unfurls the towel. There is nothing underneath it visible. The fabric grabs hold of you and something sharp pierces the back of your neck. Darkness takes you.

You wake up in a black cave hanging by your feet, high above the ground. But they are no longer feet. Just a corner of a large towel. You have become like the towel figure. It is uncertain anything can change you back. Below you is the feline mad scientist. He speaks through a head set behind a glass.

“Greetings, test subject 112A. I am Dr. Winter. You are part of a greater experiment. The sacrifice of your humanity will aid in my plans for the Park. You are one of many. You are many of one. Crave water. Crave meat. Multiply. Spread the joy.”

The words “spread the joy” resonate in your mind. You hoot in answer. In response to you, other towels echo with hoots. You realize there are literally millions of black towels like you in this room. An opening appears. You must be in the mountains somewhere. It doesn’t matter. The hunt is starting. Your shackles release you. Together as one body, you fly like a bat with the other black beach towels out into the night.

This is a test. You target a small town in the mountains. If this succeeds, then you will be directed to the Park. Survivors will be made into towels like yourself. Your old life, with its worries fade as this new life takes over. As you attack innocent citizens you understand that your humanity has gone. You no longer have the morals and ethics you once had. Your justifications are now lowered to a primitive kill to eat status.

Dr. Winter has changed you into a massive black beach towel. Spread the Joy. You now crave sustenance that only piercing your victims in the back of the neck with your sharp needle-like mouth, located in the middle of your body, and draining their life blood and spinal fluid can give. Spread the joy. But don’t worry, you now have millions of brothers and sisters whose numbers are constantly growing. Hoot hoot.

But you do not have to be a killer towel. Go back and change your future.