I saw him lurking there as I entered the room. His wide piercing eyes stared me down as I approached. The tension in the air was palpable. You could see the trepidation in his gaze. I felt the slightest tremble in my hands.
He caught me off guard when he jumped up on the piano and stumbled along the keys making a dreadful noise. I was relieved when he stepped down off away from the piano, giving me the opportunity to take my seat, still under his watchful eye.
Then he smiled that Cheshire cat smile of his. You know the one that stayed with you long after you parted company?
He ducked from sight for a brief moment, that grin still hanging in the air above him, only to re-emerge clutching his horn. Malcolm Jenkins played a smooth trumpet. His riffs were flawless, his passion was off the charts; his soul reached into the depths of hell to slap the devil into paying attention to his muse.
And as I began to tickle the ivories, Malcolm followed my lead, only to abruptly take charge and bring me along for the ride. We jammed until the wee hours of the morning, and when we were done, the devil and I were on a first name basis. Like I said the Dude was smooth.
Deb, I'd love to have footage of that myself. Mal became a good friend who unfortunately loved his smokes. Lung cancer had claimed my "main man" in '06.
I keep trying to think of something but I just can't get beyond the fact that I don't think of black cats as either superstitiously unlucky or more "vile minions of Satan" than other cats. If they were, no one would own black cats. Also, in the history of time, chances are that a cat has crossed every path you intend to take, so we're all pre-cursed. It's too vague of a curse. I just can't support it.
Ladders... okay. The number thirteen... well, it's odd and prime, so I'm a fan, but at least the variables associated can be controlled. Broken mirrors... you've broken something--you're already unlucky, but seven years? Really? Besides, seven is also prime and odd, so, once again, I'm a fan. If I was going to be unlucky for years, I'd rather be unlucky for seven years than six, so that would be lucky in my mind.
See... I'm over-examining. I can't come up with something fictional under these conditions.
Black cats are not unlucky... unless you own them and you're allergic like me... in which case, they hate you and you're cleaning up their crap--you should know you're cursed.
Julia looked up from her magazine to see a cookie floating by. It turned to enter the hallway towards Alex's room.
"Alexander Simon LaGrange?" she called. "Why is there a cookie heading toward your room?"
The cookie paused briefly and then continued on its course as Alex called back, "It must be lonely!"
"Lonely, is it? Are you sure that you aren't the lonely one?" Julia asked as she entered the room. She crossed the room in two quick strides and sat on the bed next to her son. "Is something the matter?"
"A black cat crossed my path."
"Oh? And?"
"And..." Alex took a big bite of the cookie. Crumbs fell down his shirt as he thought out his response. "And the ranger said that if we saw any black cats we were supposed to call them."
"Did you call?"
"No."
"Why not?" Julia smiled and played with his hair.
"She wasn't doing anything wrong. The rangers made it sound like black cats were mean and would get me. That cat, she was scared. I didn't want her to be scared. I didn't want the rangers to get her."
Julia kissed the top of Alex's head. "That sounds like a very good reason. I'd have done the same. Now, is my little cookie lonely anymore?"
Alex smiled. "No."
"Good. It's time that you go to sleep. Goodnight, my angel."
Julia tucked Alex in and shut off the light on the way out of the room. The rangers were scaring her child with their talk about dangerous black cats. She would have to be more careful in the future when she went out in travel form. The other neighborhood children might take delight in the notoriety that would come to them for calling in a black cat. Julia did not want that cat to be her.
Ohhh... very cool, Cari. I liked how much details you implied with so few details. Nice.
Deb, I had cake for dinner last night and for breakfast this morning. So... what are you saying--that much sugar might not be healthy? I'm pretty sure that's just a rumor perpetuated by the ADA. I can operate on surag and ffaceine... I mean sugar and caffeine. See! I'm fine.
I'm sticking to my guns on this black cat business. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to explain to children ridiculous superstitions while trying to warp their minds to accept the world is supernaturally dangerous all by itself? It's nearly impossible. I mean... I manage, but it's difficult.
A black cat crossed my path.
ReplyDeleteI saw him lurking there as I entered the room. His wide piercing eyes stared me down as I approached. The tension in the air was palpable. You could see the trepidation in his gaze. I felt the slightest tremble in my hands.
He caught me off guard when he jumped up on the piano and stumbled along the keys making a dreadful noise. I was relieved when he stepped down off away from the piano, giving me the opportunity to take my seat, still under his watchful eye.
Then he smiled that Cheshire cat smile of his. You know the one that stayed with you long after you parted company?
He ducked from sight for a brief moment, that grin still hanging in the air above him, only to re-emerge clutching his horn. Malcolm Jenkins played a smooth trumpet. His riffs were flawless, his passion was off the charts; his soul reached into the depths of hell to slap the devil into paying attention to his muse.
And as I began to tickle the ivories, Malcolm followed my lead, only to abruptly take charge and bring me along for the ride. We jammed until the wee hours of the morning, and when we were done, the devil and I were on a first name basis. Like I said the Dude was smooth.
A black cat crossed my path.
And it was apparent, that cat could blow!
This is great, Walt! You'll have to YouTube us a sample of that jam session. LOL
ReplyDeleteDeb, I'd love to have footage of that myself. Mal became a good friend who unfortunately loved his smokes. Lung cancer had claimed my "main man" in '06.
ReplyDeleteI keep trying to think of something but I just can't get beyond the fact that I don't think of black cats as either superstitiously unlucky or more "vile minions of Satan" than other cats. If they were, no one would own black cats. Also, in the history of time, chances are that a cat has crossed every path you intend to take, so we're all pre-cursed. It's too vague of a curse. I just can't support it.
ReplyDeleteLadders... okay. The number thirteen... well, it's odd and prime, so I'm a fan, but at least the variables associated can be controlled. Broken mirrors... you've broken something--you're already unlucky, but seven years? Really? Besides, seven is also prime and odd, so, once again, I'm a fan. If I was going to be unlucky for years, I'd rather be unlucky for seven years than six, so that would be lucky in my mind.
See... I'm over-examining. I can't come up with something fictional under these conditions.
Black cats are not unlucky... unless you own them and you're allergic like me... in which case, they hate you and you're cleaning up their crap--you should know you're cursed.
Right on, Walt. Good one. No caning today.
Walt, I'm so sorry to hear that. Nice homage to your "main man" though!
ReplyDeleteWendy, I think you just posted your piece on black cats and superstition! Have you been into the Halloween candy already?
Julia looked up from her magazine to see a cookie floating by. It turned to enter the hallway towards Alex's room.
ReplyDelete"Alexander Simon LaGrange?" she called. "Why is there a cookie heading toward your room?"
The cookie paused briefly and then continued on its course as Alex called back, "It must be lonely!"
"Lonely, is it? Are you sure that you aren't the lonely one?" Julia asked as she entered the room. She crossed the room in two quick strides and sat on the bed next to her son. "Is something the matter?"
"A black cat crossed my path."
"Oh? And?"
"And..." Alex took a big bite of the cookie. Crumbs fell down his shirt as he thought out his response. "And the ranger said that if we saw any black cats we were supposed to call them."
"Did you call?"
"No."
"Why not?" Julia smiled and played with his hair.
"She wasn't doing anything wrong. The rangers made it sound like black cats were mean and would get me. That cat, she was scared. I didn't want her to be scared. I didn't want the rangers to get her."
Julia kissed the top of Alex's head. "That sounds like a very good reason. I'd have done the same. Now, is my little cookie lonely anymore?"
Alex smiled. "No."
"Good. It's time that you go to sleep. Goodnight, my angel."
Julia tucked Alex in and shut off the light on the way out of the room. The rangers were scaring her child with their talk about dangerous black cats. She would have to be more careful in the future when she went out in travel form. The other neighborhood children might take delight in the notoriety that would come to them for calling in a black cat. Julia did not want that cat to be her.
Ohhh... very cool, Cari. I liked how much details you implied with so few details. Nice.
ReplyDeleteDeb, I had cake for dinner last night and for breakfast this morning. So... what are you saying--that much sugar might not be healthy? I'm pretty sure that's just a rumor perpetuated by the ADA. I can operate on surag and ffaceine... I mean sugar and caffeine. See! I'm fine.
I'm sticking to my guns on this black cat business. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to explain to children ridiculous superstitions while trying to warp their minds to accept the world is supernaturally dangerous all by itself? It's nearly impossible. I mean... I manage, but it's difficult.
Cari, that was great! Your descriptive was so fantastic, I was watching that cookie!
ReplyDeleteWendy, sugar and caffeine are my bff's. Give me a Coke first thing in the morning and I'm happppy.