Dobby Cat Apostos--Action Hero?

    Dedicated to Xavier (Booger) White (9) who asked if Dobby could ever be an Action Hero.

 Writer Lady sits at her computer merrily typing away. Dobby enters the room slowly. He is uneasy but this is important. It's time they talked.

“Mom?”

“Oh Dobby. There you are. Look. See I'm writing already! No wasting time on FB.  No skulking around on Twitter.” Writer Lady turns to look down at the ginger tabby and smiles proudly.

“That's great Mom.”

“Do you remember last week?”

“Yeah.”

“You spent three nights hanging out on the couch?”

“I do remember. It was so cold and you snuggled. On Purpose!”

“You laid around watching TV, practicing other writing, reading.” Dobby says. “When you could have been online making me famous.”

“Dobby kitty, I told you these things take time. You have to earn that kind of admiration. You have to practice and work for it. You have to work very hard.” Writer Lady answers.

“But I have the Gem of the Con's endorsement.”

“Endorsements aren't enough.”

“I disagree.” Dobby says.

“It isn't the destination. It's the journey that's important.” Writer Lady says quoting somebody.

“I know. I also know how you love your affirmations. I love people. I need my people and they need me. What you do just isn't cutting it Mom.”

“Do you think you can do better?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah I do.”

Writer Lady stops typing and looks down at Dobby stunned.

“I got some help. Fresh eyes. They are convinced I can be a really big deal before the end of the month.”

“You got new people?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah Mom I did.” Dobby says looking down in embarrassment.

Writer Lady pauses a moment. “Okay, that's great. It gives me more time to write. I love that.”

“Actually Mom that's what I wanted to talk to you about.” Dobby says. “We need your workspace to make me famous.”

Writer Lady takes in the new information. “So let me see if I'm understanding what you have to say. You not only got new people but now you want to kick me out of my space?”

“Thanks Dobby's Mom. We knew you'd understand.” Tinkletoes says entering High Command. TP follows flying in behind Tinkletoes' left shoulder.

“Seriously? These two are better equipped at making you a Very Important Feline?”

“Yeah.”

Tinkletoes feeling very proud of himself, “See it's like this. TP knows how to spread the word all over about Dobby. I know how to make him look even better than he already does. You know classy.”

Writer Lady looks at Tinkletoes in his cammo everything, ammunitions belts complete with bullets and knives hanging off of them, “You can make Dobby look 'classy'?” She asks.

“Don't worry my dear sweet Writer Lady I will not let the barbarian ruin all that we have worked for.” TP reassures.

“Barbarian? Who you calling a barbarian? Barbarians are uncivilized and dirty. They don't even wear cammo. I'm not a barbarian.” Tinkletoes argues.

“You aren't exactly invited to tea with the Queen either now are you?” TP asks.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Tinkletoes says leaning in close to the faerie. His face is red.

“You don't know?” TP asks.

“Ladies, please.” Writer Lady says as Dobby rolls his eyes. “Let's all be friends here.” Writer Lady closes all of her tabs and gets up out of the Big Writing Chair, quickly grabbing her pad and pen. Taking a seat on the blanket chest she settles in for the fun ahead. “Okay. I'm out of the way. Take my seat and make my Dobby Cat a star.” She sits back and starts scribbling.

Tinkletoes sits down in the 'Not so big to him' Writing Chair, making adjustments and getting settled in. TP lands on top of the desk and finds a seat on the electric stapler. The faerie notices he can't see the computer screen and finds a new seat on the edge of Writer Lady's abandoned mug.

   Tinkletoes begins the meeting of the minds.  “Okay Dobby. The way to get lots of attention really fast is to be an action hero. That's the way we need to market you. You will be the action hero of house cats.” 

Writer Lady hears this and her head pops up. Noticing the panicked look on her face TP puts a finger to his lips and shakes his head. The faerie knows Dobby as an action hero just isn't going to happen.

“An action hero. The females love a good action hero. I like it.” Dobby says.

“I knew you would kitty.” Tinkletoes replies. “Since I'm in good shape and Carp is getting in really good shape too, if we market you as an action hero we'll hang out with you. You will have your own posse right from the beginning.”

“Posse?” TP asks.

“What?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It's an “entourage” now,” TP says.

“But posse is so much more dangerous sounding.” Tinkletoes argues.

“Which is probably why they changed it.” Writer Lady says from her spot across the room.

Three heads turn and glare at Writer Lady, she looks down at the pad and concentrates on her scribbling. “Just say-in'” she mutters under her breath.

“First you need a costume. I was thinking of something like this."  A picture appears on the monitor of a muscle bound hero in black leather pants and heavy black boots. No shirt. "In sub-zero weather you'll wear a black leather duster. A shiny one.”

“I like that idea.” Dobby says. “Is there a hat? I like hats.”

“I was thinking you could wear hats when you are disguising yourself. So you won't be so easy to spot.”

“No one is going to notice a bright orange cat stuffed into black leather pants.” Writer Lady says harassing them. Dirtier looks get sent her way.

“The weapon?” Dobby asks.

“Since I'm good with guns and explosives and Carp's specialty is everything bow and arrow. I think you should have a whip.” Tinkletoes suggests.

“A whip? That's all?” Dobby asks.

“We could add some knife throwing. A lot of action heroes can throw a big knife fairly well too.” Tinkletoes offers.

Dobby reaches up to stroke his chin giving this some thought. “Okay I like it.”

“TP would you mind?” Tinkletoes asks.

“If you would please stand over here.” TP says gesturing to the open area to the right side of the Writing Chair in close range with TP's perch on the mug. The faerie raises both hands and moves his fingers up and down like a musician practicing his scales. The air around Dobby's feet swirls and as it slowly moves up his body the costume appears.

Cruisin'

*Inspired by an idea from Xavier "Booger" White (9).

 The door to the darkened bonus room opens and Writer Lady enters turning on the light. “Dobby kitty! Mommy's home!” As her eyes adjust she sees Dobby sitting on the entry's step, tail thumping.

“You're late!”

“Oh...” Writer Lady says raising her hand to her chest. “Dobby, you scared me.” She looks down at her phone. “I'm not that late. It's not even 5:30.”

“Saturday night!” Dobby says sarcastically.

“You are being redundant. Cats + sarcasm = repetitive. One or the other not both. Since you're already a cat guess what that means.”

“Where were you this time?” Dobby demands.

“The farm.”

“What took you so long? You left the farm twenty minutes ago. It only takes 14.5 minutes to get here. What were you doing for those other 5.5 minutes?” Dobby asks.

“First of all how did you know that? TP hid in my coat pocket again didn't he? Second, 5.5 minutes? You want me to account for 5.5 minutes?” Writer Lady asks insulted by this invasion of her privacy.

Dobby silently glares.

“I was driving around the... (she mutters)”

“I'm sorry, not even my super feline hearing could make that out.”

“I was cruising around the square.” Writer Lady says.

Dobby just stares.

“This is a small town. The square was there. I was there. It is Saturday night. You cruise around the square...you know to see and be seen.” Writer Lady says.

“So...um what's happening up on the square this January Saturday evening when it's 15 degrees out. Whom did you see? Who saw you?”

“Pardon?” Writer Lady asks.

“Who saw you cruise around all cool and confident in your salt encrusted ride?”

“It is January and awfully cold out. So the people I cut off because I was cruising.” Writer Lady answers.

“And...?”

“Oh yeah. The squirrels. The family of squirrels that live in the trees next to the courthouse saw me. They waved and gave me a thumbs up.”

“A thumbs up from the squirrels. That just makes it all worthwhile now doesn't it?” Dobby says rolling his eyes.

“Stop and think about what you're say-ing.” Writer Lady sings out. “Jealousy is never pretty,” she mutters under her breath and walks into the main house turning on lights, closing blinds, etc...

“I don' t think you understand what's important. ME!” Dobby says sitting on the blue chair in the living room. “You just run around day and night in your happy little world cruising around making friends with birds and squirrels. What do you think this is a Disney movie?”

Writer Lady quietly crosses to the cabinet where she keeps the TV remotes and pulls out her secret weapon. A laser pointer.

“I am a Very Important Feline, endorsed by the Gem of the Con herself.” Dobby continues his offensive.

Writer Lady points the laser to the wall in Dobby's field of vision. Flashing it off an on a couple of times. Dobby sees it and stops to pay attention. The light turns off.

“You need to get your act together and start giving my fame your full attention.” Dobby says.

The laser comes back on, sweeping across the floor and on to the wall. Dobby stops talking and devotes his full attention to the red light. Tensing, he wiggles his butt ready to pounce.

Writer Lady turns off the light.

“You really have become a bit distracted lately Mom. You need to Focus. Fo-cus.”

Writer Lady turns the light back on, whisking the laser back into his sights. This time Dobby's instincts take over, he follows the light across the floor, up the wall, down the length of the room, up another wall.

“I'm sorry kitty I missed that last part. What did you say?”

Dobby out of breath, is a panting heap in the middle of the living room floor. “Fo-cus!” the ginger tabby exclaims just as he falls into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Name That Neurosis

Dobby sits on the living room floor watching Writer Lady who sits on the couch.

The room is silent.

The house is silent except for the sound of the running furnace and the humidifier. Two separate things not one. Just so you know.

"Mom, it's after nine you could go to bed now." Dobby says. He has seen this look before on Writer Lady. It's not a good one.

It's Wednesday night, not much on TV. It's been a long day. No fun on the horizon...

"Dobby it's funny. It really is. This moment right now is one of my worst fears. Did you know that kitty? The next fifty years of this."

Silence abounds.

"Oh no...it's starting." Dobby mutters.

TP and I came up with a plan for this. What was the code word? I can't remember...

"Dobby, you know what I wonder?" Dobby's eyes grow bigger as she talks, more quickly and less steadily with each passing moment. "I wonder if in fifty years when I finally do drop dead where will I be sitting? Will it be in this spot?"I bet it's going to be in this exact spot. There will be a really well worn butt indention right here in fifty years."

Think Dobby think.

I can't think of anything. Maybe if I do something cute I can distract her.

Dobby stiffens his body and concentrates on an obscure spot on the floor. The ginger tabby starts chirping excitedly and bobbing his head.

“What are you looking at kitty? Can Mama help you?” Writer Lady says.

Help. That's the word! “Help!” Dobby says, calling to TP.

The living room goes dark. There is thunderous rumble and a blast of fireworks. An announcer bellows, It's time to play Name that Neurosis. With your host, TP the Faerie and his lovely assistant Dobby! (quickly announcer rattles –We decided Dobby is okay even if he is only a cat.)

Startled, Writer Lady is sitting up as far back against the couch as she can go.

Here is our first contestant, she's cute, she's complicated and slightly annoying. Really, so cute we love her anyway. Please welcome, Writer Lady!

Pixies and faeries can be heard cheering in the background.

“I've seen her before. This is going to be fun.” a pixie says in a high pitched voice.

“She is such a puzzle not even Milton or Bradley will talk to her,” another pixie giggles.

On with the show!

Taking center stage in a pale blue prom tuxedo complete with ruffled shirt, TP begins. “For those of you at home who are not familiar with this game. It is simply this.”

“Dobby...” TP says with a sweeping gesture of his arm. The spotlight moves to Dobby.

Dobby smiles. “What?” he asks through clenched teeth.

“The object of the game. Please tell audience for us.” TP continues.

“You tell them. You're the host.” Dobby answers.

“I appeared when you asked for help, came up with the name and I'm wearing this stupid tux. It's your turn to do something.” TP says.

“Something's wrong.” Pixie one says looking in TP and Dobby's direction.

“Let's go see.” Says pixie too. (Too is spelled correctly in this case. These are pixies they don't follow rules).

“Tell them the rules my assistant!” TP announces again.

“I don't know any rules or the object of the game. I've got nothing. Bupkis.” Dobby argues.

“He's got nothing.” Pixie one announces to the crowd.

“Butt kiss.” Pixie too adds.

Pixie one looks at pixie too and shakes her head. “No, no, no...” There is whispering.

“Bupkis! That was Bupkis folks!” Pixie too corrects her blunder.

There are sharp intakes of breath throughout the audience.

In Faerie a bupkis is way worse than a butt kiss which is really quite nice for them. Just so you know.

The audience becomes angry and starts throwing whatever they have with them. Mostly faerie dust which doesn't hurt much. It's symbolic.

“You have broken one of the big five rules, TP.” Pixie one says, snapping her fingers a scroll materializes in front of her. Unrolling it she reads, “Rule number 5. Games must be thought up and ready for play upon introduction of said game. You must be punished.”

TP pales at the news.

The audience is silenced. Shocked that such a punishment will be executed in front of them.

“TP – Faerie of Faerie A.K.A. Totally Pixilated you have been found guilty of breaking Rule 5 of the Fae's Big Five. Prepare to meet your punishment.” Merlin's voice rumbles throughout the living room.

Pixie One and Pixie Too face TP and say in unison, “You were a very bad boy and the pixies aren't going to play with you—Any More!”

TP hangs his head sadly.

The living room empties of faeries and pixies. The faerie dust disappears and the lights come back up.

Seeing it is safe to walk around without stepping on any magical creatures Writer Lady gets up and walks over to TP. “I'm so sorry TP. I don't know what that was all about. You didn't deserve such a harsh punishment. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you Writer Lady. But no there isn't.” TP answers.

“He was helping me take care of you Mom.” Dobby says. “We were distracting you so you stopped freaking out.”

“I was a bit on edge there wasn't I? Well you can be sure I won't be doing that again. That fear was right in front of me and it didn't win.”

“That fear is gone?” Dobby asks.

“That fear is gone.” Writer Ladys says with a smile and heads off to bed.

“One down only 5160 to go.” TP giggles.

“There are no more pixie dates for you. Why are you laughing?”

“You have 5160 more fears to go.” TP giggles some more. “By the way, Any More ends next week. Good night Dobby.”

Going Incognito

 “No. That's not it.” Writer Lady is sitting at the computer, muttering and sounding frustrated. “Gunnery Blue?” She says. Looking over her shoulder at the stormtrooper standing next to the doorway in High Command. “Crap! That's not it either.”

Hearing her frustrated, grumblings from his cozy spot in the living room Dobby enters wondering what the fuss is about this time. “Mom? What's wrong?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady stops her Internet surfing and glances back over her shoulder at the stormtrooper. He has been guarding High Command since Christmas and he still doesn't have a name. It's really starting to bug me.”

“It's not real Mom. It doesn't need a name.” Dobby says.

“If it takes up space in my world and I can name it then it needs a name.” Writer Lady says.

“No it doesn't.” Dobby quietly argues.

“Yes it does.”

Dobby shakes his head. “No it really doesn't.”

“Yes it does. You have a name.” Writer Lady points out.

“I'm your baby. The baby always gets a name.”

“The plants have names.” Writer Lady says.

“They are living creatures. Not as interesting as I am. But still nameable.”

“The stuffed animal on the bed has a name.” She says.

“It's my stuffed animal, I'm the baby. So I wanted Floppy Dog to have a name. I always get what I want.” Dobby counters.

“The car has a name too.”

“That's because you're weird Mom.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, kitty. Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you. You are the Mom. Scooper of the box, bringer of the kibble, changer of my water.”

“If you love me then I get what I want. What I want is a name for the stormtrooper.”

Dobby looks at the stormtrooper again. “How about if we move his post? In here” Dobby says. Walking across High Command and pushing the closet door open with his head. “If you don't see him you won't feel the need to name him.”

“Nope. Too late. He's been here over two weeks he needs a name. Besides you called him a “he.” You didn't say “it.”Deep down you think he needs a name too. So think. Help me name him.”

“What have you tried?” Dobby asks, licking his butt as he listens.

“Buzz Lightsaber?” After the stormtrooper I encountered at the Land of the Rising Bird.

“No. It doesn't work. He has a big gun not a red lightsaber. The other guy was all white. This one has blue trim.” Dobby says.

“I came to the

exact same conclusion.”

“What else?”

“Gunnery Blue?”

“Well he does have a gun and he does have blue on him. I'm sorry Mom that one kind of sucks.” Dobby comments.

“Ditto” Writer Lady agrees.

“Anything else?”

“Grandma suggested Number One.”

“Like Star Trek?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady nods.

“No. It's okay to like both Star Wars and Star Trek but it's not right to mix them together. Besides, I'm your Number One Mom.”

“Against crossovers huh?”

Dobby nods.

“Okay. Well, you are my Number One kitty so calling him that wouldn't be right at all.”

Dobby stops licking and sits up. “How about Number Two?”

“Number Two?” Writer Lady asks.

“Number Two can mean second in line or give me a second I'm going to poop.” TP appears giggling.

“Dobby...” Writer Lady says scolding the ginger tabby.

“I'm sorry...it's just you're making such a big deal over nothing.”

“I don't think it's nothing. He doesn't think it's nothing either. He needs a name.” Writer Lady stresses.

“She acts like the stormtrooper has feelings or something.” Dobby says looking up at TP and rolling his eyes.

“Ah the anthropomorphism...she does have a knack for that doesn't she?” TP asks.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” TP answers.

Tinkletoes walks through the living room and hall. He stands in the doorway of High Command. “Hey Dobby have you seen the cards I brought over the other day?”

“No, no...NO!” Writer Lady bangs at the keyboard, putting her head to the desk in defeat.

“What's her problem?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Mom's trying to name the stormtrooper.” Dobby says.

“Doesn't she like his name?” Tinkletoes asks.

“He has one?”

“Yeah, he told me the other day when I introduced myself. Incognito. The name's stupid if you ask me. He's wearing a suit of armor. What do you expect out of a clone anyway? They don't know how to think for themselves. Does anyone even know what a suit of cognito looks like?”

Whatever Happened To Monitor Man?

Writer Lady sits down in front of the computer.

"Mom?" Dobby asks.

"Yeah?" Writer Lady answers and then sips on her coffee.

"So, what ever happened to Monitor Man?"

"Good question,” she answers.

"Let's check the papers." Writer Lady says.

Writer Lady starts looking for articles about Monitor Man. "So according to these papers you brought me, Monitor Man either has left Hollywood to be the leader of an obscure Third World country in

the South Pacific, was abducted by Aliens, or fell in love with an Alien and ran off to an obscure Third World Country in the South Pacific. This one says he went to South Argentina which is located in France? Dobby, what kind of newspapers are these anyway?" Writer Lady looks at the front. "Kitty these are tabloids."

"So." Dobby says.

"These are not a reliable source for news."

"Just call him and ask him what he's doing." Dobby says looking at Writer Lady expectantly.

"He didn't give TP a phone number. He didn't ask for one either. Face it Dobby, that visit was due to a tear in the space time continuum. So kitty. I love you. If you want to see Monitor Man you are going to have to turn on the TV like everyone else."
“O-kay..." Dobby leaves High Command muttering (I always knew there was something wrong with that guy--no catnip, no phone calls)(more muttering) He'd have a lot to answer for if he had accepted any of Mom's pie. Entering the living room, he sees the remote on the couch. Dobby jumps up on the couch and starts changing channels using the tip of his tail. “Where are you? Stop hiding from me. There you are.” Dobby stops and watches Monitor Man. Closely. “You're mine now.” Dobby jumps down from the couch, crosses to the TV, backing up to the television stand he lifts his tail and...
“DOBBY! What do you think you're doing kitty?” Writer Lady exclaims.
“Nothing.” Dobby answers lowering his head.
“You promised me when I adopted that you were a gentleman that would never raise his tail.” Writer Lady says.
“Mom, you promised not to get my nuts whacked off either. We both know how that turned out.” Dobby reminds her.
“You got me on that one. What were you doing? You never behave like this.”
“I'm mad.” Dobby says.
“At who?” Writer Lady asks.
Dobby turns his head, looking up at the TV.
“Oh...”
Dobby turns his head looking back at Writer Lady. “Aren't you?”
Writer Lady sighs, thinks for a moment and says, “No I'm not.”
“But he...”
“He what?”
Dobby's expression goes blank.
“Exactly. He didn't do anything. TP brought him here under false pretenses. He didn't call the cops, didn't yell he was kidnapped. He was polite, gracious and took the time to have a nice visit. Then he went home. Monitor Man did nothing wrong.”
“He never called.” Dobby says.
“People don't call after they visit sometimes. It's not required.” Writer Lady points out. “It was a surprise. A gift. It's time to let it go.”
“Aren't you sad or something?” Dobby asks.
“It's me Dobby. I can cry over pretty much anything on a bad day. It is part of who I am sometimes. I only have good feelings about Monitor Man's visit and so should you.”
“Let it go huh?” Dobby asks.
“Let it go.”
“You know you never could have hit the TV spraying from down there anyway.”
“I was going to spray while I jumped up to the level of the TV. I had it all planned. Right between the eyes.”
“All you would have done was destroyed the TV.” Writer Lady points out.
“You need a new one. One I'll like watching more. Besides Grandpa hates that you still have this.”
“It's fun watching Grandpa try to break it so I have to get a new one. Nothing is ever going to break this TV.” Writer Lady says grinning.
Dobby looks up at the TV. Monitor Man reappears on the screen. “You didn't send me any catnip. You weenie.” Dobby says, jumping up he raises his tail and...the television sizzles, crackles and goes dark.
“DOBBY!”
“It's okay Mom. Let it go. Just let it Go.”