When Three Stooges Volunteer

The house is quiet when Writer Lady sits down in the Big Writing Chair. It is finally writing day. The first one she has had to herself in a very long time. Opening a Gothic ghost story she started working on several months ago she gets back to work. She begins her session playing up details as Carp suggested earlier in the day. As she works on the story the night sky becomes darker and more cloudy. The lighting strikes during a storm are brighter. The romantic encounter between the brooding lord of the manor and the mysterious she ghost much more intense. When Writer Lady first delved into the world of (coughs) erotic stories she felt strongly that it was a genre she wanted to stay away from but on that particular day one self-proclaimed mercenary needed to be taught a valuable lesson. Although the lesson was over the story had taken on a life of its own.

 Today her eyebrows lift and she giggles to herself as she types. “I might have a gift for this," she mutters smiling to herself.

Writer Lady turns her head to find Smudge facing her. He is sitting in his most formal pose. The kitten with the large brown smudge painted across his nose looks at her expectantly. 

“Hi Smudgie.”

The kitten approaches taking a seat next to her feet and stares up her.

“You’ve already had breakfast.” Writer Lady points out as she continues typing. Feeling the pair of feline eyes have not yet moved she says, “Second breakfast has already been served as well.”

She tries to ignore the eyes boring into her skin and continues typing. Giving up the ghost, so to speak, Writer Lady turns and faces her visitor. “What is it kitty?” She asks as she reaches down to pet the kitten. Smudge comes closer and leans into her hand as he purrs. “You’re very affectionate.” She looks at the clock. “You’re usually napping by now. What’s going on?” She asks. Writer Lady begins looking and listening for anything that does not look or sound as it is supposed to. Living in a house with a cat, a pair of kittens, a baby dragon, another much larger dragon, with regular visits from gamers (one a self-proclaimed mercenary), a demon, and a mischievous faerie, along with other random magical beings in a house that has been enchanted, well, it takes a lot for something to be off in a place such as this one.

Smudge continues to purr. Closing his eyes, the kitten begins to drool. The air conditioning kicks on and he tenses in response.

“It’s okay kitty. Mom’s got you.” Writer Lady looks out the windows to check the sky and wonders if a storm is brewing somewhere just out of sight.

Boom.

Smudge wakes and leaves High Command quickly walking with his stomach low to the ground.

Boom.

“It wasn’t a need for attention but a desire to feel protected.” Writer Lady watches as the kitten makes his exit. She turns her head and listens. “That sounds like something is going on in the bonus room.”

Boom.Boom.Boom!

Heading for the bonus room, Writer Lady stops at the window and looks outside to find a pair of women standing at her door. 

 “Hello?”

“Are you Writer Lady?” The first woman asks.

“Yes.”

“The one with an orange tabby named Dobby?”

“I have a tabby named Dobby Cat.” Writer Lady looks at the women. Both seem pleasant enough but the second woman who she guesses in her eighties seems a bit tense. “Is something wrong? Did he bite somebody? He doesn’t usually do those things. I can assure you that he is up to date on all of his shots. I have the receipt from the vet’s office and the rabies tag. I know that he should be wearing it but I can’t seem to keep a collar on him. He really doesn’t like them.”

“No Baby. He didn’t hurt anyone.” The first woman says.

Writer Lady looks at the younger woman more closely. “Have we met before?”

“No but you’ve probably seen me. Tony Johnson, Window Weather Woman. I can look out the window and tell you what the weather’s gonna be.”

“You’re on television.”

She nods. “The station right here in town. CLUELESS.”

Writer Lady begins to say something.

“I know that those are not the call letters. It’s just my special name for them.”

“‘Cuse me.” The older woman says looking at Tony, “Are you gonna get to the point? Ever?”

“I believe that is what we’re doing here Ma’am.” Tony says. Turning back to Writer Lady she continues, “What is your cat doing today?”

“He's volunteering at the assisted living facility on the other side of town. Dobby was invited to act as an emotional support cat while some friends were helping out.”

“The three stooges?” The older woman asked.

“The friends are men and I have to admit they are a bit odd.”

“Odd?” The older woman glared Writer Lady. “Young lady, they are worse than odd. They’re goddamned heathens.”

Unsure of what do Writer Lady tries to get her visitor to take a step back from her anger. “I’m not sure we’ve met. My name is Writer Lady and you are?”

“Maeve, Maeve Dupree.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Dupree.”

“Nana. People call me Nana.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“No. We just want to know where your cat is?” Nana announced.

“He’s not here. He’s with the stooges?”

Nana looked at Tony. “We are not getting anywhere with this one.”

“I would be happy to help if you could just be a bit more specific regarding the nature of the problem.”

“Your friends came out to the assisted living facility today with reading materials for the residents which were appreciated. They stayed for a bit and even helped with the Bible study class. Nana was filling in for her neighbor today who has not been well. It seems changes were made to the text that was embarrassing for all.”

“Embarrassing is too gentle a word.”

“The class was taking turns reading out loud. It helps the residents keep their comprehension and elocution skills sharp. What the residents were reading..." Tony placed her hand to her chest,"...Miss Tony doesn’t judge. We all like to read something spicy once in a while but several families with children were walking down the hall and heard bits of it. There are several unhappy people in the lobby.”

“So you are suggesting…”

“That those stooges you call friends replaced bible verses with smut. Not just smut. Filthy smut.” Nana leaned in close. “I demand to know where those perverts are. NOW.”

What's It Like Being A Writer?

 

A writer lady watches as her cats sit on a window sill and study a bird during the final moments of daylight. She walks through her home checking doors and windows. She closes the blinds. Turning off the television, she walks into her writing room, High Command. Stepping in front of the window, the wall falls away, as she turns to look behind her, she hears someone calling.

“Mom?”

Turning her attention to its source, Writer Lady finds Dobby Cat, her beloved ginger tabby in the yard waiting. “Come On Mom. The party’s over here.”

Night has fallen. A large white circus tent stands in the yard. Catching up with Dobby Cat, the pair walk up the path past torches on poles. Pixies flutter in the air surrounding her as kittens weave around her feet.

A fire eater releases a brilliant blaze as she reaches the tent. He holds the flap open for her inviting Writer Lady to enter. She looks at Dobby Cat with a quizzical  expression.

“Diomedes made a new friend.” He explains.

She nods.

The interior of the tent is alive with all of her characters. She sees Furnatche, a baby dragon. Carp, the retired romance novelist turned assassin-in-training. Carp's weapon of choice, a crossbow, not the best weapon for a man who suffers from carpal tunnel. Tinkletoes, a self-proclaimed mercenary who works for baked goods and lives to kill ninja-zombies and space aliens. Aunt Purdy and the twins, Peter and Paige along with little Dylan. Diomedes, the most courteous dragon one could ever hope to meet stands next to Ray, a junk food loving insomniac who has clearly been out in the sun waaaaaay too long. Calliope- The Lady In Waiting with her vibrant red tresses is talking to The Lady With The Long Golden Hair, her beloved champion, Pirate stands close at hand. Writer Lady spots The World Famous Faraday, the much loved but generally overlooked gumshoe of her most recent story, standing along a tent wall. When the mysterious Wild Card enters her field of vision with Wise Woman, Writer Lady wonders if he ever settled on a first name. Standing in the middle of it all Tony Johnson, Window Weather Woman is the circus ring master. Tony is currently reading the names of Writer Lady’s characters off a scroll that grows longer with each passing moment.

Scotch?

The spy holds up a glass from the bleachers.

Pen?

Scotch’s partner, who is sitting next to Scotch, nods at Tony.

Francesca?

A stunningly beautiful blonde assassin in a flattering black dress and blood red Jimmy Choo heels raises a hand.

Daemon?

A demon with a large pair of longhorn antlers releases a high pitched sound.

Tony reads more quickly no longer waiting for a response.

TP?

Pixie One?

Pixie Too?

Vin?

Ernest?

Trudy?

Tessa?

Charity?

Monique?

Kelly?

Pin-Up Man?

Mr. Sweets?

Ty? Ty Betterman?

Tony, looks up from the scroll at all of the bodies in the tent. “Am I ever going to be done with this?” She asks. Noticing movement in her peripheral vision Tony looks down to find Dylan with a box of fireworks. “Where are you going with that?”

“Out front.” The boy responds.

Tony looks at the entrance of the tent just as the fire eater exhales another blast of heat. She looks at the boy. “No Baby. No. You are not taking those fireworks to the entrance. The fire eater is not your personal lighter.”

“What good is fire eating if you don’t torch anything?” Tinkletoes asks as he bites into a cupcake.

“Dude is right.” Ray agrees. “Fire eaters should light stuff.”

Tony looks at all three and says. “No Babies. No.” She takes custody of the box, without looking at who is accepting it from her, she hands it over to TP.

The faerie who is well known for his mischief sits the box on the ground and with a bit of magic lights up the entire lot creating an explosion of color and sound within the tent. The ceiling of the tent burns away revealing Aurora Borealis moving along a star filled sky. Fireflies, faeries and pixies flutter into the tent from above, flying in every direction.

Music begins to play and everyone gets moving. The ring quickly fills with dancers, crowding the weather woman out. Writer Lady and Dobby Cat find their way through the crowd and greet Tony.

Tony looks around. “There sure is a whole lot going on here.”

Writer Lady nods.

“It’s a real bear to organize.” The weather woman observes. “How many more characters do you have up there?” She asks pointing to Writer Lady’s head.

Writer Lady’s eyes grow big, she’s afraid to answer.

Diomedes does it for her. “A writer’s imagination is infinite.” The dragon says as he approaches.

“This crowd is going to keep growing? Forever?” Tony asks. “I barely made a dent in the list as it is.”

Diomedes nods. “It will continue to grow for as long as Writer Lady is with us.”

Tony Johnson pales, “I don’t know how many more I can handle. Where did that bitch with the high heels go?” She asks looking around. “She knows how to kill people.”

Writer Lady looks at Tony, “And I’m standing right here.”

“Then I guess you won’t be surprised when old High Heels comes for you will you now?”

What’s it like being a writer? It’s like hanging out with a bunch of circus performers, when they’re at a rave.

The fire eater enters the tent and releases a blast of fire in front of Writer Lady.

Welcome to my world.