Tinkletoes A.K.A. Mrs. Donut

Tinkletoes stops just outside the bathroom door studying his reflection in the hallway mirror. Looking back from the reflection is a grown man with thick closely cut hair, a five o'clock shadow, and massive arms. Hair from his legs is sticking out along the hem of the dress.

“I told you I was too manly for this. He'll never buy it.”

TP, Dobby, and Carp all gather around Tinkletoes.

“You might be right. And I thought you just really didn't want to put on the dress. I have to say this is disturbing.” Carp says looking at Tinkletoes with horror. “It's the angles, just too many angles. Women are supposed to be soft.”

“I know. There's just nothing soft about me.” Tinkletoes says. “Take off your shirt,” he says looking at Carp.

Carp takes off his shirt.

“You aren't very soft either and your pecs aren't big enough. They would never pass for boobs.” Tinkletoes points out. “This was the only plan I had too. Do you have a sister?” he asks looking at Carp. Carp shakes his head. “Maybe if the dress had sleeves?”

Dobby whispers something in TP's ear. The faerie nods. Turning around Dobby runs into Writer Lady's bedroom and returns with a large piece of fabric in his teeth.

“A shawl for the lady.” TP says giggling.

Bending down Tinkletoes gently accepts the shawl from the ginger tabby. “Thanks buddy.” He drapes it across his shoulders wrapping the ends around each arm. “Okay. How do I look?”

“Pretty girl.” TP giggles.

Dobby makes a face.

“I can't believe it.” Carp says. “It just gets scarier.”

“Paint your nails.” TP giggles. “TP go find lipstick.” The faerie does somersaults in the air as he laughs.

“Dammit TP! This is serious. We are at war faerie.” Tinkletoes says.

TP shakes his head and laughs. “No, not so serious.” The faerie keeps laughing. “Tinkletoes makes an ugly girl.”

“You...” Tinkletoes says reaching out to grab the faerie. TP somersaults out of Tinkletoes' reach and quiets his laughter.

“No. No. It's okay. TP has magic for you.”

Putting out his arms and wiggling his fingers TP says:

To make a lady from this buffoon

Is to bring forth a butterfly from it's cocoon

Soften the angles

“This doesn't sound like the usual spells.” Tinkletoes says to Carp.

“The fae are going through changes.” Dobby says. “Some of the spells are written by committee now.”

“This is my part.” TP giggles

Give him a pretty scent

Take away his burps

From this moment man is woman

May he be careful how much he flirts

Before TP, Dobby's, and Carp's eyes the ex-soldier and self-proclaimed mercenary's appearance changes. The five o'clock shadow, the hair on his arms and legs disappear. The lines of his face and visible muscles soften. Pecs become boobs and his hair grows out too.

“How do I look?” Tinkletoes asks with a higher and softer voice.

TP, Carp, and Dobby all look at each other.

“You smell better.” Carp says.

“Really?” Tinkletoes asks.

Leaning in Carp takes another whiff. “Sweet. Like cinnamon and sugar.”

After several minutes of monitoring the activity on the street, Carp and Tinkletoes take advantage of a few quiet moments and cross to Mr. Donut's house.

“I can't believe TP has all that magic and he couldn't give me shoes. This street is hot.” Tinkletoes says.

“Those barefoot and pregnant jokes you used to tell in high school aren't so funny anymore now are they.” Carp says.

“You don't think I can get pregnant while I'm like this do you?” Tinkletoes asks.

“I don't know. TP did a really good job on those boobs.” Carp says staring down. “He might have done other things too.”

“My eyes are up here Carp.” Tinkletoes says as they finish crossing the street. The pair stop in Mr. Donut's driveway. “You knock on the sliding door in the kitchen when he answers, I'll sneak in the bedroom through the window.” Tinkletoes says turning away.

Carp nods and says, “Promise me one thing.” Tinkletoes turns back to Carp. “Don't let Mr. Donut get to second base on the first date. That's just slutty.”

Tinkletoes glares at Carp. The two...um...men begin to part ways. Remembering something Tinkletoes whistles and they meet back in the driveway. “What was Mrs. Donut's name?” he asks.

“Clara.” Carp says. “But he always called her Rainbow.”

Scratching his head for a minute Tinkletoes turns and finds his way into Mr. Donut's bedroom.

“I don't know what it is with these people. A grown man comes to the door selling Girl Scout cookies on a holiday. He had no cookies. We should have moved five years ago when I suggested it.” Mr. Donut says as he returns to the safety of his bedroom. The walls are covered with frames. A couple takes a lot of pictures during a 45 year marriage. He had them all hanging where he could see them. Mr. Donut lays back down on his bed. “Clara I miss you so much,” he says. Tears fall again.

I can't believe this guy is still crying. Let's get this over with. “If you miss me so much then sit up and talk to me.”

“Clara?”

“Yes Duncan.” Tinkletoes says.

“Is it you?”

“Yes Sweets it's me.”

Mr. Donut sits up and opens his eyes. He gazes at the silhouette in the darkened room reaching for his glasses on the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” Tinkletoes asks gruffly.

“I'm getting my glasses my dear. I can't believe you're here.”

“It's me darling.” Tinkletoes reaches out and smacks Mr. Donut on the hand. “You don't need those glasses. Reach out with your heart, can't you feel that it's me?”

Mr. Donut closes his eyes. “I can smell cinnamon and sugar. It is you. My Rainbow. My little Rainbow Sprinkles.”

Rainbow Sprinkles? Tinkletoes mouths making a face.

“I have missed you so. Every day, every hour, every minute, every second of life has been so empty without you. Will you come home? Will you stay?” Duncan Donut asks.

“I can't stay Sweets. I'm dead.”

“Oh. I was hoping you were just really mad at me.”

“I'm a ghost.”

“Okay. I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“What took you so long?”

“What do you mean what took me so long?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It's been two years. Two years and not one visit. Haven't you stopped by? Heard me crying? Seen my tears?”

Of all the people that could help me, Carp finds the one with separation anxiety.

“I came back.” Tinkletoes says.

“You did come back.” Mr. Donut says.

“It's the Fourth of July?” Tinkletoes adds.

“It is the Fourth of July.” Mr. Donut agrees. Mr. Donut's features soften a bit. A wry grin crosses his lips. “Rainbow Sprinkles. You naughty little minx. You missed your Daddy didn't you?”

Facepalm

“No way. There is no way I will put on a dress.” Carp says pacing Writer Lady's living room floor.

“But you're more in touch with your feminine side. The old man is so distraught he might actually buy it.”

“I'm not helping. If you want to get permission like this you're going to have to put on the dress yourself.” Carp argues.

“If I put on the dress it's just not gonna look right. Women just don't have biceps like these.” Tinkletoes says, flexing a well sculpted arm.

TP's giggling can be heard in the background. “I will help you. I know a trick.” He says. The giggling continues.

“Now you're helping?” Carp asks glaring at TP. “Writer Lady asked you to supervise. You can't help.”

“Technically, Mom said TP was supposed to make sure Tinkletoes actually got permission from the neighbors and the signatures. She didn't leave specific guidelines.” Dobby says.

“Yeah! What he said.” Tinkletoes says with a big grin.

“She said that TP has permission to “use magic to stop you if you try to pull a fast one.” Carp reminds them.

“Mom didn't say anything about using magic to help.” Dobby points out.

“No she didn't!” Tinkletoes says pointing to Dobby. “That's if I try to pull a fast one. Dressing up, breaking in, finding the right place to wait, convincing Mr. Donut to do what I ask because I'm the ghost of his dead wife. I have to say, this crap is taking forever. I'm definitely not pulling a fast one.”

Carp raises his hand to his forehead, slowly runs his hand down his face, and begins to mutter. “I speak English, everyone hears English, yet no one is listening. Absolutely no one is listening.” Raising his head and looking back up at Tinkletoes he says, “What if someone sees you breaking in? What if they call the police?”

“It's the Fourth of July. Smelts is on duty. He won't arrest me. I'm a lot bigger than he is and besides I'm a lot smarter than he is.”

TP giggles.

“I don't know what's scarier about that. The fact that you can outsmart Smelts or the fact the this town finds it in their best interest to give Smelts a gun. I think it's time to move.”

TP is still giggling.

“You know something Carp? You were a lot more supportive of this idea yesterday.” Tinkletoes points out.

“You weren't talking about breaking and entering yesterday.” Carp answers.

“You have a lot to learn if you're going to be any kind of assassin.”

“Nope. I've got it all figured out. Don't do anything illegal and you won't get caught.”

“Assassins kill people. Killing is illegal.” Tinkletoes points out.

“I've found a way around that. I've decided since I always miss anyway, I'm going to use it to my advantage.” Carp answers proudly. “I'm going to attach a note to my arrow—when the target reads my note it will say: This has been a botched attempt on your life. Clean up your act. Don't make me come back here.”

“So instead of just neutralizing the target and collecting your money, you're going to stalk someone, attack them, and leave a traceable death threat?” Tinkletoes asks.

“It's possible this plan needs a little bit more work.”

Tinkletoes raises his hand to his head and runs it down the length of his face.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Now put on the dress.” Tinkletoes says pointing to a full length flowered dress on a hanger that is floating in the air next to TP.

“I told you before. If you want to deceive that poor old man do it yourself.”

“I've had enough of your arguing Carp. Be a man and put on the stinkin' dress!”

TP looks at the dress he made materialize a few minutes before. Leaning in he sniffs. TP looks down at Dobby. The ginger tabby makes his way to the dress. Standing on his back legs, Dobby climbs up the skirt of the dress as far as he can without losing his balance. Sitting back down and looking up at TP, Dobby shakes his head confirming the dress smells fine.

“You have issues Carp. Some serious issues.” Tinkletoes yells, walking to the bathroom, taking the dress with him as he passes by it.

Tinkletoes' Troubles

“You keep thinking about this.” Carp says, leading Tinkletoes back to the front steps. “Sit down. You don't want to tire yourself. You have a big enough challenge ahead.”

“You spent way too much time in Writer Lady's head during the war. We haven't yanked all of her snarkiness out of you yet.” Tinkletoes says sitting down on the top step. “I do think better when I'm sitting down though.”

Another entrance door opens and shuts. Within minutes Writer Lady is backing out of the driveway, she rolls down the window, “Bye. Have fun today!” She calls smiling.

Carp waves and smiles as she drives away.

“I don't care what TP or anyone else says. That woman has a mean streak.” Tinkletoes says.

“I think it's you. I think you bring the obnoxious out.” Carp says.

“Me?” Tinkletoes asks. “I'm a teddy bear. Completely lovable.”

“How many teddy bears have their own flame throwers exactly?” Carp asks.

“You talk entirely too much these days.” Tinkletoes says glaring at Carp.

“Any ideas yet, Einstein?”

“I'm working on it.” Tinkletoes says resting his chin on his hand, focusing on the step between his feet, concentrating.

A shuffling noise is heard on the gravel driveway two houses down.

“There's Mr. Morely with his garbage. Right on time. He never remembers the holidays.” Carp says. He looks down at Tinkletoes who is lost in thought. “He's on your list too. I think I'll go help him take his trash back to the house so it doesn't catch fire today.”

“How about if we ignore the list and offer TP something to lie and tell Writer Lady we got all of the signatures? Can't we just do that?” Tinkletoes says. No response. “Carp?” Tinkletoes calls after looking up and discovering he is alone. Scanning the perimeter, Tinkletoes finds Carp deep in conversation with one of the neighbors. Carp looks at Tinkletoes. Smiling he looks back at the old man, shakes his hand and returns to Writer Lady's front steps.

“Who were you talking to?” Tinkletoes asks.

“That was Mr. Morely. He's on your list. I helped him put his trash can away, he forgot that today was the Fourth of July. I told him about the shooting range and your problem; having to get permission from so many of the neighbors. He says that Mr. Donut is who you should talk to. If you can get Mr. Donut to say 'yes' almost everyone else on this list will agree too. Mr. Morely looked at the list and all of your potential opponents are on vacation this weekend. Not even home. Which lowers the number to twelve households.”

“Where does Mr. Donut live?”

“Right across the street.” Carp says. “We need to be really nice to him, Mr. Morely said his wife died a couple of years ago and he's still sensitive about it.”

“Okay.” Tinkletoes says.

“No yelling. No bullying.”

“Got it.”

“Don't get in his face either. He's 94.

“I understand.”

“Don't forget...” Carp begins.

Tinkletoes glares at Carp. “I won't. What's his name?”

“Mr. Donut. Duncan Donut.”

Tinkletoes and Carp make their way across Writer Lady's front yard and on to the street.

“I'm not sure I can call him that without laughing. Does he have a nickname?”

“Sweets?”

Tinkletoes stops walking. He looks at Mr. Donut's house.

“We don't have to do this today. Appointments will be opening back up at the gun club next weekend.”

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady's house then looks at Carp. “I am a mercenary. A veteran of several tours of duty in the Middle East. The man who made winning the Ninja Zombie War possible. I am not going to let a 127 pound smart ass of a woman beat me. Not today. Not any day. No matter what.” He says continuing across the street to Mr. Donut's front door. Tinkletoes rings the doorbell just as Carp reaches the front door.

Nothing happens. Fifteen minutes later Carp's polite knocking has been replaced by Tinkletoes' banging on the door. Thumps rattling windows. Window boxes of flowers shaking with the vibrations.

“I'm going to look in a window. Maybe he's not home.” Carp says tiptoeing away.

Nodding Tinkletoes continues his assault on the door.

“You can stop knocking.” Carp says returning from the far side of the house. “I found Mr. Donut in the bedroom. He's sitting on the bed looking at old movies of wife and crying. There's no way he's going to talk to us today. Poor man.”

“He'll talk to me today. You're making things sound worse than they are. Let me see what's going on.” Tinkletoes says following Carp around to the back of the house. Both men keep their heads low and look into the bedroom window.

An old man lies on his bed in a fetal position watching home movies on his VCR. He is weeping uncontrollably.

Tinkletoes and Carp sink down turning and sitting with their backs against the wall.

“You weren't exaggerating. That man is in a bad way right now.” Tinkletoes admits. “He'll never answer the door much less talk to us.”

“What do you want to do?” Carp asks.

Turning around, Tinkletoes peeks into the bedroom window. “That's okay.” Tinkletoes whispers returning to his seat against the wall, “I have an idea of who he will talk to.”

Anything She Wants

“Anything you want.” Tinkletoes says.

“I can't believe he said that.” Dobby says running his paw down his face.

“Silly human.” TP's giggle can be heard throughout the room.

“Foolish, foolish man.” Carp adds.

“Anything?” Writer Lady asks again.

“Anything.” Tinkletoes verifies, looking into Writer Lady's eyes.

“Okay.” Writer Lady's eyes change a little. The wheels are turning in her mind, brain cells are working at full capacity. “What I want is...for you to go to each of my neighbors individually and get their permission to set up your little shooting range for the day.”

“Done.” Tinkletoes says.

“In writing.” Writer Lady leaves the room returning from High Command with a clipboard, legal pad and pen. She scribbles a couple of sentences on the page as well as names and addresses of the neighbors he needs permission from. “Here you go.” Writer Lady says handing Tinkletoes his supplies.

“There are a dozen houses on this list.” Tinkletoes says.

“Really?” Writer Lady asks. Taking the clipboard she scribbles again handing it back to Tinkletoes. “I added a couple more because most of your weapons are military grade and probably have greater range.”

“Twenty?”

“All twenty neighbors.” Writer Lady confirms.

“There won't be any time to shoot.”

Writer Lady's lips curve up into a sly smile.

“What if a neighbor is out of town?” Tinkletoes asks.

“They can be scratched off the list. I'm putting TP in charge of making sure my instructions are followed. He can use magic to stop you if you try to pull a fast one.” Writer Lady looks at the clock on the wall. “Will you look at the time? Eight-thirty already, it's getting late. If you get started now you might still get a couple of hours play time squeezed in tonight. You'd better hurry.” Writer Lady opens the front door for Tinkletoes and Carp. “Don't worry about the hour most of my neighbors are early risers.”

“You mean they're old.” Tinkletoes mutters. “A bunch of old farts. Why did you pick this neighborhood anyway?”

“It's quiet, which is great for writing and there is always someone looking out for the house.” Writer Lady answers pushing the two men out the door. “Have fun.” She calls cheerfully closing the door behind her.

“What just happened?” Tinkletoes asks.

TP appears in front of Tinkletoes and Carp wearing a tailored British suit and wool cap. The faerie is holding a pipe that looks like it might have belonged to Sherlock Holmes. “You have been outwitted my good man.” TP says speaking like a well cultured Englishman. “Outwitted com-plete-ly.” TP lets out a giggle and disappears in a tiny puff of smoke.

Carp glares at Tinkletoes. “You gave her carte blanche. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think that looking into her eyes and telling her she could have anything she wants would melt her into a puddle of goo, making her incapable of asking for anything?”

Thinking for a minute Tinkletoes says, “Well, yeah. It works on Mom all the time.”

“It didn't work this time did it?” Carp asks.

“I was so sure it would too. Writer Lady is a lot like my mom. Same short temper, same glare, same snarky comments.” Tinkletoes says. With a quick snap of his fingers he continues, “I'll bet it's because she doesn't have kids. That maternal instinct hasn't kicked in yet.”

“Isn't it possible that approach works with your Mom only because she gave birth to you?” Carp asks.

“No. Women love me. I can't get them to leave me alone.”

“Then why is it you never corrected the miscommunication of last winter? Why haven't you told anyone Writer Lady is not your girlfriend? Why do you always end up over here during your spare time...playing with her cat? Isn't this cramping your style? Isn't it time you got your own cat?”

Tinkletoes glares at Carp. “You know something? Ever since all that Ninja Zombie War business you've gotten real talkative. It's annoying.” Tinkletoes says walking down the stairs.

Carp follows. Before Carp can begin his trek across the front lawn Tinkletoes puts out an arm to stop him.

“There has to be a better way to do this.” Tinkletoes says.

“TP is watching. We have to do this her way.”

“The neighbors are never going to say yes.”

“Which is why she made this agreement.” Carp points out.

“Look at this list. They are all old people.”

“What's wrong with old people? Do you have a problem with them?”

“They don't have an open mind. You have to write things really big or yell just to talk to them. They always say 'no'. Even if you just want another cookie.”

“Your grandparents were tough on you?” Carp asks.

“You have no idea.” Tinkletoes admits lowering his arm.

Shaking his head Carp takes a step forward, before another step is made Tinkletoes' arm is blocking his path again.

“They're old people! This is perfect.” Tinkletoes says. “I know exactly how to get around this. We are going to wait until Writer Lady leaves the house. Then we are going start at the top of her list, go to each and every house, you knock on the door. When they answer you talk to them and try to get their signatures. While you're doing that I'll sneak into the house, take their glasses, binoculars and hearing aids. They won't be able to see or hear a thing. We can shoot all we want. There won't be single complaint.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You can't do that. They're old people.”

“If they can't see anything it won't bother them.” Tinkletoes argues.

“If they can't see anything they may fall. If they can't see anything and one of us misses they won't duck either.” Carp counters.

“Oh. I didn't think of that. Clearly the plan needs work.” Tinkletoes admits.

“Clearly.”

“What if we just took their hearing aids?”

“Not all of them are going to be hard of hearing.” Carp points out.

“Really?”

Carp shakes his head.

“Damn.”

The Men Return

“I don't know where to start.” Dobby says.

“Begin at the beginning.” Writer Lady answers.

“You were there.” Dobby says.

“Let's revisit the beginning and then you can tell me what happened after I left the house. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“It started early this morning.” Writer Lady says.

Dobby nods.

“With the knock at the door.”

“Yes. It was Tinkletoes and Carp.” Writer Lady continues.

Dobby nods.

“Dobby kitty do we have to do it like this? If I have to pry every little detail out of your furry butt this is going to take forever.”

“Patience Mom.”

“I'm patient.”

Dobby just stares at Writer Lady.

“I am!”

Dobby keeps staring.

Writer Lady thinks for a minute. Thinks for another minute. Bites her lip. Looks around the room. “Do you remember that time when... no...I guess I wasn't that patient then. What about? Okay maybe not that time either. I know I have been patient at least once.”

“I love you Mom but we don't have that kind of time.”

“Tinkletoes and Carp were at the door. They were knocking which was weird.”

 

Knock. Knock. THUMP!

“Who is it Mom?” Dobby asks following Writer Lady to the front door.

“It's Tinkletoes and Carp.” Writer Lady looks toward the bonus room. The door is closed between it and the rest of the house. “What should I do?” She asks.

“Answer it.”

“What about Carp? What if he sees...you know.”

“Relax Mom he won't. Tinkletoes has been working with him. He will never notice Mural Man.”

“Even though...he's just got the loin cloth?”

“It will be fine Mom.”

“But the mural isn't wearing many clothes.”

“It will be fine.”

“He's basically naked.” Writer Lady continues.

“He's not completely naked. It will be fine.”

The banging continues.

“Say something Mom.”

“Com-ing!” She calls out.

“Just relax and open the door.”

Writer Lady looks at Dobby nervously.

“Re-lax and open the door.”

Taking a deep breath Writer Lady says, “Maybe I should pee first.”

Dobby stares.

“This is stressful.”

“Mom...open the door.”

Writer Lady opens the door for Carp and Tinkletoes. Entering, the mercenary and the assassin in training look surprisingly clean.

“Dobby. My cat.” Tinkletoes says.

“What's up?” Dobby asks.

“How was survivalist camp?” Writer Lady asks.

Tinkletoes looks at Carp who is standing at attention, staring straight ahead. “You know. Survivally.” He answers.

“I wish I could have gone.” Dobby says.

“Dobby I told you before you're a housecat. Besides whenever someone opens a door to outside you run into the closet.”

“He's working on that. It's a little post traumatic stress.” Tinkletoes says.

“From what?”

“From before.” Dobby says.

“Before?” Writer Lady asks.

“Don't blame yourself. Those first 8 weeks were really stressful.” Tinkletoes says.

“What!”

“Sorry Writer Lady. But there is no time to talk about that now.”

Writer Lady glares at Tinkletoes.

“I'm...Carp and I are here so early...We want to ask a favor.”

“No. No. NO.”

Tinkletoes nods.

“You cannot do that here. There is no way you are doing that in my yard.”

“It's only for today and tonight. You're always busy.” Tinkletoes says.

“It's Saturday night. It's blog night. I'm at home every Saturday night and you know it.”

“That's not my fault is it.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady glares.

“You wouldn't be spending your Saturday nights at home if you had listened to me, Wench.” Carp says between his teeth. “All you had to do was kiss him.”

Writer Lady fumes.

“Regardless of anything else that may or may not be happening in my life right now, I will not let you set up a shooting range in my backyard. It's loud. It's dangerous. You'll damage my sheds and it's illegal.”

“The cops are fine with it. I checked with Smelts last night. It's the Fourth of July. No one will notice. I am a professional. Carp is almost as good as I am. Your sheds are just old.”

“No.”

“No. That's it?” Tinkletoes says.

“That's it.” Writer Lady answers.

“That's your final word?”

“That is my final word.”

“I don't want to have to do this but you leave me no choice. Ninja Zombie War. You owe me.” Tinkletoes says.

“'Cuse Me? You're pulling the war card? Now?”

Tinkletoes leans against the wall crossing his ankles and then his arms with a smug grin. “Now.” He says.

“You...”

“Mom?”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby.

“Mom why don't you let him have this one?”

She shakes her head.

“Let him have this one on the condition he can't use the Ninja Zombie War ever again.”

Writer Lady stops shaking her head and keeps listening.

"If I say "yes".   What else do I get?” She asks.

Mural Man Is In The House

“Mom? Mom? Moom!” Dobby runs through the house calling to Writer Lady. The ginger tabby looks in the bedroom, High Command making his way into the living room. “Yeow!” Dobby calls.

“In here kitty.” Writer Lady says.

“You're in the kitchen. Do you know you're in the kitchen?” Dobby asks.

“Yes kitty.”

“On purpose?” Dobby asks.

“Yes. What's wrong with me being in the kitchen?”

“Nothing. You just haven't been hanging around in here much lately.” Dobby says.

“That's probably because every time I turned around I was making those fancy cupcakes. Not for fun or because I was hungry but to pay off your debt. It kind of takes the fun out of it. Speaking of the hours I used to spend as a kitchen slave...guess what I'm doing.” Writer Lady says.

“Making um...dinner?”

“Nope.”

“Cookies? Everyone loves your cookies.”

“Wrong again kitty.”

“I don't know Mom.”

“I'm baking cupcakes. Fancy cupcakes. It seems that since I was the one who went to the Shiny Arch to the West I owe Tinkletoes more baked goods because he saved”, Writer Lady raises both hands to make the quotation gesture, “all our asses.” Lowering her hands she continues, “A debt must be paid. It doesn't matter that I didn't start the war or that I did not even send for him or that he's been gnawing at the bit for something like to happen for-e-ver.” Looking at her recipe she says, “It looks like we are starting with salted caramel cupcakes.”

“That's different.” Dobby says.

“Tinkletoes would hate for me to get bored.”

“Where is Tinkletoes?” Dobby asks.

“He took Carp to survival camp. They're hunting, fishing, not showering. You know guy stuff.”

“I'm sorry you're baking and it's not fun Mom.” Dobby says.

“It's not too bad. It gets me out of the bedroom.” Writer Lady says going back to her mixing.

“The mural is still not gone huh Mom?”

“No. House has a crush on Monitor Man now. She and TP created a spell that covers the mural most of the time. House is only supposed to be looking at it, 'WHEN I'M NOT AT HOME!' ” Writer Lady yells from the kitchen towards the bedroom. “ 'SOMEONE PULLS IT UP, GIGGLES, THEN HIDES IT AGAIN. CONSTANTLY!' ”

A strange hissing noise comes out through the baseboards of the kitchen. “Hmmmph!” “True Love” by Pink spreads throughout the house. Giggling can be heard from the bedroom. Writer Lady sighs and rolls her eyes.

“What's the music for?” Dobby asks.

“House and TP are making Monitor Man's picture dance.”

“How long have they been doing that?”

“It's been going on all day. I have to say seeing a grown man in a loin cloth shake his butt like that is just disturbing.”

“You said they weren't supposed to do it while you were here.” Dobby says.

“I was on my way to the bathroom. TP fixed it so the mural can travel to any wall in the bedroom.”

“How bad is it?”

Looking down at Dobby she says, “There was twerking...and lam-ba-da.” The music grows louder. More giggling.

“Give it a rest. PLEASE!” Writer Lady calls to the bedroom.

There is silence. For exactly one minute. The music returns even louder with more giggling.

“I just wish it would stop. What happens when House learns the truth about Monitor Man? Look at how Carp reacted. What are we going to do when she learns she can't keep him? What are we going to do when Carp sees him?”

“Find a new place to live?” Dobby asks.

“I'm serious kitty.”

“Mom...you do know you are talking about an inanimate object? She's a house. She knows the picture isn't real, she's just having fun. Even if Monitor Man did see her and like her back what could happen? He could live in House, he could talk to her sweetly possibly caress her door jambs. But that would be it. He's a man, she's a building. This isn't Monitor Man, it's a mural so technically she could keep him. This isn't about her. This is about you. I think you liked Monitor Man more than you admitted to anyone.”

“Let me explain something to you kitty. In life there are people who are unavailable. They live in different parts of the world, live different kinds of lives, they move in completely different circles. You will never know them personally. Entertainers, directors, athletes (for some people), great writers (for others) and actors. People you find interesting and know you will never meet; you kind of put them in a box away from everyone else and try not to think about them too much. They don't exist in your world. They aren't real.”

“Neither are faeries Mom.” Dobby points out.

“TP is different.”

“Monitor Man was in that box.” Dobby says.

“TP pulled him out.”

“Yes he did. When he was gone for so long I just started directing him back to his box.”

“Then the Ninja Zombie War came and...he became real.”

“He became real again. Carp was right there too. Squealing and carrying on. I got sucked in. I not only thought incredible adventures were possible but that anything was possible even Monitor Man. Although I'm a practical woman and I knew how the Monitor Man story would play out a part of me was disappointed. Now I have to put him back in the box again. And look at Carp he's having even more trouble putting things away. I don't want House to have that problem.”

“House is a house. This is a mural. There won't be a problem.” Dobby says. “Just because you were disappointed doesn't mean it will happen to House. Let's let House have her fun Mom.”

Writer Lady stops mixing, picks up the cupcake pan and starts preparing it.

“I don't know kitty.”

“Everything will work out Mom. I promise.”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby. He is looking up at her with seriousness and confidence. Like any cat.

“On two conditions, she and the mural have to move out of my bedroom and into the bonus room. It's a long narrow room that's perfect for dancing. The mural is not Monitor Man we will not call him that. From this day on, he is to be called Mural Man. And she has to stop playing that song.”

“Thanks Mom."
"Thank you kitty.”

“Oh and Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Don't put people in boxes anymore, it's just weird.”

Writer Lady nods.

Interview With An Imposter

                                                

Writer Lady sits in the Big Writing Chair utterly and thoroughly blocked. She keeps perusing the Internet looking for something that will lead her to something else that will get those creative juices flowing. Waiting for inspiration to strike. Dobby stays away not sure if when inspiration strikes it is anything like lightning. Writer Lady sits, reads, looks at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, thinks about vacuuming-- decides not to, eats an orange and is still blocked.

“Mom!” Dobby calls sitting in the doorway which is a safe distance from Writer Lady, just in case.

“Yes kitty?”

“Are you still blocked?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady sighs deeply and nods.

“You know if you had eaten those funky brown sticky things you would probably be okay by now.” Dobby reminds her.

“Those are prunes and that is a different kind of blockage entirely.”

“A different kind of blockage?” Dobby asks.

“Entirely.”

“It's your mind that's going isn't it?” Dobby asks.

Writer Lady turns to Dobby and frowns. “No, in this case blocked means I am creatively blocked.”

“Oh...” Dobby goes to his catnip box, rolls it over with his nose and dumps it. The box is empty.

“What are you doing?” Writer Lady asks.

“I was going to share.”

“Dobby, catnip doesn't do for me what it does for you.”

“Have you ever had any?” Dobby asks.

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I don't. That doesn't matter the box is empty. I just have to relax a little bit and then I'll think of something.”

Dobby leaves High Command and returns with the container of prunes.

“Dobby what are you doing?”

“Why don't we smash some of these on your head?”

Writer Lady glares.

“If you've never done it you don't know that it won't work Mom.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady continues sitting at her computer with prunes smashed into her hair.

“Is it helping?”

“No. My head is wet, sticky and I feel ridiculous.”

“You smell better?” Dobby offers. “Just keep brainstorming. You've got this.”

“I hope so kitty. I hope so.”

Stopping in the doorway of High Command, Dobby turns back to Writer Lady, “You know what you need Mom?”

“No what?”

“To interview somebody. You know just for this week. Since you're blocked.” Dobby says.

“Interviews take time. Research. Background information. Questions have to be formulated. Questions the person being interviewed hasn't been asked hundreds of times before. Most importantly you have to find a willing victim...um...participant.”

“What if your subject had never been interviewed before?”

“I don't know kitty.”

“You see him every day. So you have background information.” Dobby offers.

Writer Lady tenses a little, not sure where this is going.

“What if you interviewed Incognito?”

“Incognito?”

Dobby walks over to the three foot action figure and stands up, putting his front leg around Incognito's shoulder.

“I don't think that will work kitty.” Writer Lady puts her hand to her mouth and whispers. “He's an action figure. He doesn't really talk.”

“He doesn't talk but you just shielded your mouth from him and whispered so he couldn't hear you?”

“Yes?”

“That doesn't make sense Mom. Even for you.”

“Besides if he doesn't talk how did Tinkletoes know his name?”

“Tinkletoes made up the name. He just said Incognito told him his name so I would accept it and stop freaking out about him not having one.”

“Just a month ago he was on stage with me playing a trumpet.” Dobby points out.

“TP. Faerie magic. Duh.”

“Mom. Just try it.” Dobby says dropping to all four paws and making his way into High Command's closet; leaving Writer Lady alone to study Incognito.

Inside the darkened closet, Tinkletoes and TP are already hiding. They have a view of Writer Lady and High Command from a small monitor screen. TP is wearing a headset. The faerie is covering the mouthpiece with his hand.

“I'm telling you guys, Mom is too smart. She is not going to fall for this.” Dobby says.

“She is tense and sleepy already, she is totally going to fall for this.” Tinkletoes counters. TP nods in agreement. “You're not trying to back out of our bet now are you? You do have the support of the Faerie council Dobby. They even took away TP's powers for this prank. The only way to win this bet is if your mom falls for it.”

The three watch as Writer Lady sits and studies Incognito.

“She not only has to interview Incognito. She has to believe it enough to put it in the blog and post it to the Internet. The odds are stacked against TP and me. We haven't backed out.” Tinkletoes says.

Writer Lady turns around in her chair to face Incognito.

“Okay, she's going to make a move. Here we go guys.”
 

“Hi. Incognito.” Writer Lady says. “Could I...would you be willing...may I interview you?” she asks.

“Yes.” The clone warrior says.

“Would you like to sit down?” Writer Lady asks.

“No.” Incognito says.

“Okay. Well I'm just going to pick you up and move you over to where I can see you better.” Writer Lady says picking up Incognito and placing him near the desk. “There. That's better.”

“I know your name is Incognito and you came to live in High Command on Christmas Day but where are you from...originally?”

“I am from France.” Incognito answers in an even robotic voice.

Writer Lady shifts her eyes from the monitor back to her subject. That phrase is familiar. “I'm not sure that's right.”

“I am an alien. I am from France.” Incognito repeats.

Writer Lady checks her research. “Clone troopers were created on a planet called 'Kamino.'”

“I am from France.”

Meanwhile, in the closet. “What are you doing? Why are you talking like that?” Tinkletoes asks TP.

“TP has been studying humans much. This is more natural for her. She understands.”

“She will understand very soon that this is a load of crap. Stop it!” Tinkletoes says.

Thinking for a moment, Writer Lady asks, “Where is this France? Where is your homeland?”

“Canada. My France is in Canada.” Incognito answers.

“Where is France? What part of Canada?”

“The part that speaks French.” Incognito responds robotically.

“What is the name of the city you are from?”

“Troy!” Incognito exclaims.

“There is no Troy in Canada.” Writer Lady says. Something is off about this interview.

“I am from Troy! I look just like Brad Pitt.” Incognito says. “In Troy. Brad Pitt in Troy.”

“That sounds like an old pick up line.”

“Want to kiss me?” Incognito asks.

“No I don't. There is something off about you Incognito. Besides, Brad Pitt's not my type.”

“He isn't. You don't have a type. But in Troy Brad Pitt was yummy. You said so.”

“No I didn't.” Writer Lady argues.

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn't.”

“On Sunday, March 2^nd at 2 p.m. you said, “Watching Troy? Brad Pitt isn't my type but in that movie...he sure looks yummy.”

“Troy? What is really going on here?” Writer Lady asks.

“Nothing.”

“Really.”

“Then where are you from?”

“I am from France. Incognito, the happy clone, I come from France.”

“Incognito, the happy clone?” Writer Lady repeats studying her surroundings. Looking at the ceiling fan above her head she sees it, a small camera nestled near the blades. Next she sees a fine black wire running from the ceiling fan, along the ceiling and into the closet.

“I am from France. Want to see my underpants?”

Writer Lady rises from her chair and heads for the closet.

As she crosses the room she hears a desperate plea coming from the clone warrior, “Want to see my underpants? They are blue! One of your favorite colors.”

Writer Lady opens the door of the closet to find Tinkletoes and TP huddled together watching a small screen. Both pale at the expression on her face.

“I won! Thanks for playing guys. It looks like you two are going to be kind of busy, we can settle up later.” Dobby jumps down from his perch on a shelf and leaves the room basking in the glow of not being the one who is in trouble this time.

It's All In The Title

Writer Lady is sitting in High Command waiting for lightning to strike. Inspiration to light a fire under her butt. A joke. Any joke. Nothing is happening. Getting up she makes her way into the living room.

“Dobby? Kitty?” She calls softly looking around the room.

Curled up in the blue chair, Dobby opens one eye. Barely. Writer Lady squats down on the floor next to the chair and peers at him through the spindles. “I'm sleepy.” Dobby says stretching his front legs out.

“Me too.”

“I love you Mom.” Dobby says using his front paws to touch the end of Writer Lady's nose. “It's blog time. Go write.”

“I don't know what to say. I need help.” Writer Lady gets up and heads over to the couch. “I'm going to shut my eyes for a minute kitty. A little nap is going to make all the difference.” She lays down.

“Tinkletoes. TP.” Dobby calls. “Tinkletoes! TP!” Dobby walks around the living room in circles, his call is frenzied and loud.

The mercenary and the faerie both reach the ginger tabby at the same time.

“What's wrong?”

“It's Mom. She won't wake up.” Dobby says.

“Again?” Tinkletoes asks. “It's not the chocolate thing again is it?”

Dobby shakes his head. “It's worse. This is blog night. She hasn't written a thing.”

“When is it supposed to be up?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Two hours ago.”

The cell phone lights up and vibrates on the end table by the couch.

“Do you want me to get that?” Tinkletoes asks.

“Those are her followers. Demanding to know what's going on.” Dobby says.

“How many followers does she have?”

“Four.” Dobby says.

“Four? You're scared of four people?” Tinkletoes asks.

“They are fiercely loyal.” Dobby says.

“Follower says kitty needs to go to the pound. Where litter is cheap, dusty and will stink just as much as Dobby's poop.” TP giggles reading the latest text.

Dobby's eyes grow wide. “I don't know what to do.”

“We'll just have to give the people what they want.” Tinkletoes says.

“Tinkletoes wants to write.” TP giggles.

“No TP. We need your magic. What will fix this?” Tinkletoes says.

TP flutters over to Tinkletoes' ear and starts whispering.

“Really? She can do that without being awake?” Tinkletoes asks.

TP nods.

“Don't worry Dobby. We've got this.” Tinkletoes crosses the living room and carries Writer Lady into High Command, sitting her gently in the Big Writing Chair. He places her hands on the keyboard.

“Now what?”

“TP will enchant the keyboard to pick her thoughts up while she is sleeping and string the random components into a post. All we have to do is wait. When we get enough for the post. I will put it up on the Internet.”

Several minutes later Tinkletoes goes to the computer and looks at the word count on the word processing program. “690 words. That should be about right.” After picking up Writer Lady and putting her back on the couch, Tinkletoes settles in to put up the new post for the blog. “It's cut and pasted. Now all I need is a title. Got it. See Dobby it's all done. The day is officially saved.” Tinkletoes announces. “That was hard work. Tell your Mom to make me some muffins in the morning. I'll be by. Early.”

Writer Lady wakes from her nap happy and refreshed. She checks her phone right away confident that she had only lost an hour. “2 A.M. It's two in the morning. Oh no!” She screams running to the computer. Checking it quickly she breathes a sigh of relief. “It's okay. I must have woken up and written the blog earlier. You know you're tired when you get up in the middle of the night, write and post a blog and then forget about it.” Clicking on the link Writer Lady smiles and takes a peek at what she came up with. Her smile shrinks the longer she reads, “Oh no. No, oh no. This is not good. This is not good at all.” She turns away from the chair and breathes deeply. In and out. In and out. With each passing moment the breathing becomes more frantic. “Dobby kitty! Come here please!”

“Mom?” Dobby asks. Writer Lady is pale and breathing erratically.

“Who wrote this?” She asks.

“You did.”

She breathes faster shaking her head.

“It's kind of a long story.” Dobby says.

Writer Lady continues to hyperventilate.

“I'll tell you everything but promise me one thing.”

Writer Lady nods.

“Put your head between your knees Mom, head between your knees.”

She bends over putting her head between her knees and listens.

“Remember at 8 o'clock tonight when you laid down for quick nap?” Dobby proceeds to fill Writer Lady in on what she has missed.

“So, they hooked my sleeping body up to a computer like I was another computer and recorded any random thoughts that might make a blog.” Writer Lady says. She is out of the Hyperventilating stage and has entered the Anger stage.

“Did you read it?” She asks.

“I can't read Mom.” Dobby says.

“Did anyone read it?” She asks.

“Tinkletoes glanced at it. He came up with the title.”

“And this is where it gets interesting. The title. Do you know what the title is?”

Dobby shakes his head.

“Lonely Widow Ladies Get Sexy And Wild. What the...is that supposed to mean? What if a child reads this?”

Writer Lady looks down at Dobby. “What if a child has already read this?”

“Mom.”

“The post itself is so simple and disjointed it makes a grade school reader look like Shakespeare.”

“Mom?”

“I can't believe this is happening. This is really happening. I try to be a good person and live a good life. It's gone. Just gone.”

“Mom!  Let's check the stats. Look at the comments and see if anyone was offended.” Dobby says.

A light slowly dawns. “Of course. I may be worrying for nothing.” Writer Lady goes to the blogs stats to check things out. “I have 3000 hits tonight. You know what this means kitty.”

“Yes.”

“There are some really sick people out there.”

“Don't be so quick to judge Mom you have lots of comments. Read one.”

Clicking the comments button she reads, “Hey there. I didn't know you could...write. This was so great, it started out really exciting. Especially with the title. Then it got slower and slower. The story made no sense even for me. I starting falling asleep. Dude. I told everyone in my insomniac support group about this. We are all ready to snooze. I have a whole new respect for you. You are one Cool Cat Mom.

Catchin' Those Zzzzs.

I love you man.

Ray

One Big Night--Revised

                            

“Mom? Mo—om!” Dobby calls walking through the hall and into the living room.

Finding Writer Lady stretched out on the couch, Dobby jumps up on to her chest and yowls. “MO-OM!”

“Yes kitty.” Writer Lady answers, “Move kitty, you're standing on my boobs.” She says squirming back and forth until the ginger tabby jumps up on to the back of the couch.

“You have to get up now Mom. It's time. Time for my party.” Dobby announces, stretching down to rub his head against hers.

Writer Lady checks her phone. “You're right. Let me get changed. It's getting late.” Writer Lady goes into the bedroom and comes back out in a t-shirt and jeans. She does a full turn. “So. How do you like it?” Silence. “Dobby?”

Dobby glares.

“You don't like it?”

“That shirt announces when you last number 2d” Dobby points out.

“Not classy enough huh?” Writer Lady asks. “Are you sure? I painted my nails and everything.”

“Dress. Put on a dress.”

Writer Lady pales considerably.

“You painted your toe nails without shaving your legs again didn't you Mom.”

“No I shaved my legs. Both of them.” Writer Lady announces proudly. “See?” She lifts a leg of her jeans to reveal a bare ankle, currently stubble free.

“Mom. Fo-cus. Put on a dress.”

“Okey dokey.” Writer Lady takes off running from the living room back into the bedroom.

Dobby takes out his recorder and starts talking. “Mom is extremely cooperative and malleable right after a nap.”

She returns in her ultra short British Flag dress.

“Not that one. Classy Mom. Classy.”

“But I like this one. It's fun and flippy.” Writer Lady argues.

“Mom please.”

“O-kay.” Writer Lady says. She returns to the bedroom head hanging. She returns wearing her other dress. “Okay?” she asks.

Dobby nods. “Stockings and shoes please.”

“But it's just us.” Writer Lady says.

“It won't be. Stockings and shoes.”

“No one will see my pretty toes.”

“Shoes.” Dobby reiterates.

Writer Lady starts to negotiate.

“Shoes.” Dobby repeats.

Writer Lady's mouth begins to open.

“Shoes, Mom. Shoes.”

Writer Lady heads back into the bedroom muttering.

“I can hear you.”

The door slams.

Dobby takes this time to explore the living room more closely. Things have been dusted and vacuumed. Looking out the big picture window, he finds nothing. The same yard no red carpet flowing up the walkway, no extra cars parked in the driveway, where are those bodyguards?

“Mom?” Dobby calls.

“Yes kitty.” She calls from the bedroom, I'll be right out.

“Are you going to decorate or is the caterer doing that too?”

“I decorated already can't you see it? I moved a bigger table into the living room it has this lovely cloth on it, I put out tapered red candles that are going to be lit , a pretty golden tray, streamers.”

“That's it?” Dobby asks.

“Besides the food? Pretty much. That hippie ran off with your catnip disco ball.”

“I know you aren't as good at classy as I am Mom. But didn't you research this? Weren't you listening? Because this isn't what I pictured. At all.”

“I know it isn't exactly what you wanted but when I got into the dollar store I just started getting ideas and things kind of got away from me there.” Writer Lady confesses.

“The dollar store. You decorated for the most important night of my life with stuff from the dollar store?”

Dobby runs his paw down his face. “She's a disaster. A walking, talking disaster.”

Ray walks into the kitchen. Shopping bags in hand. “Dobby.”

“How did you get in the house?” Dobby asks.

“Tinkletoes showed me how to pick the lock.” Ray says.

Dobby glares at Ray.

“He showed me where Writer Lady hides the extra key.” Ray says, looking at the floor.

“Do you have anything good in there? Milk, cheese, catnip?” Dobby asks jumping up on to the counter and sticking his head into the bag.

“Sorry Dude. None of that.”

Confirming there is no milk or catnip Dobby removes his head from the bag.

“I have some hard salami, crackers, pickles, potato chips and my personal favorite –chocolate. There might be dip in here some where too. I can't remember. I bring my own snacks to parties. I hit them pretty hard so I like to help out. I kind of have an eating problem.”

Dobby stares waiting for Ray to stop talking.

“I can't stop. I just eat and eat. It's all so good. You know?”

Ray finally stops talking.

“When is everyone getting here?” Dobby asks.

“What?” Ray asks. “Hey man. How are you Dobby? Long time no see.”

Dobby leaves the kitchen and heads back into the living room finding a spot on the couch. “I just don't understand. This was my big night and nothing is happening. Why?”

“Dude. There is an ice storm coming. No sane person is going out.”

“Why are you here?” Dobby asks.

Ray cocks his head to one side and thinks. “Free food man. I love to eat.”

“You brought it with you.” Dobby points out.

“I did. Didn't I?” Ray says. “I rock.”

The living room grows quiet except for the sound of a random home improvement show playing the background.

“I've seen this one before Dobby. The coolest part of it is, they get the really cool TV they wanted. The couple doesn't know they are getting the TV.”

“That happens in all of them. The homeowner gets something they really wanted at the last possible second. They want us to be surprised.”

“Dude...you ruined it for me.” Ray gets up out of the chair and heads back into the kitchen. He meets Tinkletoes, TP, Carp and several others in the kitchen.

“Ray! Glad you could make it man.” Tinkletoes says.

“It was fun.” Ray says sadly.

“Was fun?”

“Was. That cat friend of yours just ruined something very special for me.”

“What?” Tinkletoes asks.

Ray cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “Tink! Dude! Long time no see man.”

“I know. Come on into the living room. Let's get this party started.” Tinkletoes says, carrying in his PS4 gaming system.

“Okay.” Ray says, following Tinkletoes.

“Come on Dobby. Get your furry butt up off the couch. Let's play some games.” Tinkletoes says.

“I don't wanna.” Dobby sits up, stretches, turns his body around so he is facing the other direction and goes back to sleep.

Tinkletoes continues disconnecting Dobby's gaming system and replaces it with the PS4.

“Come on Dobby. I want you to meet Carp. He has carpal tunnel and gets really mad when it makes him screw up a move. It's really funny.”

“Assasin's Creed. We are playing Assasin's Creed. I must learn.” Carp says.

“Dude. We're playing Need For Speed. I have a need man.” Ray argues.

“Don't tell me about your needs. Your needs are creepy.” Carp says.

“Sorry guys. We aren't playing either one first. Tonight is Dobby's night. I have a special program just for him.” Tinkletoes announces.

Dobby looks up. “You made me a devilishly handsome adventurer in a game didn't you? Dobby Cat Apostos Invades the Temple of Gloom. I'll go get my whip.” Dobby says jumping down from the couch.

“It's not that kind of game. I think you'll like it though. It's kind of a sci-fi thing. Dobby you design your own planet, cities, characters and adventures. You do it all. Right down to the food for sale in the marketplace. A buddy of mine wrote it. We set it up with a city you might like until you learn how it works and everything. Go ahead.”

Dobby makes his way over to the controller and taps a button with the tip of his tail. A vibrant lush green city fills the screen. “Is this what I think it is?” Dobby asks.

“Yeah. Catnip. The whole planet is made of catnip. Take that route in to the city.” Tinkletoes instructs. “See Dobby. The buildings are catnip. The marketplace is full of catnip. Even the streets are catnip. See that?” Tinkletoes asks pointing to the far left side of the screen.

“Another feline.”

“A female.” Tinkletoes says.

“A hot one.” Dobby says.

“Over there.” Tinkletoes points to the right side of the screen.

“Another female made out of...catnip.”

“You'd be getting your nip and eating it too. Dude.” Ray says.

Tinkletoes glares at Ray.

99 Posts of this Blog On The Wall

“He has his own baby dragon to play with.” Writer Lady repeats, looking at Tinkletoes and TP. “Dylan's right. How many cats are not only named after a character in a book but have a character in a book patterned after them?”

“Yes, Writer Lady, that could work.” TP agrees rubbing his chin.

“I don't like it. It's too soft.” Tinkletoes says.

“You don't like anything that isn't your idea do you?” Writer Lady asks.

Tinkletoes starts to argue, stops and thinks. He opens his mouth to speak, gets a confused look on his face and shuts it again. “I'm going to come up with something for next week. When I do you'll be the one standing here, looking foolish,” he stalks out of the house slamming the door.

The next day, Writer Lady is sitting at the computer in High Command when Dobby enters the room.

“So um...Mom? I've been thinking.” Dobby says.

“Yes kitty.”

“With next week being the 100^th post and everything. I was wondering...”

“Wondering what?” Writer Lady asks not stopping to look away from the monitor.

“If we can do some special things. I have a list.” Dobby jumps up on to the desk, pulls a sheet of paper up and sits it in front of Writer Lady's monitor.

“Now?” Writer Lady asks, leaning in to read. “Tuna steaks with catnip,  champagne on ice, popcorn with butter, freshly dipped chocolates. Fancy cupcakes. Why?”

“For our 100^th post. We must par-tay.”

“I would like very much to “par-tay” but are six bodyguards necessary?”

“The women love me. What can I say?”

“No?” Writer Lady continues reading. “You want a venue? Why do you need a venue? We always write here at home.”

“There are going to be lots more people.” Dobby announces.

“Really? How many more are you expecting?”

“100. At least.”

“100 people?” Writer Lady asks.

“At least.” Dobby reiterates.

“Where are these 100 people going to come from?”

“Oh...um...all over. I'm a really cool cat.”

“There is no question in my mind you are cool. The shining star of my heart. I just don't know where you are going to find so many other people who feel the same way.”

“I will. Mom. Don't worry about that. You have a lot of other stuff to do. Keep reading.”

“You will be wearing the various costumes showcased in the first 100 posts. There is supposed to be a musical montage dedicated to you and your antics. You want a red carpet? Live tweeting?” Writer Lady stops reading and announces to Dobby. “Kitty this is a 100^th post celebration not an awards show.”

“Keep reading.” Dobby says.

“There will an award to the house cat who most embodies the playfulness, intelligence and purrsonality of our own beloved Dobby?”

“I'm calling it the Furball.” Dobby says, rolling a ball of his hair along the desk so Writer Lady can see it.

“Why can't we just do it here at the house?”

Dobby pulls the first page down leaving another list in Writer Lady's field of vision.

“The people on this list are actors and entertainers. Dobby, I don't think the President of the United States is available to give you a Lifetime Achievement Award.”

“I have this all worked out.” Dobby says.

“Okay. I have some questions. Who is going to set up the venue with seating, decorations and the food?” Writer Lady asks.

“We'll hire a caterer.” Dobby says producing a stack of catering brochures.

Writer Lady starts glancing at the information. “This sounds like a big deal. How are we going to pay the caterer?”

“Sponsors.”

“Sponsors? How are we going to get these sponsors? How will we sell their products?”

“We are going to televise.” Dobby says.

“Televise?”

“Who is going to watch a televised celebration for the 100^th post of a blog about a woman, a fantastically lovable cat and his friends as well as the fictional characters that have some how come to life in their house?”

“That's where the 'guests' come in.” Dobby answers.

“Oh you mean...the entertainers and actors in the audience?”

“Viewers will tune in to see them. They will get curious about me. I'll trend. They'll find the blog. In one stupendous night I will be famous.” The air grows heavy, standing up, Dobby's shadow enlarges to an alarming size, his deepened voice bellows, “MWAAHAHAHAAAAA.”

“Well. That was disturbing.” Writer Lady mumbles.

The air in the room loses weight and a light harmonic melody begins to play in the background reminding us of a simpler time. Hot dogs, baseball, apple pie and the comforting knowledge that no matter how wonderful dinner was there is always room for Jell-o. “Come on Mom. I'm Me! I'm amazing. You have never met another cat like me. I'm completely lovable.” Dobby says. “That's what the people want a lovable character.”

“That's true.” Writer Lady admits. “Kitty, I'm afraid you just aren't there yet. I wish you would stop pushing for something so big. You don't get to enjoy the simple things in life that way.”

“Yeah.” Dobby groans, lowering his head.

“Seriously kitty. Let's just sit together and enjoy a hot cup of tea. The quiet of a winter evening. Our impending accomplishment. I never thought we would continue this blog to 100 posts. Did you?”

Thinking for a moment, “I never thought you could stay focused this long Mom. It is truly amazing.” Dobby says with gravity.

Well Hello Dobby

“Do you mind if we get back to what's important now?” Dobby asks.

Everyone looks at Dobby.

“ME!”

Tinkletoes and Writer Lady look back at each other, then look back at Dobby.

“Of course.”

“Don't worry about the Action Hero thing not working I've got tons of ideas.”

This time another throat clears. TP is floating next to Tinkletoes wearing his director's clothes, complete with expensive sunglasses and a bullhorn. Setting the bullhorn down on a table, TP flies over to Dobby and floats back and forth in front of his new “star.”

“No. No. NO...” TP says shaking his finger. The faerie paces back and forth in front of the leather clad ginger tabby. “This is not right at all. This is what happens when you have no respect for the art that is film making. Dobby was endorsed by the Gem of the Con. That is class. Felines are clean, cunning and chic. We have to show the world this amazing example of impeccable feline style. We need...Armani.” TP snaps his fingers. There is a rumble and large puff of smoke encases Dobby. When the smoke clears the leathers from the action hero costume have been replaced with a fitted black suit. The creases in the pants are defined. The tie—narrow bordering on skinny. “Turn around.” TP orders. Dobby rotates. The suit fits beautifully. The pants altered to accommodate Dobby's tail. The black fabric dramatically opposite to his orange fur.

“Wow.” Writer Lady says.

“He looks like a Halloween decoration.” Tinkletoes says unimpressed.

TP coughs and glares at Tinkletoes. The room quiets.

“You are classic my good cat and we will present you in this way. What is more classic than Broadway?” TP waves his arms and a stage appears along the living room wall. The floor glows with a high polish. The red of the curtains is striking against the shimmer of the floor. “Dobby, if you will take the stage.”

Dobby carefully makes his way up the stairs, stands center stage and waits. “I would like you to sing and dance for me.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea? His yowling is highly annoying.” Writer Lady asks.

“Shhhh!”

Tinkletoes laughs from the spot he has taken on the couch. Writer Lady glares at him sitting down on the other end. Tinkletoes coughs lightly and turns his attention back to the stage.

“You will need musical accompaniment.” TP flutters up and flies into High Command. When he returns Incognito is following. The clone warrior's gun has been replaced with a trumpet. “Right up there on stage young man. To Dobby's left.” TP turns around to face his audience. “The song I have chosen is universally enjoyed by music lovers of all types all over the world. I have modified it to showcase our star. We will give the world our own personal “earworm.” Everyone will be looking for our favorite cat when I am done.”

Returning his attention to the stage, “ On three. One...two...three!” TP snaps his fingers, Incognito starts playing the intro. Soon Dobby is singing.”

“Hello Dobby. Well Hello Dobby. It's so nice to have you back where you belong. You're looking swell Dobby.”

“Swell?” Tinkletoes says. “No one even uses that word anymore.”

“I can tell Dobby.”

“Now just start dancing.” TP says. “A little Soft Paw.” Dobby complies with the elegance only a cat possesses.

“You're still glowin'...you're still crowin'...you're still goin' strong.”

TP pulls a dance cane out of thin air and tosses it to Dobby. Dobby catches it without missing a beat.

“I feel the room swayin'....while the band's playin'. One of your old favorite songs from way back when.”

“Now. Prance! Lift those feet up high.” TP says.

“Oh no.” Tinkletoes says running his hand down his face. “This is just wrong.”

“So take his wrap fellas. Someone find him a lap fellas.”

“Cut!” Tinkletoes says standing and walking towards the stage.

“No cut!” TP says.

“Cut.” Tinkletoes makes it to the stage. Dobby and Incognito stop.

“No cut!” TP says using his bullhorn. “Uncut. Keep going.”

“You don't have to do this Dobby.” Tinkletoes says.

“What is going on in here?” Aunt Purdy asks entering the living room with Furnatche and the kids in tow.

“They were making Dobby a star and now they are fighting about the details.” Writer Lady says. "I'll give you specifics later."

“Yes he does.” TP says.

“No he doesn't.” Tinkletoes says.

“If he wants to be famous he does.” TP counters.

“This is not the only way.” Tinkletoes says.

“It's MY way!” TP exclaims. The faerie's body is bright red with anger. The mercenary and faerie are now nose to nose.

“You're making him look like a pussy.” Tinkletoes says.

A sharp intake of breath has been hear from the far side of the living room. They look up to see Aunt Purdy pale. She and Writer Lady are covering as many children's ears as they can.

“TP, Tinkletoes? Could you hold the conversation for just a second?” Writer Lady asks. She uncovers Dylan's ears, stands up and makes her way over to the stage with Furnatche following close behind. The minute the baby dragon sees the steps he climbs them following the scent left on them to Dobby.

“I let you both have some fun but this is becoming a problem. You tried the Action Hero thing he isn't in shape for that.” Writer Lady says, holding her left hand out several inches from the left side. “You tried the musical route which is at the other end of the spectrum.” Writer Lady says holding her right hand out to the right side. “How about something in the middle?”

"I know." Tinkletoes says, “Singing Zombies. Let's re-make Thriller.”

“Shakespeare?” TP offers.

“What is completely unique to our Dobby cat? What does he have that no other cat has?”

Writer Lady, Tinkletoes and TP all look at Dobby. The ginger tabby is standing on stage watching Furnatche get his belly rubbed by Incognito.

“A baby dragon.” Dylan had wandered over to where Writer Lady was. “Dobby has a baby dragon to play with.”