chase draft one
i'll be damned if i go through and edit the format on lj;
though some significance will be lost you'll get the point
feedback. i'll email it in wps or watevs if u want.
“Sophie,” Culbert called as he brushed scraps of cat food off of his apron, “it’s dinner time, and you don’t wanna miss two-wheel Tuesday!” Two-Wheel Tuesday was Sophie’s most favorite thing to watch on TV, and Culbert made it extra special by making her most favorite food- Meow Mix Crustacean Crunch! Sophie just sits in front of the TV and watches the motor-cycles like mice. When they get really loud she gets scared and plays a joke on Culbert by climbing up the curtains and sliding down with her claws. That Sophie, what a practical joker!
Culbert looked all over his small studio apartment, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. He checked all of her favorite hiding spots: under the bed, behind the TV… heck, he even tried looking down the bathtub drain just to be sure. He bit his lip and tears started to swell in his eyes. He saw the open window and couldn’t help sobbing.
If only that mean old Ms. Guildenstein didn’t smoke outside of their a/c vent, he wouldn’t have to keep the window open. It made the whole apartment stink like cigarettes, and with no a/c the apartment was hotter than the time his mom left him in the car for an hour with the windows up. They got fed up one day and went outside to ask her nicely to stop smoking there.
“Ms. Guildenstein, me and Sophie were wondering if you could maybe stop smoking so many cigarettes by our a/c all day. It makes the house stink real bad and it would mean a lot to us,” Culbert asked while his knees wobbled like macaroni noodles.
“ I can smoke vwherever I vant seesy-boy,” the woman snarled as she flicked her cigarette at Sophie’s snow-white fur.
That night Sophie was so sad she didn’t even eat half of her Meow Mix Filet Meow, and passed on Wednesday night Scrabble going straight to bed.
“Oh Sophie,” said Culbert as he put on his left shoe, “don’t you worry I’m gonna come find you.” Panic struck like lightning when he realized he had no idea where his right shoe was. The prospect of two mysteries to solve worried him, but after a few minutes he found the shoe by Sophie’s litter box soaking wet. He lifted the shoe up to his nose and took a huge wiff. It smelt like cat pee alright… clumsy Sophie, she mistook Culbert’s shoe for her litter box again.
Culbert soaked the shoe in the bathtub and fastened the Velcro straps as fast as he could. He walked out front pondering how to look for Sophie. He could borrow Joey’s bike from down the street… but then he’d have to learn how to ride a bike first. That would take way too long. Sophie could be on a train to Nantucket by then!
He didn’t want to call his mom for her to drive him around because then she’d ask why he wasn’t at work. He still didn’t tell her he got fired from Starbucks last week. It was a shame too, they even let him hang up his paintings of Sophie until he’d get the money to open his own gallery. People laughed at them just like he and Sophie laughed at Garfield and Snoopy every single Sunday. It's weird how art works. That jerk in the seersucker suit who managed the Payless next-door said they were nice and asked whose kid's had painted them. What a buffoon! When his paintings make him rich he's going to buy that Payless and hang them all over the store for everyone to admire while they try on shoes for promotions, graduations, and weddings!
“It’s tough losing your only tap into the art world,” he explained to Sophie that night, “but sometimes you gotta burn bridges if you’re gonna climb mountains!”
With his mom’s car out of the question, he’d just have to cover less ground on foot. Lucky for him, he packed his fanny pack full of raisins and two Capri-Sun juice pouches. His apartment was only four blocks away from the beach, where he and Sophie went to the pier every Friday night. Sophie liked playing with baitfish in people’s buckets, and Culbert just flat-out got a kick out of seeing Sophie havin’ such a swell time.
Piercing the silver pouch with his straw, Culbert charged towards the beach under the soul-scorching sun. After the first block his right leg had a horrible cramp. His shoe was extra heavy because of the water. When his foot hit the ground the shoe moaned out “slish”, and when he picked it up it responded with “slosh”. Culbert slish-sloshed a few more steps until he managed to climb to the top of the bridge overlooking the inter-coastal. He looked down admiring the kaleidoscopic quality of the blue-green water dancing with the sunlight in the wake. “The only thing that could’ve made this better is if Sophie were here,” he mumbled before he blew his nose remorsefully on his shirt sleeve.
An inconsistent roaring interrupted his stare, and he looked up at a man mounted on a mighty vessel- a Triumph motorcycle straight out of World War Two. His weathered face looked as though it were widdled from a piece of driftwood. “Kingsly,” the man shouted through his sandy, grey beard over the sound of passing cars and idle of his bike, “almost didn’t reckenize ya ‘thout that cat a yers!”
“Sophie’s missing, Pelican Dan,” Culbert cried, “but I think she might be at the beach playing with fish.”
“Well hot damn, Kingsley, we gotta find that fee-line fore sun down,” Pelican Dan said in a voice as stern as the bolts of a submarine.
Pelican Dan addressed Culbert by his last name, deeming it a strong sea-faring name that could really take him places. The only places he ever went were with Sophie, and she liked the name Culbert just fine.
Culbert met Pelican Dan during his and Sophie’s first trip to the pier. Sophie was so excited she leapt from Culbert’s arms and ran all the way to the end of the pier. At the very end she slipped on some spilt chum and slid into the water. “SOPHIE,” Culbert screamed as he shuffled to look over the railing. Sophie could swim like an Olympian when they took baths together, but she proved no match for high tide, emerging back and fourth from the water like a bobber being nibbled on.
Aside from being deathly afraid of taking off his shirt in public, Culbert couldn’t swim. His eyes shot left and right in search of a flotation device to throw to poor Sophie. An older man sharing a chili-dog with a pelican took notice of Culbert’s anxiety, and decided to investigate.
“What’s the score ‘ere, lad?”
“So-phie is DROWWWNING,” Culbert explained pointing his flabby arm over the railing at the cat.
The man, with no time to spare, threw his tattered Guy Harvey tank top over his muscular shoulders revealing a tattoo of an enormous anchor on his hairy chest. Kicking aside his Bermuda shorts, he dove stark naked into the murky abyss with the grace of a bird. After minutes of battling the ruthless tides, he emerged holding Sophie by the collar with his teeth. Culbert cradled Sophie telling her how worried he was. The man introduced himself as Pelican Dan - protector of pelicans, friend of man.
Culbert didn’t know what to expect when the two took off down the bridge. “Look starboard, Kingsly,” Pelican Dan yelled against the wind, “I’ll search Portside!” Culbert looked straight up with his arms wrapped tightly around Pelican Dan. This was proving very hard to do; the sun was still out!
Sophie wasn’t anywhere near the pier. After hours of following Pelican Dan into countless bars where he thought she’d be, Culbert decided to call it quits and see if maybe Sophie was waiting at home. That’s it! She’s been home all day and silly Culbert has been out chasing her for nothing. “She’s probably starving by now,” Culbert thought out loud, “I’d better hurry home and feed her.”
When Culbert reached home the only thing there that wasn’t there when he left was a fresh pile of Virginia Slim cigarette butts. Culbert rushed to his answering machine to check for any messages Sophie might have left. “Wait,” he told himself, “Sophie wouldn’t have money for a payphone anyways.”
He awoke the next morning with the upper half of his body curled up in Sophie’s bed. Despite the countless tears he shed last night over it, it still smelt just like her. He got up from the floor and sat down on the couch. The same couch where just yesterday morning he was telling Sophie how much he loved her and what a good kitty she was, and at that moment he knew if she could talk she’d say “Culbert, you’re my favorite person in the whole-wide world!”
Pelican Dan cruised on his Triumph into the parking lot in front of Culbert’s house with a box hoisted under his burly, tanned arm. It was a month since he last saw Culbert, but the fresh signs stapled to the same telephone posts every other day told him that Sophie was still missing in action.
Culbert opened the door with bloodshot eyes and a face covered in stubble. His new job working for a friend of Pelican Dan, combined with his search for Sophie, drained every ounce of energy from him. All day he’d sweep up the remains of gutted fish. He’d walk home, shirt crusted with white salty lines draped across both sides like a poncho, only to be out until dark hanging up new signs in different places just in case.
“Got something’ for ya, Kingsley,” Pelican Dan said as he handed the box to an astonished Culbert.
“SOPHIE,” he screamed as he lowered the box to the floor.
“Well… not exactly. Names Audrey,” said Pelican Dan as a fiery orange cat darted across the floor. “Found’er outside the Elbow Room last night and knew you two were lookin’ fer the same thing.”
“I’m looking for Sophie! And she’s going to be very upset when she comes home and finds me playing with another cat,” Culbert yelled raising his hands to his face rocking back and fourth sobbing.
“Give ’er a chance, Kingsley,” Pelican Dan said as he patted Culbert on the back before leaving. “Lemme know ‘ow goes it when you two come to the pier next Friday.”
Culbert shut the door behind him and walked back to his desk to finish writing on his posters. Missing, he scribbled with an orange scented-marker under a rendition of the snowy feline, Answers to Sophie, likes blue cheese on chicken wings and… Culbert was interrupted from his work when Audrey leapt into his lap. “Aww you’re a very nice kitty,” he said, “Not like Sophie who packed up and left without even saying goodbye. Let’s get you some food, I bet you’re hungry!”
Culbert strapped on his apron and rummaged through Sophie’s part of the cupboard. He prepared an elaborate feast of Meow Mix’s Upstream Dream and Cluck-a-Doodle-Doo, put it in the microwave for four seconds, just the way Sophie liked it. He set the ceramic dish down, out of which Audrey ate ravenously.
After Audrey finished her meal, Culbert and her did all sorts of fun stuff. Audrey liked playing with Culbert’s kitty puppet show, but she accidentally broke one of the marionettes. No big deal, Sophie was clumsy too! “Look at this, Audrey,” Culbert said as he pulled a binder off of his bookshelf. He sat on the couch with her on his lap, and opened up the binder. “This is my stamp collection - oh - I wonder how this old thing got here,” he said, blushing, removing a photo of him and Sophie dressed as ghosts last Halloween. By this time Culbert had put all of his pictures of Sophie down and put them in the closet. There were so many the closet was full, so he kept his clothes draped over the TV. Watching TV reminded him of Sophie anyways.
“Aren’t these old stamps so neat,” he asked Audrey while stroking the back of her neck. He flipped the pages one by one, pointing out what the picture on each one meant and how much they were. “Excuse me, Audrey, I’ll get that,” he said as the phone rang on the other side of the room.
“Hello…Sophie, is that you?”
“No, sweetie, it’s mom.”
“Oh. Hi, mom.”
“I have a surprise for you, is it okay if I swing by Saturday morning?”
“Yeah! I got company now though, mom, I don’t wanna be rude.”
“Alright, sweetie, I’ll see you Saturday morning then.”
Culbert hung up the phone, opened the fridge and grabbed a juice box. He loved surprises, they used to be number two right behind Sophie. Used to be. “Audrey, I know this is a bit soon,” Culbert said turning from the fridge, “but I’m going to introduce you to my mom this weekend and tomor-OH NO, AUDREY!” The cat scraped violently, shredding the stamps by the dozen and basking in the shreds. Culbert boxed her back up, called the Humane Society, and left her outside without even answering the door when they came to get her. How could she do such a thing? Sophie used to love looking at all the stamps; she knew how to appreciate fine art!
Culbert tried desperately to paint all morning. Landscapes just weren’t the same without Sophie posing in them, but there’s no way he’d ever paint her again. Not after she pawed poor Culbert’s heart to shreds. He got up, washed the paint of off his fingers, and sat on the couch trying to piece together his once great stamp collection.
His door bell rang, and Culbert suddenly remembered- his surprise! He leapt off of the couch and raced towards the door to unlock it. In walked an older woman cradling a sleeping cat in her arms. “Isn’t she pretty, Culbert?” She was indeed beautiful, and the Cat’s shiny black fur was as soft as cotton on a spring morning. Culbert hadn’t felt this way since… well, Sophie. He held the sleeping cat in his arms and kissed it between its ears. “She’s very pretty,” Culbert proclaimed, “even prettier than Sophie! What’s her name?”
“Well, sweetie, you can name her anything you want really,” Culbert’s mother explained while brushing the black fur off of her blouse.
“I’ll call her Mona,” Culbert exclaimed as he set the sleeping cat down in Sophie’s bed.
“Okay, well I’ll give you two some time to get acquainted, mommy’s got some errands to run anyhow.”
Mona slept all that afternoon. “Mona, why are you so sleepy? It’s already dinner time and we haven’t done anything,” Culbert told the sleeping cat. It was getting close to dinner, so he fixed Mona some Upstream Dream and set the dish next to the bed. Mona crawled towards the food and began eating very slowly. “Good girl,” Culbert said as he reached out to pet her. “RAAOOWWRRR,” the cat screamed as it clawed at Culbert, cutting open his hand.
“Mona that’s not very nice,” he said holding his wounded hand, “you are a very cranky kitty! But I guess I’ll leave you alone until you wake up more.”
Mona finished her food, and Culbert called her to the couch. “Mona, come be a good kitty and sit by me. I put in the Aristocats, one of Sophie’s…I mean my favorite movies.” Mona strolled over to the couch, jumped on Culbert’s lap, and pissed all over it. “AWW Mona what are you doing?! I’m not a litter box,” Culbert screamed frantically tossing the cat off of his lap. Mona took one more look back at a soaked Culbert and went back to bed.
She lucked out because she was so cute. There was no way Culbert could throw a cat of her status out on the street. Scrubbing his couch with Windex, he decided to give Mona a little bit more time to get adjusted to her new surroundings. After all, when Culbert moved into this place he wet the bed three nights in a row, so he could relate to Mona’s nervous situation.
The next morning excited Culbert, because the Sunday paper is always chalk-full of neat things to look at. He walked out front in his pajamas and plucked the news paper from the overgrown grass that it rested in. He filtered out all of the boring things - Local, National, International, and Business. He threw them away and brought the good parts, namely advertisements and comics, inside.
“Mona,” he called across the fifteen-foot span of his apartment, “let’s read Garfield and eat some breakfast.” Mona didn’t even budge, and her Meow Mix Deep Sea Delight was already getting cold. Culbert walked over to Mona, got down on his hands and knees, and patted her behind her ears. The cat purred slightly, and seemed somewhat aggravated. “Come on, Mona, stop bein’ such a sour-puss,” Culbert said as he lowered his face to give Mona a kiss. Hissing loudly, Mona’s paw scratched Culbert’s nose with a streak of three bad cuts.
“BAD KITTY,” he yelled, trying to restrain himself from violence and keep the composure of a gentleman. He blew off some steam by sobbing in the bathroom, cleaning the blood off of his nose. “She has to go,” he said, spraying Bactine on his face and partly in his eyes, “she’s just too high maintenance and no fun.”
When Culbert returned into the room, Mona was sleeping peacefully. He threw a blanket over her, and picked up the bed. “That’s enough out of you,” he proclaimed, “you’re going back to Mom’s house where you came from!” He tipped the bed over, spilling Mona into one of Sophie’s old play boxes and sealed it shut. Of course right afterwards he poked some air holes in the top of the box. “You’re not a bad guy,” he told himself, “you just get mixed up with the wrong cats.”
It’s not like Culbert gave up on cats completely after those mishaps. There were different strays here and there, usually ones that Pelican Dan would find. None of them lasted more than a few days.
There was Veronica, who frankly was so big and fat Culbert couldn’t keep up with feeding her. Shortly after came Charlene. Charlene had gorgeous blue eyes, Culbert took to her well. It turns out she had fleas, and Culbert finally saw her for the street trash that she really was. Some would stay the night for a meal and leave the next morning, and there came a point where Culbert grew to accept the fact that there would be no replacement for Sophie.
Walking home one afternoon from work, he caught sight of a pretty nice looking cat eating with her tail sticking straight up in the air. “I remember when Sophie used to eat like that,” he said to himself picking fish scales from underneath his fingernails. As Culbert got further up the street, the cat took notice of him and turned around. “Oh my,” he said freezing in his tracks. His entire body felt the tremendous pain as he trembled to his knees on the scorching hot asphalt. Sophie looked away and walked through the propped open screen door.
Culbert’s couldn’t think. He didn’t want to. The realization was far too much for him to bear. He raised himself to his feet, and walked down the street towards home. Sophie had torn him to pieces before this, and now there was nothing left. Sure, he cried. Who wouldn’t? He sat in bed for the next two days.
Worried about Culbert missing work, Pelican Dan decided he should go and check on the boy and see if he was okay. After dismounting his Triumph, he tipped his captain’s hat at the old smoker with a yellow smile and walked towards the door. He knocked on the locked door for a few minutes. After hearing no stir from inside, he let himself in through the open window.
“Kingsly,” he called.
“P-Pelican Dan,” Culbert asked peering up from the couch, “I’m sorry I missed work, I felt sick.
“Best thing for scurvy er fresh air and citrus, boy. Let’s get ya some food too.”
“I saw Sophie last night… at a house down the street,” Culbert sobbed as he propped himself up in his sweat encrusted clothes from the other day.
“I see. Food an’ fine drink then,” Pelican Dan said as he helped him to his feet.
Culbert woke up around noon, since Pelican Dan was nice enough to convince his friend to give him another day off work. He had a bit of a headache, but what else would he expect after drinking two whole beers. He felt much better after talking all night with Pelican Dan. He was so wise, and plus he paid for everything which was mighty kind of him.
Culbert decided today he was going to clean out his apartment for his brand-new life. He filled trash bag after trash bag. Paintings, pictures, toys… none of it could stay. He refused to keep anything that even faintly reminded him of her. It took most of the day, and fifteen trash bags later his house was practically empty.
To make it final, he even swept the entire floor free of the white ivory fur that once decorated periodic spots on the floor. He hadn’t cleaned since she left, hoping her scent wouldn’t leave the house until she came back. He swept up the last bit of it, and poured it into the thrash can. For a minute he thought he could even hear her pawing at the door. “Wait,” he said listening harder, “someone is at the door.”
He opened the door broom in hand, and it turned out to be no one after all. As he pulled the door shut a majestic sound rang in his ears that he hadn’t heard in ages. “Meeowwwrrr,” Sophie called looking up at Culbert with her ravishing green eyes. She had lost none of her glamour during her absence, and her milky white fur still radiated shear elegance.
“Sophie…you’re back.”
“Meowr,” she replied walking towards the door.
“Well get the heck outa here,” Culbert said as he cocked back the broom and swatted the cat from the porch with an unforgiving swing, “I don’t cater to strays anymore.”
Sophie stood where she fell and continued to gaze at the balding, middle-aged man waving the broom manically. “Go on, SHOO!” Sophie turned away and Culbert slammed the door with a smile on his face. Pelican Dan’s words from last night played once more through his head - “Kingsly, thar’s more ta life than chasin’ pussy.”
though some significance will be lost you'll get the point
feedback. i'll email it in wps or watevs if u want.
“Sophie,” Culbert called as he brushed scraps of cat food off of his apron, “it’s dinner time, and you don’t wanna miss two-wheel Tuesday!” Two-Wheel Tuesday was Sophie’s most favorite thing to watch on TV, and Culbert made it extra special by making her most favorite food- Meow Mix Crustacean Crunch! Sophie just sits in front of the TV and watches the motor-cycles like mice. When they get really loud she gets scared and plays a joke on Culbert by climbing up the curtains and sliding down with her claws. That Sophie, what a practical joker!
Culbert looked all over his small studio apartment, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. He checked all of her favorite hiding spots: under the bed, behind the TV… heck, he even tried looking down the bathtub drain just to be sure. He bit his lip and tears started to swell in his eyes. He saw the open window and couldn’t help sobbing.
If only that mean old Ms. Guildenstein didn’t smoke outside of their a/c vent, he wouldn’t have to keep the window open. It made the whole apartment stink like cigarettes, and with no a/c the apartment was hotter than the time his mom left him in the car for an hour with the windows up. They got fed up one day and went outside to ask her nicely to stop smoking there.
“Ms. Guildenstein, me and Sophie were wondering if you could maybe stop smoking so many cigarettes by our a/c all day. It makes the house stink real bad and it would mean a lot to us,” Culbert asked while his knees wobbled like macaroni noodles.
“ I can smoke vwherever I vant seesy-boy,” the woman snarled as she flicked her cigarette at Sophie’s snow-white fur.
That night Sophie was so sad she didn’t even eat half of her Meow Mix Filet Meow, and passed on Wednesday night Scrabble going straight to bed.
“Oh Sophie,” said Culbert as he put on his left shoe, “don’t you worry I’m gonna come find you.” Panic struck like lightning when he realized he had no idea where his right shoe was. The prospect of two mysteries to solve worried him, but after a few minutes he found the shoe by Sophie’s litter box soaking wet. He lifted the shoe up to his nose and took a huge wiff. It smelt like cat pee alright… clumsy Sophie, she mistook Culbert’s shoe for her litter box again.
Culbert soaked the shoe in the bathtub and fastened the Velcro straps as fast as he could. He walked out front pondering how to look for Sophie. He could borrow Joey’s bike from down the street… but then he’d have to learn how to ride a bike first. That would take way too long. Sophie could be on a train to Nantucket by then!
He didn’t want to call his mom for her to drive him around because then she’d ask why he wasn’t at work. He still didn’t tell her he got fired from Starbucks last week. It was a shame too, they even let him hang up his paintings of Sophie until he’d get the money to open his own gallery. People laughed at them just like he and Sophie laughed at Garfield and Snoopy every single Sunday. It's weird how art works. That jerk in the seersucker suit who managed the Payless next-door said they were nice and asked whose kid's had painted them. What a buffoon! When his paintings make him rich he's going to buy that Payless and hang them all over the store for everyone to admire while they try on shoes for promotions, graduations, and weddings!
“It’s tough losing your only tap into the art world,” he explained to Sophie that night, “but sometimes you gotta burn bridges if you’re gonna climb mountains!”
With his mom’s car out of the question, he’d just have to cover less ground on foot. Lucky for him, he packed his fanny pack full of raisins and two Capri-Sun juice pouches. His apartment was only four blocks away from the beach, where he and Sophie went to the pier every Friday night. Sophie liked playing with baitfish in people’s buckets, and Culbert just flat-out got a kick out of seeing Sophie havin’ such a swell time.
Piercing the silver pouch with his straw, Culbert charged towards the beach under the soul-scorching sun. After the first block his right leg had a horrible cramp. His shoe was extra heavy because of the water. When his foot hit the ground the shoe moaned out “slish”, and when he picked it up it responded with “slosh”. Culbert slish-sloshed a few more steps until he managed to climb to the top of the bridge overlooking the inter-coastal. He looked down admiring the kaleidoscopic quality of the blue-green water dancing with the sunlight in the wake. “The only thing that could’ve made this better is if Sophie were here,” he mumbled before he blew his nose remorsefully on his shirt sleeve.
An inconsistent roaring interrupted his stare, and he looked up at a man mounted on a mighty vessel- a Triumph motorcycle straight out of World War Two. His weathered face looked as though it were widdled from a piece of driftwood. “Kingsly,” the man shouted through his sandy, grey beard over the sound of passing cars and idle of his bike, “almost didn’t reckenize ya ‘thout that cat a yers!”
“Sophie’s missing, Pelican Dan,” Culbert cried, “but I think she might be at the beach playing with fish.”
“Well hot damn, Kingsley, we gotta find that fee-line fore sun down,” Pelican Dan said in a voice as stern as the bolts of a submarine.
Pelican Dan addressed Culbert by his last name, deeming it a strong sea-faring name that could really take him places. The only places he ever went were with Sophie, and she liked the name Culbert just fine.
Culbert met Pelican Dan during his and Sophie’s first trip to the pier. Sophie was so excited she leapt from Culbert’s arms and ran all the way to the end of the pier. At the very end she slipped on some spilt chum and slid into the water. “SOPHIE,” Culbert screamed as he shuffled to look over the railing. Sophie could swim like an Olympian when they took baths together, but she proved no match for high tide, emerging back and fourth from the water like a bobber being nibbled on.
Aside from being deathly afraid of taking off his shirt in public, Culbert couldn’t swim. His eyes shot left and right in search of a flotation device to throw to poor Sophie. An older man sharing a chili-dog with a pelican took notice of Culbert’s anxiety, and decided to investigate.
“What’s the score ‘ere, lad?”
“So-phie is DROWWWNING,” Culbert explained pointing his flabby arm over the railing at the cat.
The man, with no time to spare, threw his tattered Guy Harvey tank top over his muscular shoulders revealing a tattoo of an enormous anchor on his hairy chest. Kicking aside his Bermuda shorts, he dove stark naked into the murky abyss with the grace of a bird. After minutes of battling the ruthless tides, he emerged holding Sophie by the collar with his teeth. Culbert cradled Sophie telling her how worried he was. The man introduced himself as Pelican Dan - protector of pelicans, friend of man.
Culbert didn’t know what to expect when the two took off down the bridge. “Look starboard, Kingsly,” Pelican Dan yelled against the wind, “I’ll search Portside!” Culbert looked straight up with his arms wrapped tightly around Pelican Dan. This was proving very hard to do; the sun was still out!
Sophie wasn’t anywhere near the pier. After hours of following Pelican Dan into countless bars where he thought she’d be, Culbert decided to call it quits and see if maybe Sophie was waiting at home. That’s it! She’s been home all day and silly Culbert has been out chasing her for nothing. “She’s probably starving by now,” Culbert thought out loud, “I’d better hurry home and feed her.”
When Culbert reached home the only thing there that wasn’t there when he left was a fresh pile of Virginia Slim cigarette butts. Culbert rushed to his answering machine to check for any messages Sophie might have left. “Wait,” he told himself, “Sophie wouldn’t have money for a payphone anyways.”
He awoke the next morning with the upper half of his body curled up in Sophie’s bed. Despite the countless tears he shed last night over it, it still smelt just like her. He got up from the floor and sat down on the couch. The same couch where just yesterday morning he was telling Sophie how much he loved her and what a good kitty she was, and at that moment he knew if she could talk she’d say “Culbert, you’re my favorite person in the whole-wide world!”
Pelican Dan cruised on his Triumph into the parking lot in front of Culbert’s house with a box hoisted under his burly, tanned arm. It was a month since he last saw Culbert, but the fresh signs stapled to the same telephone posts every other day told him that Sophie was still missing in action.
Culbert opened the door with bloodshot eyes and a face covered in stubble. His new job working for a friend of Pelican Dan, combined with his search for Sophie, drained every ounce of energy from him. All day he’d sweep up the remains of gutted fish. He’d walk home, shirt crusted with white salty lines draped across both sides like a poncho, only to be out until dark hanging up new signs in different places just in case.
“Got something’ for ya, Kingsley,” Pelican Dan said as he handed the box to an astonished Culbert.
“SOPHIE,” he screamed as he lowered the box to the floor.
“Well… not exactly. Names Audrey,” said Pelican Dan as a fiery orange cat darted across the floor. “Found’er outside the Elbow Room last night and knew you two were lookin’ fer the same thing.”
“I’m looking for Sophie! And she’s going to be very upset when she comes home and finds me playing with another cat,” Culbert yelled raising his hands to his face rocking back and fourth sobbing.
“Give ’er a chance, Kingsley,” Pelican Dan said as he patted Culbert on the back before leaving. “Lemme know ‘ow goes it when you two come to the pier next Friday.”
Culbert shut the door behind him and walked back to his desk to finish writing on his posters. Missing, he scribbled with an orange scented-marker under a rendition of the snowy feline, Answers to Sophie, likes blue cheese on chicken wings and… Culbert was interrupted from his work when Audrey leapt into his lap. “Aww you’re a very nice kitty,” he said, “Not like Sophie who packed up and left without even saying goodbye. Let’s get you some food, I bet you’re hungry!”
Culbert strapped on his apron and rummaged through Sophie’s part of the cupboard. He prepared an elaborate feast of Meow Mix’s Upstream Dream and Cluck-a-Doodle-Doo, put it in the microwave for four seconds, just the way Sophie liked it. He set the ceramic dish down, out of which Audrey ate ravenously.
After Audrey finished her meal, Culbert and her did all sorts of fun stuff. Audrey liked playing with Culbert’s kitty puppet show, but she accidentally broke one of the marionettes. No big deal, Sophie was clumsy too! “Look at this, Audrey,” Culbert said as he pulled a binder off of his bookshelf. He sat on the couch with her on his lap, and opened up the binder. “This is my stamp collection - oh - I wonder how this old thing got here,” he said, blushing, removing a photo of him and Sophie dressed as ghosts last Halloween. By this time Culbert had put all of his pictures of Sophie down and put them in the closet. There were so many the closet was full, so he kept his clothes draped over the TV. Watching TV reminded him of Sophie anyways.
“Aren’t these old stamps so neat,” he asked Audrey while stroking the back of her neck. He flipped the pages one by one, pointing out what the picture on each one meant and how much they were. “Excuse me, Audrey, I’ll get that,” he said as the phone rang on the other side of the room.
“Hello…Sophie, is that you?”
“No, sweetie, it’s mom.”
“Oh. Hi, mom.”
“I have a surprise for you, is it okay if I swing by Saturday morning?”
“Yeah! I got company now though, mom, I don’t wanna be rude.”
“Alright, sweetie, I’ll see you Saturday morning then.”
Culbert hung up the phone, opened the fridge and grabbed a juice box. He loved surprises, they used to be number two right behind Sophie. Used to be. “Audrey, I know this is a bit soon,” Culbert said turning from the fridge, “but I’m going to introduce you to my mom this weekend and tomor-OH NO, AUDREY!” The cat scraped violently, shredding the stamps by the dozen and basking in the shreds. Culbert boxed her back up, called the Humane Society, and left her outside without even answering the door when they came to get her. How could she do such a thing? Sophie used to love looking at all the stamps; she knew how to appreciate fine art!
Culbert tried desperately to paint all morning. Landscapes just weren’t the same without Sophie posing in them, but there’s no way he’d ever paint her again. Not after she pawed poor Culbert’s heart to shreds. He got up, washed the paint of off his fingers, and sat on the couch trying to piece together his once great stamp collection.
His door bell rang, and Culbert suddenly remembered- his surprise! He leapt off of the couch and raced towards the door to unlock it. In walked an older woman cradling a sleeping cat in her arms. “Isn’t she pretty, Culbert?” She was indeed beautiful, and the Cat’s shiny black fur was as soft as cotton on a spring morning. Culbert hadn’t felt this way since… well, Sophie. He held the sleeping cat in his arms and kissed it between its ears. “She’s very pretty,” Culbert proclaimed, “even prettier than Sophie! What’s her name?”
“Well, sweetie, you can name her anything you want really,” Culbert’s mother explained while brushing the black fur off of her blouse.
“I’ll call her Mona,” Culbert exclaimed as he set the sleeping cat down in Sophie’s bed.
“Okay, well I’ll give you two some time to get acquainted, mommy’s got some errands to run anyhow.”
Mona slept all that afternoon. “Mona, why are you so sleepy? It’s already dinner time and we haven’t done anything,” Culbert told the sleeping cat. It was getting close to dinner, so he fixed Mona some Upstream Dream and set the dish next to the bed. Mona crawled towards the food and began eating very slowly. “Good girl,” Culbert said as he reached out to pet her. “RAAOOWWRRR,” the cat screamed as it clawed at Culbert, cutting open his hand.
“Mona that’s not very nice,” he said holding his wounded hand, “you are a very cranky kitty! But I guess I’ll leave you alone until you wake up more.”
Mona finished her food, and Culbert called her to the couch. “Mona, come be a good kitty and sit by me. I put in the Aristocats, one of Sophie’s…I mean my favorite movies.” Mona strolled over to the couch, jumped on Culbert’s lap, and pissed all over it. “AWW Mona what are you doing?! I’m not a litter box,” Culbert screamed frantically tossing the cat off of his lap. Mona took one more look back at a soaked Culbert and went back to bed.
She lucked out because she was so cute. There was no way Culbert could throw a cat of her status out on the street. Scrubbing his couch with Windex, he decided to give Mona a little bit more time to get adjusted to her new surroundings. After all, when Culbert moved into this place he wet the bed three nights in a row, so he could relate to Mona’s nervous situation.
The next morning excited Culbert, because the Sunday paper is always chalk-full of neat things to look at. He walked out front in his pajamas and plucked the news paper from the overgrown grass that it rested in. He filtered out all of the boring things - Local, National, International, and Business. He threw them away and brought the good parts, namely advertisements and comics, inside.
“Mona,” he called across the fifteen-foot span of his apartment, “let’s read Garfield and eat some breakfast.” Mona didn’t even budge, and her Meow Mix Deep Sea Delight was already getting cold. Culbert walked over to Mona, got down on his hands and knees, and patted her behind her ears. The cat purred slightly, and seemed somewhat aggravated. “Come on, Mona, stop bein’ such a sour-puss,” Culbert said as he lowered his face to give Mona a kiss. Hissing loudly, Mona’s paw scratched Culbert’s nose with a streak of three bad cuts.
“BAD KITTY,” he yelled, trying to restrain himself from violence and keep the composure of a gentleman. He blew off some steam by sobbing in the bathroom, cleaning the blood off of his nose. “She has to go,” he said, spraying Bactine on his face and partly in his eyes, “she’s just too high maintenance and no fun.”
When Culbert returned into the room, Mona was sleeping peacefully. He threw a blanket over her, and picked up the bed. “That’s enough out of you,” he proclaimed, “you’re going back to Mom’s house where you came from!” He tipped the bed over, spilling Mona into one of Sophie’s old play boxes and sealed it shut. Of course right afterwards he poked some air holes in the top of the box. “You’re not a bad guy,” he told himself, “you just get mixed up with the wrong cats.”
It’s not like Culbert gave up on cats completely after those mishaps. There were different strays here and there, usually ones that Pelican Dan would find. None of them lasted more than a few days.
There was Veronica, who frankly was so big and fat Culbert couldn’t keep up with feeding her. Shortly after came Charlene. Charlene had gorgeous blue eyes, Culbert took to her well. It turns out she had fleas, and Culbert finally saw her for the street trash that she really was. Some would stay the night for a meal and leave the next morning, and there came a point where Culbert grew to accept the fact that there would be no replacement for Sophie.
Walking home one afternoon from work, he caught sight of a pretty nice looking cat eating with her tail sticking straight up in the air. “I remember when Sophie used to eat like that,” he said to himself picking fish scales from underneath his fingernails. As Culbert got further up the street, the cat took notice of him and turned around. “Oh my,” he said freezing in his tracks. His entire body felt the tremendous pain as he trembled to his knees on the scorching hot asphalt. Sophie looked away and walked through the propped open screen door.
Culbert’s couldn’t think. He didn’t want to. The realization was far too much for him to bear. He raised himself to his feet, and walked down the street towards home. Sophie had torn him to pieces before this, and now there was nothing left. Sure, he cried. Who wouldn’t? He sat in bed for the next two days.
Worried about Culbert missing work, Pelican Dan decided he should go and check on the boy and see if he was okay. After dismounting his Triumph, he tipped his captain’s hat at the old smoker with a yellow smile and walked towards the door. He knocked on the locked door for a few minutes. After hearing no stir from inside, he let himself in through the open window.
“Kingsly,” he called.
“P-Pelican Dan,” Culbert asked peering up from the couch, “I’m sorry I missed work, I felt sick.
“Best thing for scurvy er fresh air and citrus, boy. Let’s get ya some food too.”
“I saw Sophie last night… at a house down the street,” Culbert sobbed as he propped himself up in his sweat encrusted clothes from the other day.
“I see. Food an’ fine drink then,” Pelican Dan said as he helped him to his feet.
Culbert woke up around noon, since Pelican Dan was nice enough to convince his friend to give him another day off work. He had a bit of a headache, but what else would he expect after drinking two whole beers. He felt much better after talking all night with Pelican Dan. He was so wise, and plus he paid for everything which was mighty kind of him.
Culbert decided today he was going to clean out his apartment for his brand-new life. He filled trash bag after trash bag. Paintings, pictures, toys… none of it could stay. He refused to keep anything that even faintly reminded him of her. It took most of the day, and fifteen trash bags later his house was practically empty.
To make it final, he even swept the entire floor free of the white ivory fur that once decorated periodic spots on the floor. He hadn’t cleaned since she left, hoping her scent wouldn’t leave the house until she came back. He swept up the last bit of it, and poured it into the thrash can. For a minute he thought he could even hear her pawing at the door. “Wait,” he said listening harder, “someone is at the door.”
He opened the door broom in hand, and it turned out to be no one after all. As he pulled the door shut a majestic sound rang in his ears that he hadn’t heard in ages. “Meeowwwrrr,” Sophie called looking up at Culbert with her ravishing green eyes. She had lost none of her glamour during her absence, and her milky white fur still radiated shear elegance.
“Sophie…you’re back.”
“Meowr,” she replied walking towards the door.
“Well get the heck outa here,” Culbert said as he cocked back the broom and swatted the cat from the porch with an unforgiving swing, “I don’t cater to strays anymore.”
Sophie stood where she fell and continued to gaze at the balding, middle-aged man waving the broom manically. “Go on, SHOO!” Sophie turned away and Culbert slammed the door with a smile on his face. Pelican Dan’s words from last night played once more through his head - “Kingsly, thar’s more ta life than chasin’ pussy.”