Today: Part Three. Have you read One and Two? Well why not?! Scoot back there, we'll wait here, and I'll have coffee ready by the time you get back.
Go on now!
“I have ensconced myself in the corner booth. Such a beautiful place: cut-glass chandeliers, diamond-tufted upholstered booths in blood-red leather, dark wood and dim lights. And the cats? Sleek, elegant felines from the best families – and the worst.”
Go on now!
“I have ensconced myself in the corner booth. Such a beautiful place: cut-glass chandeliers, diamond-tufted upholstered booths in blood-red leather, dark wood and dim lights. And the cats? Sleek, elegant felines from the best families – and the worst.”
Liza Bean Bitey, of the Minneapolis Biteys, ignoring the plate of canned cat food, jumps from
the table to the ground, beckons
me with a jerk of her chin. I follow her
into the living room. I take a seat on
the couch as she settles onto the coffee table directly in front of me.
“The thing one must remember about a cat bar is that
manners are the key to a roomful of cats behaving themselves. One’s
clothing, one’s demeanor, one’s choice of words is paramount.” Liza Bean
lifts a front paw, extends her claws, one by one, narrowing her bright green
eyes. “Without manners, it all comes
apart very quickly.”
“In an establishment catering to those of the feline
persuasion,” she continues, “one is polite. Unless, of course, one wishes
to fight.”
She smiles at me, tiny, pointed teeth glistening in the dim
light of the afternoon’s fading sun. “Sometimes, one wishes to fight.”
She sets her paw down.
“The place is called The Nip and The Saucer,” she
continues. “The clientele are primarily well-to-do, well-groomed.
It isn’t a cheap place to spend the evening, and this is no accident.”
The cat pulls a tiny flask from somewhere, takes a
swallow, passes it to me. I lift it to
my nose: gin, and, from the smell of
things, limes. I take a swig, pass it
back, whereupon it promptly disappears.
“I am sharing the booth with Pupples Old Bean and Lucky –
you remember them, don’t you?”
I nod. Pupples Old
Bean, a scrawny, twitchy alley cat with the nervous habits and fashion sense of
a young Art Carne, a cat I will forever picture perched, mid-winter, on the
massive engine block of a 2003 Cadillac Deville hurtling its way toward the
airport, per local legend. Stumpy “Lucky”
Strikes, drummer for Liza Bean’s current band “Squeak Toy”, a rhythmically
gifted animal with cats and kittens in every club in the U.S and most often
seen sporting a shirt that says “You ARE the father”.
I close my eyes, nodding.
Liza Bean laughs. “Let’s
not judge now,” she says.
At that, the flask reappears, whereupon we toast each
other: Your Health.
“I am sitting in the booth, squeezing a fourth lime wedge
into my gin and tonic, when there is a stir from the bar. There is a Russian Blue – I can’t remember
her name – with an empty drink in her hand.
From the look of it, she has just thrown it into the face of – well,
just the most interesting cat I’d ever seen.”
She looks at me. “Have
you ever known that you absolutely must meet someone?”
Our eyes meet. “I have.”
“His name is Juan Diego,” she says. “Juan Diego de la Patas Oro.”
Liza Bean drinks from her flask, passes it to me; and I
rise, absentmindedly – did I have dinner yet? – in search of gin and limes.
21 comments:
So Liza's met a little golden pawed man...errr cat...I need some more guac. Can you please pass the guac, Pearl? This is gonna be good.
Shelly, "of the golden paws". :-)
Guacamole, coming up!
Ohgawds, Liza Bean, tell me you're fixed... and also? Leather booths at a cat bar? Tres brave.
Wow. Liza Bean is really opening up to you, Pearl. She must be in lurrrve for sure!
My guess is she's gotten herself in some kind of financial mess with the hot stud and needs Pearl to bail her out or otherwise get even.
It would be fun to spend a night out with Liza Bean, but I'm sure I wouldn't remember anything.
Oh, I KNOW where this is heading ... don't I?
Hurry up, I'm havin' kittens over here!
Hari OM
Oh for the love of Pete, tell me you at least made some toast... the guac needs it.
pitter patas. YAM xx
Have I had dinner yet? Someone is well on the way to Looped.
I could learn Spanish from your cat (gatta).
Do you think Juan ever met One Ton Tomato?
http://youtu.be/gKYOVjrQ2gs
Aha! That mysterious stranger Juan Diego appears! Love it, Pearl. :)
Oh Liza Bean! What have you gotten yourself into?!
BTW Pearl, it's snowing for real here. We, of course, do not know what to do with ourselves.
oo la...of the golden paws...that sounds like promise....smiles...
and absolutely on knowing i must meet someone...smiles.
and love the way you tell a story pearl..its engaging
You certainly do have a way with words, I can't resist when you start weaving the yarn,
And where is the coffee? Had to go and put the kettle on myself...
Still - the cat has taste - lime - but not always in other cats...
Juan is not to be trusted, but Liza Bean can handle him.. Oh yes, Liza Bean can handle him well.
I too have a LOT of faith in Liza Bean. And share my home with a cat who usually wants to fight. Me.
Liza Bean certainly knows how to tell her tale, she has me very intrigued.
A wonderful story.
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