BEANIE-BEAN AND HAIR BALL-DON'T BUY MY BOOK

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IF ANIMALS COULD SPEAK:

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“If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much.”

– Mark Twain

One fateful day, an impossibly large house cat walked into Shelly Arkon’s front room right up to where Hair Ball and Beanie-Bean were lounging at the foot of the stairs.

Hair Ball took one look at the cat, whose dark fur was blacker than any politician’s heart, and said to Beanie-Bean.

“You left the doggy door open again, didn’t you?”

“Hey!  You can’t lock the darn thing.  Don’t blame me.”

The “cat” whose name was Macak purred, “Do not like cats?  How about my true form?”

Hair Ball hurt his neck looking up at the changing feline who now towered over them, licking its lips, and quaked, “Cats are just fine!”

Beanie-Bean snickered, “If you cook them just right.”

Hair Ball gave his friend a look that Custer must have gotten very tired of in that surprise party the Sioux threw him.

Macak studied Hair Ball.  “General Custer did not die in the parallel dimension from which I have just come.  He sailed in the clouds with my young charge, 11 year old Nicola Tesla, aboard the first Air/Steamship, Xanadu, in 1867.”

Beanie-Bean snorted, “You don’t look 149 years old, but I guess all that face fur hides the wrinkles, right?”

Macak showed its teeth.  “I do not age as you think of age.”

Hair Ball whispered in a hiss, “And I would like to age a little more, Bean, so zippa the lippas!”

Trying to desperately change the subject, Hair Ball asked, “What were the three of you doing aboard a flying boat?”

“We were accompanying the newlyweds, the cursed Texas Ranger, Samuel McCord, and the alien empress, Meilori Shinseen, along with Mark Twain, the insane Abraham Lincoln, and the vampire, Benjamin Franklin.”

“Vampire!” yelped Hair Ball.

“Oh, Pooey!” snickered Beanie-Bean.  “We could out-run silly old vampires.”

Macak raised a mocking eye-brow.  “Really?  Perhaps I should introduce the two of you to others we met aboard the Xanadu –

Like the Rougarou, the Werewolves of Paris, or the Soyoko, evolved raptors.”

Hair Ball was shaking so that his skin was about to jump off his skeleton and do the Mambo with it.

“No!  We’re really shy.  Stick-in-the-mud homebodies!”

“Oh, the Germanic Dragons and the Celestial Dragons of Chin that we also met could fly over for a visit.”

“Chin?” frowned Beanie-Bean.

“Yes, what China is called by its natives in the dimension from which I spring.  In fact, Qing Long even now resides beneath San Francisco, where in the not-too-distant future, he will trigger the San Andreas earthquake.”

“What?” squeaked Hair Ball.

“Yes,” sighed Macak.  “He triggered the 1904 San Francisco earthquake as a direct result of McCord’s actions in 1867.”

“We have to stop him!” sputtered Beanie-Bean.

Macak purred evilly, “I could take you to him to let you ask him not to do so.  Your audacity might strike him as amusing, and he might let you live.”

Hair Ball gulped, “That would be nice of him.”

Macak continued, “Long enough to realize the utter folly of bearding him in his den.”

Even Beanie-Bean was shaken, and he turned to Hair Ball, “Cancel our flight to San Francisco!”

Macak smiled coldly, “McCord met Captain Nemo in 1867 as well.  I might ask him to take you there courtesy of the Nautilus.”

Hair Ball furiously shook his head NO!  “Ah, Bean here, is allergic to water.  He even gets the bends when Mommie gives him a bath!”

Beanie-Bean protested, “Hey, that’s you!”

Hair Ball muttered, “I knew it was one of us.”

Beanie-Bean scowled up at Macak.  “Any pretty two legged’s in that Xanadu like Mommie?”

Macak nodded.  “There is the daughter of Lord Byron, Ada Lady Lovelace, and the infamous courtesan, Cora Pearl.”

Hair Ball smiled, “They probably would like us … at least me that is.”

Macak smiled his skull smile.  “They are both undead, of course.”

“Yeep!” went both Hair Ball and Beanie-Bean.

From their left came a man’s voice, “Macak, you little minx, stop scaring the nice little doggies.”

A tall, slender man with thick white hair, dressed in a tuxedo, shook his long right forefinger at the now normal cat-looking Macak.  “I am Nicola Tesla and Macak loves to be naughty.”

Hair Ball grumbled, “Is that what you call scaring the poop out of us?”

Nicola sighed, “I had so wanted to meet your Shelly Arkon, but the longer I live, the more I do not get what I wish.  Good-bye, Doggies.”

And with that, both he and Macak disappeared.  Hair Ball turned to Beanie-Bean.  “I can’t take you anywhere.”

Beanie protested, “But we didn’t go anywhere!”

Hair Ball said, “And see what trouble you still caused!”

Beanie buried his long nose in his front paws to sleep and hopefully dream of Macak munching on Hair Ball.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR  

Roland Yeomans was born in Detroit, Michigan.  But his last memories of that city are hub-caps and kneecaps since, at the age of seven, he followed the free food when his parents moved to Lafayette, Louisiana.  The hitch-hiking after their speeding car from state to state was a real adventure.  Once in Louisiana, Roland learned strange new ways of pronouncing David and Richard when they were last names.  And it was not a pleasant sight when he pronounced Comeaux for the first time.

He has a Bachelor’s degree in English Education and a Master’s degree in Psychology.  He has been a teacher, counselor, book store owner, and even a pirate since he once worked at a tax preparation firm.

So far he has written thirty-four books.  You can find Roland at his web page: www.rolandyeomans.blogspot.com  or at his private table in Meilori’s.  The web page is safer to visit.  But if you insist on visiting Meilori’s, bring a friend who runs slower than you.

http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/

www.amazon.com/author/rolandyeomans