Hello nice, people!
IF
ANIMALS COULD SPEAK:
A
Special DON’T BUY MY BOOK visit
“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.”
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.
