The Library Sequence - Part 2
- As I was saying before this turned into a dreary, maniacal political blog... I was at the library on 6th Ave. in treacherous Park Slope, pretending to read magazines, searching for my former roommate Debbie's cat Oasis. Debbie is laid up at the local Methodist Hospital still--for months, it seems. In the wake of Debbie’s absence, Oasis’ bladder problems began tinkling out of control. My mind was on the brink. He drove me to write poetry! Since he wasn’t my cat in the first place, I tried to get someone to adopt him. When no one stepped up to shoulder the burden of this heavy cross, I sentenced the fleabag to death row. On what was to be the last day he would breathe, the online community pleaded that I give him one more chance at living. Some people threatened karmic retribution. Others volunteered to beat me to an inch of my life. Whatever.
So, I permitted Oasis to leave on his own accord. When he left, he shit all over my front porch in a final desperate act of defiance and split into the cold, dark streets of this hellish part of inner-city Brooklyn. I'm here at this public library now--just the thought of using the public libarary makes my blood curdle, mind you--because Oasis picked up word processing in his spare time and uses his new skill to assassinate my character in a very unamusing Catster diary. I’m here to settle the score in a delightful way reminiscent of some of the more violent finishing moves in Mortal Kombat.
Much to my dismay, while reading up on new fall fashions--sweaters are in!-- something scurried under my study table and gashed open my shins. I sure do bleed a lot in this blog! Ay! Remember the time I had to cut my forehead like a pro-wrestler in order to give the impression that I just got mugged because i was running late to a job interview? Ah, memories. Anyways...so my pleated khakis were pooling up with a stain fit for an Oxy Clean commercial.
I hobbled to my feet snarling in pain. Everyone in the library was looking at me. I searched furiously for signs of Oasis. Oasis said he was gonna cut me in his Catster profile, but I didn’t think he really meant it! I started taking baby steps towards the exit of the building. With each step, blood would shoot out from the wounds like my shins were performing in a GWAR concert. Step. Spray! Step. Spray!
And then that reddish Abyssinian blur appeared again darting from a bookshelf. “Oh no! No no no no no no no NO!”
That bitch cat cut me again. This time in my calves.
“Jeezus H!” Step. Squirt. Spray! Step. Squirt. Spray! “Hello?? Does anyone here not notice a psychotic cat racing around the fucking library slicing me in the legs with his claws??”
“Sir, if you are going to make a commotion, I suggest you do it outside,” a fat librarian whispered.
How am I supposed to beat the heck out of this cat if I’m not at 100 percent? This battle will have to take place another day. I continued my stutter steps over to the entrance and pushed open the bulky doors. Thank god. Another one of those attacks and I might be walking home on two stumps instead of two feet.
Outside, the storm was still going. It was raining hard. Lightning crackled along the sky. I stood at the top of the granite stoop. The rain poured on me.
“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE,” a voice shrieked. It was like the voice of a banshee demon--an ear piercing, high pitched screech. I recognize this voice. Hmmm...
I looked at my shoes. The rain washed the blood from my pants and my eyes followed the crimson creek leading down each of the grey steps. At the bottom of the stone stairs, a figure wearing finely tailored all black clothing, holding a gaudy pink and purple umbrella, lurked menacingly in the red river that had pooled.