“And I bought this house thirty-six years ago.”
“What?!” I was stunned.
“I am the one who has rid this domicile of Hellcats, demons, and tricksters.” His face grew red. “And all manner of Spongebats, SquantaZips, Mildafosses, Hellmoles, and some things that even uttering their names out loud might drop us down into a sinkhole.” His palms flattened his hair downward, calming himself. “I own it fair and square. I even spent a few years here trying to domesticate some Hellcats who had the milder Earthcat lineage, like my dear Coltrane. Tough business, that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes with mild aggravation. “Never sold this place, though. Never relinquished ownership. Any sales since then have been illegal, improper, and without my permission.” He rapped on the table a couple times. “But you’re agreeable people, so you can stay.”
“Then how did it happen?”
“Ridding those hybrid Hellcats from their kitty-piss hexagons of power?”
“What? No, the real estate part.”
“Don’t know. When I phase-changed, someone probably assumed that I went missing, passed away, or something. Shady bankers and lawyers likely sold it right out from under me.”
“But if you stopped paying your mortgage--”
“Please! No way. This house was paid for.” He adjusted his posture again. “Honestly, I have no idea. Not really the custom of a bank to come to a house—what they believe is an empty house—announcing their plans.”
And with that, I finally chuckled.
“Ah, good. Adjusting to your surroundings.” He gestured to the chairs again. I sat down and began to put on another man’s shoes, also a very odd occurrence for me.
“We have much to discuss and then we need to get you back tonight. In the morning, if your family can’t find you or see you, there will be all sorts of trouble: missing work, calls to the authorities, detectives poking around, family trauma, grief. The whole shebang.”
“Right.”
“Your wife will file a missing persons report and your life, and mine, will get very weird.”
“This can’t get any weirder. But I can’t imagine they’d miss me that much.”
“Nonsense.” He winced, and I saw it, but he quickly dismissed it. “But I have been really hoping to get the chance to speak with you for some time, so there is an upside to all of this.”
“Speak with me about what…the Hellcat situation?”
“Thelonious? No, he’s harmless. Just fighting with all his own demons, and his lot in life, like the rest of us. He helps me out quite a bit around here. No, I want to speak to you about a couple more pressing issues,” he said, as he walked into the shadows again. This time I tilted forward and strained to see where he was headed—I couldn’t, so I settled back into my annoying chair.
“I’m just going to get my list,” he called out.
“You have a list?”
“Of course,” he said proudly. “In case we ever got this opportunity.”
“Can we just continue with how I get back to the full size me?”
“We’ll get to that. Promise.”
I nodded.
“Okay.” His smile quickly changed to one crafted with the pain of an unexpected car repair bill. “I want to talk to you about the household maintenance around here, namely the bathroom; the choice of programs you folks watch on TV as a family—including the volume…” he added, seeing a note he’d written to himself in the margin.
Even from here, it looked like an extensive list.
“I also want to discuss, if we have time, your complete obsession with snacking on cheese. At all hours, day or night. Cheese sticks, cheese slices, carving a block…”
“I like cheese.”
“I know,” he said, rolling his eyes up to me without moving his head. “There are a few other matters.”
With that, I heard my cat rumble by in the dining room. His purr sounded forced, but fuller. “Is he okay? Why is P.J. still coming after me?”
My family’s micro-roommate put his list and makeshift clipboard on the small table. “Thell-own-ee-us is just trying to get in here and help. Time is our enemy.”
“Help? How can he help?” I asked. “I really can't imagine a worse way to go than to be devoured by your own house cat...in one go.”
“I can. But sure, that’s the supreme power of a Hellcat. The shrinking thing. They can chomp into their enemies, their mortal foes, and turn them into bite-size morsels. But eat you?” He laughed. “No, Thelonious doesn’t want to eat you. Phasing you was likely a mistake, unless you’re… What’s your astrology, Peter?”
“Gemini, why?”
“They have issues with some freakish aspects of the zodiac. Poor kitty’s Hellcat nature was likely lashing out at your Gemini evil twin stuff in the death throes of his kitty-cat life.”
“You already knew?”
“That he’s dying? Yes, I can smell it on him, my poor old friend.”
“What?! You can smell death?”
“Yes, and on a Hellcat, it's a particular odor that you never forget. Never mind that. I’ve also heard you discussing it with your wife. He’s on the home stretch you said.”
“I know, it’s unbelievable. My daughter will be devastated.”
“She knows already.” He nodded. “She talks with your wife about it almost daily.”
“Do you listen to every conversation that goes on in this house?”
“No, getting upstairs is tough, so I stopped doing that, except in emergencies.”
“What emergencies? A Hellcat isn’t an emergency?”
“You think of me as some freeloader, but since I’m the principal homeowner here, I’m the one that deals with problems head-on.”
“Like?”
“Remember the chipmunk situation last year?”
“Yes I do. We almost called an exterminator.”
“But…?” he said, waving his hands around like some sort of dragonfly puppet show.
“You used your magic?”
“I’m not magic, I’m from New Hampshire.”
“But he went away, so we didn’t have to hire anyone.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What did you do?”
“As I said, I go upstairs in case of emergencies.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“I convinced her to leave.”
“How?”
“Pepper, if you must know. That was my primary strategy, but there were several other steps involved. It was quite an ordeal. And it gave me a chance to check for other uninviteds up there.”
“Find any?”
He hesitated as if he might not tell me. “Two baby WormDucks, but they left with no trouble.”
“Wow, okay. WormDucks, that’s new. Thank you.” I considered my current size and the uncertainty I had for my own cat. Not sure I’d be too eager to go into a crawlspace and mess with wild rodents or whatever. I started trembling again at the thought of being stuck like this.
“Back to my list...”
“Be my guest.” What choice did I have?
He smoothed his paper, ran his finger down the list, and cleared his throat. “Now that you know I’m here, ever vigilant, and you are beginning to understand my immeasurable value to all concerned, here it is: I’d like you and your family to do a better job at bathroom maintenance. It’s quite cruddy in there.”
“You can’t honestly tell me you use our…facilities?”
“Yes. Your sink in there is my principal source of water. Much easier to get to than the high kitchen monstrosity. That’s an obstacle course.”
“What about…? You don’t….?”
“Your tub drain,” said my leprechaun intruder, “and I don’t want to discuss it any further.”
“Why don’t you just go outside?”
“Do you have any idea of the dangers outdoors? The wild animals: crows, squirrels, dogs, Fisher cats, raccoons, beetles, wasps, and such?”
“
Based on your story about the chipmunk and the other creatures, I was picturing you more as a fearless adventurer in my yard.”
“My yard—but thanks for the semi-regular mowing.”
“I’ve been busy, but it gets done.”
“I know. I said thank you. But access to the outdoors is problematic at best. I don’t open doors and windows, and when I see a gap in the concrete or whatever, this homeowner gets on the case.”
“I never asked you your name?”
“Wondering if you’d realize that. I’m Elliott Francis Carter.”
“Nice to meet you, Elliott—”
“You can just call me Mr. Carter.”
I waited a moment for a smirk that never came. “Okay, then.”
“So the bathroom?”
“Yes, we’ll do a better job.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mr. Carter?”
“No, I mean, do you understand that it’s about the condensation and grime around the toilet bowl and the dust bunnies near the sink, a few cobwebs in every corner, and—”
“Okay, I get it.”
“It’s quite gross.”
“Agreed.”
“And late at night, when I need to…go, it feels like a Halloween scare house challenge.”
“Understood.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Wonderful. You have made an old man very happy. This lifts an immense burden off my shoulders. I appreciate any minor or major improvements you can muster.”
“Sure, I get it.”
“Did you want me to come up with a cleaning schedule and regimen for you and your wife? Never too young to get your daughter in there cleaning either.”
“She’s ten, she doesn’t really clean toilet bowls.”
“Seems big for ten—but to each his own.”
“Okay,” I said. “We’ve talked about your list, now let’s get back to the plan. What do I need to do?”
“Okay, simple simple, let’s head out to the kitchen.”
“Sure, but I think I need some water first.”
“Good idea. It does take a while to get there, so let’s grab a drink,” he said, gesturing to his water basin.
“Is that a Lego?”
Peering out into the darkness, Mr. Carter launched off toward the kitchen without warning, and I struggled to keep up with him.
“Where’s P.J. now?” I said, running and whispering, and trying to manage my rolling anxiety.
“He’ll probably just wait for us in the living room.” he said, never looking back. “Simple, simple.”
“Okay.”
Not simple at all.
After what felt like forty minutes of running, ducking, climbing, wedging, shifting, and pushing with all our might, we managed to open the cat cabinet and get into position to push over the bag of dry food. We used our bodies to get the bag to start rocking back and forth, urging it to spill out only several pieces before it weebled and wobbled back up to an almost vertical position.
“That will be enough, I imagine!” Mr. Carter said, barely winded.
“Why do we need cat food?” I said, huffing.
“We want Thelonious to feel full when he bites you so his instincts to devour prey don’t kick in.”
“Okay, that’s terrifying,” I said, looking at the bruises on my still tingly left hand. “Are you coming too?”
“Stay sharp, Peter. We can only be phased back by the Hellcat who changed us. I told you that.”
“But how do you know?”
“It’s a theory.”
“If I’m going back, isn’t it worth a try for you too?”
Mr. Carter suddenly stopped in his tracks, and looked around in the dark kitchen. He held up his hand to silence me, so I froze immediately.
“Yes,” he said in a near-silent whisper, still scanning the shadows. “But it will not happen tonight. I’ve had Thelonious bite me several times over the last few years, and it’s never worked. I even tried having him bite my other hand, my arm, my shoulder.” He shook his head slowly for a few long seconds. “Done. With. That.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought I heard something,” he said. “But let’s just stay along this wall. Watch out for the spider web in the corner.”
“Okay.”
“She won’t eat us, but has no problem silking me for a while if I get too close. Thinks it’s funny.”
Without warning, I felt a jolt of pain in my throat. “I don’t feel so well,” I said.
“Another reason to do this now. Let’s move. He’s sick, you’re sick. But if Thelonious passes before you phase back, you’ll be stuck down here with me.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I felt another strange sting of discomfort in my face.
“I’m remarkably good company, my late wife used to say.” He flashed a toothy smile. “A solid conversationalist. Now let’s bring this food to him in the living room.”
“Then what?”
“Once he’s ready, you’ll stick your temporarily tiny hand in his enormous mouth, and I’ll help guide the bite down. Should be simple simple,” he said. When we made eye contact again, he stopped in his tracks and stared at my cheek. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” I said, lifting my hand up to feel my overnight stubble.
“You are growing little whiskers, Peter. Not good. Not good at all. Let’s hurry.”
“Like a cat?”
“No, Rattus norvegicus, a brown rat. Doesn’t happen every time, but…”
“What?!”
“Some Hellcats can make their prey into various delicacies, that’s all,” he said. “Doesn’t change anything. Let’s just keep moving.”
I could barely carry the massive pieces of cat food across the dining room and into the living room, and nearly dropped them a few times. But my strong mini-landlord was steady going.
“He needs all of it, you know,” he said as encouragement.
“Got it. But it’s heavy, and it just smells so bad,” I said, panting and trying to catch my breath.
“I know. It’s something I’ve noticed over the years. In this phase, our senses are heightened.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“Smells, sounds, light. I hear noises long before your family notices them. I can tell whenever you open the refrigerator which food will go bad a few days later. Things like that.” He gestured for me to move faster. “Even heard and smelled the scent of a mama garter snake moving into the basement several years ago looking for a place to have her babies.”
“What did you do?”
“Another case of using your laptop to find out what makes a good snake repellent.”
“And?”
“White vinegar and peppermint, sir. White vinegar and peppermint.”
“Okay, wow,” I said, impressed. “Amazing that you know that.”
“Took me a week to mount the offensive, but she moved along. And I managed to survive in the basement. Dingy world down there.”
“It’s unfinished.”
“I know. I bought the house too, Peter.” He smiled. “I’m not asking you to work on the basement.” He fished the list out of his pocket. “See? Not on the list.”
“Oh good, you brought it.”
And without thinking, I licked one of the pieces of cat food.
“Stop it,” Carter said to me, the firm way you discourage a pet from scratching your upholstery, or shoo a rat away from your garbage bin.
We left Thelonious’s food on the rug near the sofa and waited in the shadows. I thought I’d be struggling to wipe the stench of his treats off my hands, but instead I was licking them.
“You hear that?” he whispered. Without warning, a shadow flew at us from above, for a moment highlighted by the street glow. “Get down,” Mr. Carter barked. “SpongeBat!”
I fell to the carpet, praying I could hide under it, when I heard the all-to
o-close whoosh above us. Mr. Carter swung and missed as it passed. “Get!”
That’s when P.J. emerged from under the coffee table, at first ambling along and sniffing from side to side, and then mustering all the energy he had. He lunged. High. At first I thought he was diving for Mr. Carter and my heart sunk, but I guess in that moment everyone had better night vision than me. In the air, my brave, wonderful cat caught the strange bat creature and yanked it to the rug. I couldn’t see much, but his grip on that creature looked permanent. By the time he dropped, it had already shrunk, and P.J. wolfed it down. I heard a disturbing gulp.
“Good work, Thelonious,” Mr. Carter said, waving both hands in the near darkness.
“Yes, thank you,” I whispered, in shock.
Carter pointed to the pile of cat snacks. “Have that too. Get that crazy bat taste out of your mouth. Plus, you don’t want this scrawny little Gemini guy. He’ll probably just upset your stomach.”
I waited for more.
“That’s it?” I said, whispering to Carter.
He shrugged. “What? I was kidding.”
So I added, “Who is also your amazing owner Peter, of the sweet family you’ve lived with all these years, and the guy whose paychecks have supported a healthy diet of quality cat food.”
“You ever try it…before tonight?”
“Shush.”
My cat—our cat—moved toward his food in the inky dark and slowly hunched down, visibly in pain. In the profile of his towering fur shadow, I heard the first crack as he chomped a piece of chicken-tuna dry.
“Good, he’s eating,” I whispered. “Do you know why it’s all maroon-colored? His cat food?”
“Stay focused, Peter.” Mr. Carter fumbled for the list again and glanced at it to refresh his memory.
“Okay, a quick one. You all need to do a better job recycling.”
“Now, really? After all this drama? Okay, and…?” I hesitated because I was prepared for an extensive lecture on our bad habits.
We both looked down and saw tufts of new hair on the backs of my hands. The beginnings of rat fur.
“That’s it. Just do better,” he said quickly.
“Okay,” I whispered, darting my eyes back and forth between P.J. and my new fur. “But this is not cool.” I nodded toward my hands.
Hellcats: Anthology Page 87
