by Tom Watson
DEDICATION
To K8
(And Morris)
CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter 1: The Sweetheart Dance
Chapter 2: Less Stuck Than Usual
Chapter 3: No More Rescues
Chapter 4: An Elephant in the Ceiling
Chapter 5: Santa
Chapter 6: Tuna Todd Goes to Work
Chapter 7: It Evaporated
Chapter 8: Magic Tuna Dust
Chapter 9: Sock Balls
Chapter 10: It’s the Toilet
Chapter 11: Another Jackpot
Chapter 12: But I’m a Good Kitty
Chapter 13: Edith Is Batty
Chapter 14: THUD!
Chapter 15: Edith Has a Pretty Tail
Chapter 16: Edith Does It Again
Chapter 17: Stuck
Chapter 18: Two Different Problems
Chapter 19: Goose Meets Edith
Chapter 20: That’s Totally Gross
Back Ad
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
THE SWEETHEART DANCE
Umm, okay.
You’re not going to believe this. I’m not even sure I believe it myself.
It’s Sweetheart Dance time at my school. Do you know what that means? It’s February and the gym gets transformed into a red, white, and pink lovey-dovey romance-a-torium.
It’s gross.
Totally sickening.
But do you know who’s not gross?
Mary Cunningham.
And do you know what’s not sickening?
I’m pretty sure she’s into me.
Well, maybe not into me.
But she doesn’t ignore me. And she does talk to me. She even sat down by me at lunch in the cafeteria a couple of days ago.
I’m not making that up. It wasn’t a dream. It definitely happened.
I was there.
You remember who she is, right? Mary?
How can I put this?
Umm.
She’s cute.
There. I said it. As long as she doesn’t find out I think that, everything’s cool.
So don’t tell her.
She also likes cats. And I don’t mean she just has a cat for a pet. She actually has two. But I don’t mean she just has two cats either.
What I mean is Mary is crazy about cats. You know, obsessed. She has cats all over the place. On folders, book covers, pencils, sweaters, everything.
This combination—Mary being, you know, cute combined with her cat obsession—made me want to write the first Stick Cat story.
I usually write Stick Dog stories in my English class, but then the whole suddenly-I’m-noticing-Mary thing happened. That’s when I wrote a Stick Cat story to get her attention.
And I got it—her attention.
She liked that first story about Stick Cat and his best friend, Edith, a lot. In that story, they went on a rescue mission to save Mr. Music.
Mary liked the second story even more. In that one, Stick Cat and Edith helped Hazel, an old woman who made bagels.
And now, just today, she sat down next to me at lunch.
I know, right?
Unbelievable.
This is what happened.
First, she opened her lunchbox. Guess what? It had a cat on it. Shocking, right?
She unwrapped her PB&J and said, “Did you hear about the Sweetheart Dance?”
After almost gagging on a gulp of chocolate milk, I answered, “I saw the posters in the hallway.”
Mary, after deciding that my milk drinking did not, in fact, demand the Heimlich maneuver, added, “It’s where the girls ask the boys instead of the other way around.”
When she said this, I made the brilliant decision to not eat or drink anything for the rest of lunch. This, I knew, would keep my choking to death to a minimum.
Do you know what an “awkward silence” is?
It’s what happens when there’s a totally obvious subject between two people who are both thinking the same thing—but neither one of them has the courage to say anything.
That kind of silence happened today at the lunch table with me and Mary. She took a few nibbles of her PB&J. And I continued to not eat and not choke in a very macho and natural way.
Mary finally broke the silence.
She asked, “Are you working on another Stick Cat story?”
This was a brilliant move on her part. She had brought up the whole Sweetheart Dance subject but hadn’t asked me or anything.
Not yet.
“I’m thinking about writing another one.”
“Can I be the first to read it?”
I nodded.
Mary smiled.
And I was totally thankful for three things.
1. Mary sat by me at lunch today.
2. I didn’t choke to death.
3. English class was right after lunch.
Chapter 2
LESS STUCK THAN USUAL
Stick Cat’s roommate, Goose, had already left for work. And Stick Cat rested on the windowsill of their apartment on the twenty-third floor.
The big city was wide-awake now. Stick Cat had already watched the sun’s reflection brighten thousands of windows among the dozens of buildings he could see.
It was the time of day that Stick Cat enjoyed most. And it was not just because he loved how the city slowly illuminated as the morning progressed.
It was also because he knew it was simply a matter of time before his best friend, Edith, would call for him.
He closed his eyes and waited.
For six seconds.
“Stick Cat!”
It was Edith.
Stick Cat opened his eyes, hopped down to the living room floor, and began to pad his way across the soft, plush carpet toward the bathroom.
“Stick Cat!”
“Coming,” he called back.
He was nearly to the bathroom now. It was where he met Edith almost every day. They had scratched a hole in the wall that separated their two apartments from each other.
The hole was concealed in their respective bathroom cabinets. It had never been discovered by Goose or by Edith’s roommate, Tiffany.
“Stick Cat!”
“Almost there,” he said. He was in the bathroom now.
“I’ve got great news!” called Edith. Stick Cat could hear true excitement in her voice.
Stick Cat opened the cabinet door and saw exactly what he expected.
Edith was stuck in the wall.
He didn’t comment about her predicament at all. He knew better than to do that. Instead, he asked, “What’s your good news?”
“I’m less stuck than usual!” exclaimed Edith. “Isn’t that terrific?”
“I suppose,” answered Stick Cat. Something seemed to bother him though—like something didn’t make sense to him. Stick Cat hesitated a moment before asking, “But aren’t you either stuck or not stuck? I’m not sure there can be degrees of stuck-ness.”
“Of course there can,” Edith said. She seemed almost offended at Stick Cat’s suggestion. “Yesterday, I was totally jammed in here. Remember? I seemed to get caught right at my tummy for some reason. I’m not sure why. My midsection is one of my most attractive and elegant feline features.”
Edith stopped speaking then and just stared at Stick Cat. She appeared to be waiting for something. After several seconds, she added, “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Agree with what?” Stick Cat asked. He had honestly forgotten what she might be referring to.
“That my belly is one of my most attractive and elegant feline features.”
“Oh, yes,” Stick Cat said as fast as he
could. He had quickly realized the proper course of action. “Without question.”
“I knew you’d agree,” Edith went on. “Why I got stuck there I have no idea. Remember how it took you almost twenty pulls to get me out?”
“I remember,” answered Stick Cat. He rotated his shoulders a little bit to loosen them up. They were still sore.
“Well, now look!” Edith said. You could tell that she wanted to share her good news with Stick Cat. “Now my tummy is through, but my hips are stuck. That’s a lot better, don’t you think?”
“I guess so.” Stick Cat was clearly not very convinced.
“I just think that’s so much better, don’t you?”
This time, Stick Cat did not hesitate at all. “So much better. Totally. Yes.”
There was a moment of silence between them again.
Ultimately, Edith said, “Well, are you going to pull me out or what?”
Stick Cat reached for her paws, clasped them with his own, and began the task.
“I’ll keep count,” Edith commented.
After five pulls, she hadn’t budged at all.
“Stick Cat?”
“Yes?” he answered. He was happy to have a reason to take a break.
“You’re yanking a little too hard,” said Edith. “You’re, like, jerking or something. Try to just pull with a more consistent effort instead of stopping and starting so much.”
Stick Cat squeezed his lips together. He made no response to this suggestion at all and began to pull with a more consistent effort.
Edith didn’t budge.
“Stick Cat?”
“Yes?” He had pulled on her eleven times now. He was pleased to get another break.
“I’m getting tired.”
“You’re getting tired?”
“That’s right,” Edith answered. “It’s not easy being stuck in a wall, let me tell you.”
“I, umm, wouldn’t know.”
“Well, holding still like this in one position can be frustrating. And I get a little sore too. Yesterday, I was sore around my belly. Today, my hips are getting sore.”
“I see,” Stick Cat said—mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“So, I was just wondering.”
“Yes?”
“Could you speed this along a bit?”
Stick Cat did not answer, but he did pull at Edith six more times.
“Stop,” Edith sighed. “That’s seventeen pulls and you’re not making any progress.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“No offense, Stick Cat,” Edith said, and looked at him directly. “But maybe you should start exercising or something.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, working out,” Edith explained further. “I mean, it seems to take you longer and longer to get me out of the wall nowadays.”
“And you think that’s because I’m losing strength? Becoming weaker?” asked Stick Cat. You might think he would be offended by such a suggestion, but he wasn’t. He appeared more amused than anything. There was just the hint of a grin on his face. “The fact that it’s becoming harder and harder to pull you from the wall couldn’t be for any other reason?”
“Not that comes to my mind, no,” Edith replied. She lifted her paws in the air again and thrust them in Stick Cat’s direction.
As he grasped her, Stick Cat added, “Maybe I’ll start doing some push-ups or jumping jacks in the morning.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Edith said, and smiled. She seemed pleased that Stick Cat might heed her advice.
Stick Cat pulled some more, but he changed his methodology a bit this time. Instead of pulling straight, he pulled Edith a little bit left a couple of times and then pulled her a little bit right a couple of times. This rocking motion made a genuine difference, and in several seconds Edith’s hips cleared the wall—and she popped free.
She paced across the bathroom floor, checked her fur in the mirror on the back of the door, and then turned her head over her shoulder. “Do you want to sit on the windowsill for a while?” she asked. “That wore me out. I need a rest.”
Stick Cat smiled at her. “Great idea,” he said.
It was a normal start to their day together.
But it was definitely not going to be a normal day.
Chapter 3
NO MORE RESCUES
After a long and glorious nap, Stick Cat and Edith woke up. Actually, Stick Cat woke up first, but he waited silently and motionlessly until Edith awakened too.
“What do you want to do today?” Stick Cat asked her.
“What time is it?”
Stick Cat looked out the window. He couldn’t see the sun—there were too many buildings blocking his view—but he could discern where it was by the brightness of the sky.
“It’s early afternoon, I think,” Stick Cat answered. “That was a very long nap.”
“I could sleep longer,” Edith said. “I LOVE sleeping. I’d sleep right through the whole day if Tiffany didn’t wake me up every morning.”
“You would?”
“Most definitely,” Edith said. She was quite sure of herself. “But she’s always getting up and making my breakfast. She tries to be quiet, but she can’t be. It drives me crazy! Then the smells from the kitchen come pouring into the room, and that wakes me up even more.”
“What did she make for you this morning?”
“Huevos rancheros.”
“What’s that?”
“Scrambled eggs with hot sauce,” Edith answered. She licked her lips in an attempt to recapture the flavors. “I LOVE hot sauce.”
“I know you do. You’re spicy.”
“I’m TOTALLY spicy,” Edith confirmed. She liked being described this way, you could tell. She licked her lips again—and it seemed to remind her of something else.
“And bacon. I had seven strips of bacon. I’m in LOVE with bacon!”
Stick Cat smiled. “Sounds like it was a meal worth getting up for.”
“I suppose,” answered Edith casually. “I’ve had better.”
Changing the subject, Stick Cat asked again, “What would you like to do today?”
Edith glanced out the window and up at the sky. Finally, an idea came to her. “We could take another nap. That would be fun.”
“What about something a little more exciting?”
“Naps can be exciting.”
“What about something a little more active?”
Edith didn’t seem to like that idea too much. She rolled her eyes up and away from Stick Cat. She suddenly seemed quite determined about something.
“Let me tell you what we’re not going to do today, Mr. Man,” Edith stated. “We are not going to rescue some poor person who is stuck in a piano or is drowning in a massive pot of bagel batter.”
“We’re not?”
“No,” Edith said, and shook her head. “I’m sick and tired of all these rescue missions. These people need to learn to take better care of themselves.”
Now, Stick Cat did not agree with this attitude. But he also knew there was an incredibly small chance they would see another person who needed their help. And he certainly didn’t think it would happen in the next few hours.
So he answered, “Okay.”
“No more parachuting across the alley,” Edith went on. “Even though it was tons of fun. I want today to be a rest day. A plain, simple, quiet rest day.”
Again, Stick Cat said, “Okay.”
And Edith closed her eyes again.
For fifteen seconds.
Cr-eea-k. Oomph!
“What was that?!” she screamed as her eyes snapped open.
Stick Cat leaped from the windowsill down to the living-room floor. He jerked and twitched his head left and right. He tried to identify the source of the sound.
“I think it came from the ceiling!” he whispered.
He was right. The sound did come from the ceiling. And he was right about something else too.
He and Edith wo
uld not try to rescue someone today.
No.
Today they would try to catch someone.
Chapter 4
AN ELEPHANT IN THE CEILING
Edith was fully alert now. All her drowsiness had disappeared as soon as she heard that strange sound from the ceiling. She leaped down from the windowsill.
Cree-eeeak!
“There it is again!” she whispered. “What could it be?!”
Stick Cat had no idea. He had never heard such a strange sound before—and certainly never twice in a row. And definitely never from the ceiling.
Cree-eeeak!
Three times in a row.
“It’s the ceiling!” exclaimed Edith. “It’s going to collapse! There must be an elephant up there or something.”
She took a few quiet steps to follow the sound. It was definitely moving—whatever it was.
“Don’t get under it, Edith!” Stick Cat yelled. He dove toward the couch and crouched behind it. He peeked around its edge. “Come back here with me!”
Edith continued to walk along with the sound. It was as if something was pushing through something else. There was a swishing sound now too—like a dragging sound.
“How do you think it got up there?” asked Edith.
“How do I think what got up there?”
“The elephant, of course!”
Cree-ee—eeak!
“Edith, an elephant is not in the ceiling.”
“How do you know? It could be an elephant. You just won’t admit that I’m right—that I figured it out first. That’s what I think.”
Stick Cat couldn’t believe they were even having this discussion. He asked incredulously, “How could an elephant get in the ceiling?”
“That’s what I just asked,” Edith said. “That’s what I want to know too.”
Stick Cat could not be certain, but the ceiling seemed to bulge a bit with the sound—as if something heavy was slowly moving across the room right above them. It was an almost impossible thing to detect.
Precisely when Stick Cat wondered if he could indeed see a slight bulge moving across the ceiling, something happened.
