Friday, March 17, 2006

the brat pack (a.k.a. WTMCK-WITW #4)

I probably shouldn’t call Tarzan and Blue the Most Cutest Kitty-Witties In The World. Not because they’re not cute, but because they might beat me up for saying so.

Blue, a fluffy, peachy Persian with giant blue eyes, looks like Shirley Temple. But imagine if Shirley Temple went through a goth phase in high school. Imagine if she got really sick of being adorable, dyed her hair black and started listening to Marilyn Manson. It still wouldn’t be quite enough to hide the fact that it had only been a few years since she’d disembarked from the good ship Lollipop—and the fact that she was a child star, the neediest creature on earth.

That’s Blue, a cat who glowers and growls while rubbing her head against you and purring. She is a furry, semi-cuddly bag of contradictions, every artist’s ideal muse.

Tarzan may or may not be a cat. He is a tiny, young, long-black-haired ferret-type creature with a pointy face and a fight to pick with every cat he meets, even the 15-pound Hamlet, who has no problem living up to his violent namesake when provoked. Tarzan is part ferret, part bratty skater kid in need of Ritalin. A kid not entirely unlike Jake Manning circa 1989 (for those of you who went to Manhattan Beach Intermediate). Tarzan talks back to the teacher, and the other kids cover their mouths to squelch their laughter. The teacher lumbers after him as Tarzan darts between desks.

For Tarzan the world is so big and buzzing. There are things that jingle and sparkle and look at him the wrong way. He’s not allowed out without strict supervision, but what he needs is a lot of out, and a lot of no-supervision. He thinks Blue might be kinda interesting, the way she pushes her hair behind her ears and rolls her eyes when he walks by. But that ball darting toward his cage is also interesting, and—what’s that? Oh, the door closing behind him.

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