Suzette Katz hoisted herself up on top of the mahogany bar and surveyed her girls. She quickly felt a wave of nostalgia for the good times this place had given her. But like all good times, this too must come to an end.
"Little gals," she announced, "I am calling this staff meeting to announce that I am hanging up my spurs and moving down to Florida to live with my sister, Cindy." she watched as the meaning of what she had just said sank in. She saw shock flit from face to face and finally land on little Pearl who seemed to be having trouble figuring out what all this meant, so she decided that more clarification was in order.
"Now I know that the Katz City Cat House has been owned by a female member of the Katz family ever since my great, great grandmother, Louella figured out that there was a great deal of money to be made by servicing all of the appetites of the mining community." That comment drew a few chortles as she knew it would.
"But times have changed since the heyday of the whore house. What with the caternet and morals in general heading south, it's become almost impossible for the community whore house to break even. And that's a sad comment on society if I do have to say so myself." she continued wiping away a tear.
"So I have sold this building to a Mr. Dweezil Felinerino and he will be taking possession on April 1st. I think that date's kind of fitting," she said blowing her nose into the lace hanky she always carried with her.
"But what's going to happen to us." Peal piped up. "What are we going to do." She was wringing her paws and looked on the verge of tears.
"Now I don't want you little gals to worry. I have suggested to Mr. Felinerino that he might want to keep my experienced waitresses on staff. You still are going to have your rooms upstairs and our ad on the caternet ain't going anywhere. So what you do in your rooms is your business and who you date is your business. So for the next little while, the only thing that's going to change is that your johns will be paying you directly instead of me. And that can only mean more money for you. "
The majority of the girls started whispering excitedly among themselves. Obviously freelancing was going to suit them just fine. Only little Pearl still looked upset. "That poor little nitwit has only one client and unfortunately for everyone involved that client is my good for nothing nephew Scooter. Oh well, " she thought to herself, "It's time she grew up and Scooter got his paws smacked.
So ladies, I can see this here news is sitting well with everyone. And it's my sincere wish that all of you end up on top. Unless, of course, " she winked, "You prefer to end up on the bottom."
And with that the room erupted into laughter.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Sighing deeply, Sally Alba closed her February edition of Cosmopolicat and hid it under official school papers she was going to get around to reading sometime. It was hopeless. The whole miserable situation was hopeless. "Why do I even bother with trash like Cosmopolicat," she thought to herself as she took her make-up bag out of her handbag. "It's not like I can wear any of the hot looking outfits, or practice any of the ten moves to drive him wild in bed. In order to do that, there has to be a him to practice on. And my him takes as much notice of me as he does the office furniture. No, I'm wrong. He did notice the one small scratch on his desk last week. He takes less notice of me than he does the furniture."
Taking out her eyeliner pencil, mascara and mirror, she started applying her makeup. "However, she thought to herself, "I have been practicing the seven sultry stares to get your noticed." She was so busy applying makeup and practicing her looks, she missed the arrival of Jane, the school secretary and the bane of her existence.
"Well Ms. Alba, if you're all finished getting that whatever it is out of your eye, Doctor Kirki would like to see you in his office."Jane announced between chomps on her gum. She was a middle aged, overweight, opinionated fright and everything about her, from her loud sweaters advertising every holiday imaginable to her small piggy eyes annoyed Sally. But the main reason for her dislike was fact that high school educated Jane Siscatski ran the school. She had her nose into everything, and whatever changes or modernizations they wanted to make had to first pass the Jane test and nothing ever passed the Jane test.
Putting away her makeup and smoothing down her skirt, she didn't miss the, "I know what you're up to and it won't work either look that flitted across that fat, piggy face. Trying to compose her own face. she walked by Jane and into "his" office.
Paul Kirki, PhD was standing at the window watching the snow. Everything about him was elegant and wonderful. Like her, he was a seal point siamese cat. That fact alone should have glued the two together. They should have been an island of loveliness in a sea of out west squalor. "But no," she thought to herself, "he treats me the same way he treats Jane. No, he listened to Jane. He treats me like an uncomfortable chair he's inherited and can't get rid of."
Throwing back her shoulders and fluttering her eyelashes, she cleared her throat, and as he turned to face her, she gave him hot look number one. When that didn't work, she went on to killer look number three. She was stopped in the middle of the mother of all sultry stares when he said, "Ms. Alba is there something wrong with your eyes? Should I call the school nurse. Please do sit down; however, if you're coming down with pink eye don't touch anything."
Sighing with hopelessness, she sat down and asked,"You wanted to see me."
"Yes, " he answered placing his large manly paws on the mahogany desk. "I've gotten another email from the mayor asking when we're going to get a guidance counselor."
"Dr. Kirki, you know I have advertised in every professional journal and major newspaper in the state and we've had no responses," she answered, and mentally added," and you're surprised. Who in their right mind would want to come to this dinky, backwater, town."
"So Ms. Alba, I was discussing this situation with Jane and we've decided that maybe you're raising the bar just a little too high with your qualifications. You want the successful applicant to have an undergraduate degree in education and a masters degree in psychology and five years experience in the role of a rural guidance counselor.
As Jane pointed out," he continued, "those are pretty expensive credentials for a cat who would spend his or her day neatly and accurately filling out forms while listening to whining. So she has taken it upon herself to place the following ad on Louis' List.
Wanted a mature cat to neatly and accurately complete paperwork in a school setting. The successful applicant should also be able to calmly and considerately listen to a never ending litany of excuses and other ridiculous rubbish. In addition, he or she should also have the ability to coach a cheer squad featuring baton twirlers and flag swirlers, as well as dancers and cheerleaders."
Sally resisted the urge to wrap her paws around his handsome neck and start choking. "You have got be kidding." she finally hissed. "Why don't you add pole dancing to your list of qualifications."
"Ms. Alba, " he responded sadly, "Your eye infections is obviously getting in the way of your better judgement. Once you are feeling better, I'm sure you'll agree that this ad will definitely attract the right person for our school."
Having nothing further to say, she left slamming the door behind her.
NEW STORY EVERY SUNDAY
Taking out her eyeliner pencil, mascara and mirror, she started applying her makeup. "However, she thought to herself, "I have been practicing the seven sultry stares to get your noticed." She was so busy applying makeup and practicing her looks, she missed the arrival of Jane, the school secretary and the bane of her existence.
"Well Ms. Alba, if you're all finished getting that whatever it is out of your eye, Doctor Kirki would like to see you in his office."Jane announced between chomps on her gum. She was a middle aged, overweight, opinionated fright and everything about her, from her loud sweaters advertising every holiday imaginable to her small piggy eyes annoyed Sally. But the main reason for her dislike was fact that high school educated Jane Siscatski ran the school. She had her nose into everything, and whatever changes or modernizations they wanted to make had to first pass the Jane test and nothing ever passed the Jane test.
Putting away her makeup and smoothing down her skirt, she didn't miss the, "I know what you're up to and it won't work either look that flitted across that fat, piggy face. Trying to compose her own face. she walked by Jane and into "his" office.
Paul Kirki, PhD was standing at the window watching the snow. Everything about him was elegant and wonderful. Like her, he was a seal point siamese cat. That fact alone should have glued the two together. They should have been an island of loveliness in a sea of out west squalor. "But no," she thought to herself, "he treats me the same way he treats Jane. No, he listened to Jane. He treats me like an uncomfortable chair he's inherited and can't get rid of."
Throwing back her shoulders and fluttering her eyelashes, she cleared her throat, and as he turned to face her, she gave him hot look number one. When that didn't work, she went on to killer look number three. She was stopped in the middle of the mother of all sultry stares when he said, "Ms. Alba is there something wrong with your eyes? Should I call the school nurse. Please do sit down; however, if you're coming down with pink eye don't touch anything."
Sighing with hopelessness, she sat down and asked,"You wanted to see me."
"Yes, " he answered placing his large manly paws on the mahogany desk. "I've gotten another email from the mayor asking when we're going to get a guidance counselor."
"Dr. Kirki, you know I have advertised in every professional journal and major newspaper in the state and we've had no responses," she answered, and mentally added," and you're surprised. Who in their right mind would want to come to this dinky, backwater, town."
"So Ms. Alba, I was discussing this situation with Jane and we've decided that maybe you're raising the bar just a little too high with your qualifications. You want the successful applicant to have an undergraduate degree in education and a masters degree in psychology and five years experience in the role of a rural guidance counselor.
As Jane pointed out," he continued, "those are pretty expensive credentials for a cat who would spend his or her day neatly and accurately filling out forms while listening to whining. So she has taken it upon herself to place the following ad on Louis' List.
Wanted a mature cat to neatly and accurately complete paperwork in a school setting. The successful applicant should also be able to calmly and considerately listen to a never ending litany of excuses and other ridiculous rubbish. In addition, he or she should also have the ability to coach a cheer squad featuring baton twirlers and flag swirlers, as well as dancers and cheerleaders."
Sally resisted the urge to wrap her paws around his handsome neck and start choking. "You have got be kidding." she finally hissed. "Why don't you add pole dancing to your list of qualifications."
"Ms. Alba, " he responded sadly, "Your eye infections is obviously getting in the way of your better judgement. Once you are feeling better, I'm sure you'll agree that this ad will definitely attract the right person for our school."
Having nothing further to say, she left slamming the door behind her.
NEW STORY EVERY SUNDAY
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Mayor Robert T.Hisston, known to his friends as Big Bob and to his enemies as Bigger Bob stamped the snow off his boots as he entered the city's combination sheriff's office/city jail. He was a large, well muscled orange cat and it was Bigger Bob who was paying this afternoon's call. His ears went flat back and his tail started twitching as he surveyed the mess around him. The reception area was littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, sleezy magazines and wadded up pieces of paper. Damn that Deputy Sheriff Harlan T. Katz, where was he.
It may be true, he thought to himself as he stomped around the reception area, that this town was built from wealth of the Pretty Kitty Silver Mine. And it was also true that said Pretty Kitty Mine was discovered by one Ephraim Katz in 1882. But nowhere in the glossed over town history did it mention they way old Ephraim discovered it. The truth was that the miserable old coot stumbled dead drunk out of his cabin, tripped over his own paws and landed face first on top of one of the states biggest silver loads. Nor did it describe how as soon as the family had made its first million, the brightest of the bunch,and the term brightest was used loosely, decamped to anywhere but here, leaving the losers behind them to leach off the town forever, Because as well as leaving the town half of the proceeds of the Pretty Kitty, Ephraim left a codicil in his will linking the money with his family. The town would get it's share of the wealth, if it promised to take care of any family member too stupid or feeble to care for themselves.
So here we are 132 years later, and all that's left of the famous founding Katz family is, Suzette Katz, that miserable old troll who owns the Kat House. And because of that damned will, for forty years the law had turned a blind eye to what was really being served up in that venue. Larry "Scooter" Katz who personified the three d's often attributed to the family: dumb, degenerate and disgusting; and last and always least, Harlan T. Katz, the laziest, most malingering loser to ever become a city employee.
Getting madder by the minute, he pushed his way through the door and hollered into the dimly lit jail area, "Harlan, where in the hell are you?"
"Back here, boss," he heard him reply. Switch on the lights, I'm in cell number three.
The Mayor turned on the lights and saw that Harlan had created a cozy nest for himself in the cell. It was decorated in purple, black and green just like the bruise that he was on the city's budget. He had purple and black striped curtains, fluorescent green flowered cushions and was even wearing a purple, black and green cowboy hat. Being that Harlan's fur was best described as puce, all of this color surrounding that pasty face was enough to make a feller puke.
"Harlan, what are you doing with that laptop? Why aren't you sitting at your desk manning the phones? Why are you sneaking around back here. Are you wasting the city's money looking at pornography or are you playing some kind of zombie game?"
"Oh no, boss," he replied in that dumber than dirt innocent way of his, "I was just keeping up with national events of great importance. Lynx News is fair and unbiased and only carries stories that everyone should care about."
"Such as,"
"Well you will not believe what is going on down south. There's this couple whose land is infested with alligators. And then there's this other feller who got arrested for having sex with a picnic table. It was one them circular kind with a hole in the center.. "
"Harlan, enough, that will be enough!" Big Bob hissed as he planted his large paws on his hips. "I came here today to tell you that the City Council has given me permission to write to the powers that be up in Denver and request that they send us a real Sheriff. So I suggest that you leave that cell, before I lock you in it, and march yourself into the front room. Once you get there I want you to toss every last bit of trash out and then sit at your desk practicing looking efficient. The way I see it, if you practice looking like your working long enough, when the real sheriff gets here and expects you to actually work, the shock won't kill you."
It may be true, he thought to himself as he stomped around the reception area, that this town was built from wealth of the Pretty Kitty Silver Mine. And it was also true that said Pretty Kitty Mine was discovered by one Ephraim Katz in 1882. But nowhere in the glossed over town history did it mention they way old Ephraim discovered it. The truth was that the miserable old coot stumbled dead drunk out of his cabin, tripped over his own paws and landed face first on top of one of the states biggest silver loads. Nor did it describe how as soon as the family had made its first million, the brightest of the bunch,and the term brightest was used loosely, decamped to anywhere but here, leaving the losers behind them to leach off the town forever, Because as well as leaving the town half of the proceeds of the Pretty Kitty, Ephraim left a codicil in his will linking the money with his family. The town would get it's share of the wealth, if it promised to take care of any family member too stupid or feeble to care for themselves.
So here we are 132 years later, and all that's left of the famous founding Katz family is, Suzette Katz, that miserable old troll who owns the Kat House. And because of that damned will, for forty years the law had turned a blind eye to what was really being served up in that venue. Larry "Scooter" Katz who personified the three d's often attributed to the family: dumb, degenerate and disgusting; and last and always least, Harlan T. Katz, the laziest, most malingering loser to ever become a city employee.
Getting madder by the minute, he pushed his way through the door and hollered into the dimly lit jail area, "Harlan, where in the hell are you?"
"Back here, boss," he heard him reply. Switch on the lights, I'm in cell number three.
The Mayor turned on the lights and saw that Harlan had created a cozy nest for himself in the cell. It was decorated in purple, black and green just like the bruise that he was on the city's budget. He had purple and black striped curtains, fluorescent green flowered cushions and was even wearing a purple, black and green cowboy hat. Being that Harlan's fur was best described as puce, all of this color surrounding that pasty face was enough to make a feller puke.
"Harlan, what are you doing with that laptop? Why aren't you sitting at your desk manning the phones? Why are you sneaking around back here. Are you wasting the city's money looking at pornography or are you playing some kind of zombie game?"
"Oh no, boss," he replied in that dumber than dirt innocent way of his, "I was just keeping up with national events of great importance. Lynx News is fair and unbiased and only carries stories that everyone should care about."
"Such as,"
"Well you will not believe what is going on down south. There's this couple whose land is infested with alligators. And then there's this other feller who got arrested for having sex with a picnic table. It was one them circular kind with a hole in the center.. "
"Harlan, enough, that will be enough!" Big Bob hissed as he planted his large paws on his hips. "I came here today to tell you that the City Council has given me permission to write to the powers that be up in Denver and request that they send us a real Sheriff. So I suggest that you leave that cell, before I lock you in it, and march yourself into the front room. Once you get there I want you to toss every last bit of trash out and then sit at your desk practicing looking efficient. The way I see it, if you practice looking like your working long enough, when the real sheriff gets here and expects you to actually work, the shock won't kill you."
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