Squig stood on the platform looking down the tracks. The three o'clock train from Denver was due any minute. For once,He had taken all kinds of pains with his appearance, his badge and his boots were shined to a high gloss. His shirt and jeans were clean and crisply ironed. But maybe more importantly, instead of his old familiar Oriole baseball cap, he now sported a genuine cowboy hat. Yes, he had tried hard and felt now, at least he looked the part of a real western Sheriff. Although Dweezil would probably have something to say about that.
As he waited for the train that would bring his family to Katz City he tried in vain to ignore Harlan who had insisted on coming along. Harlan, too, had gussied himself up; but the effect of white boots, white, pants, white shirt and white cowboy hat complete with white feather against his puce colored fur was a bit much. Squig was trying to decide whether he looked like the weakest link on some kind of angelic chain, or like he was planning on applying for a job down at Lovely Larry's used car lot, when Harlan opened his mouth and started up again.
"So let me get this straight, boss." He chirped happily, counting off Squig's family members and their various relationships. "Dweeze is your best friend and Yvette is his mother. Now Annie is his adopted daughter and even though she's no relation to you, she calls you, Uncle. Did I get that right?"
Squig nodded yes.
"And the other cat who's coming with the group is Pixie,"
"Her name is Trixie, not Pixie" Squig harrumphed.
"Oh yes, Trixie is that hot looking babe whose picture sits on your desk and who calls you everyday. Boy am I looking forward to meeting her." He winked broadly and poked Squig in the ribs. "Do you think she's bringing any sisters with her who might want to meet little old me." The last bit was said with eyes open wide and purr embedded in his voice.
"That way," he continued elbowing Squig in the ribs, again, you and me could go on double dates."
"No, " Squig sighed for the forty fifth time, "she is not bringing any sisters, cousins, friends or acquaintances. She is coming by herself to help Dweezil set up his restaurant.
"But she might know some girls, " Harlan insisted.
"Harlan, " Squig said through gritted teeth, "You tell me how she's going to know anybody when she's never been here. "
"But she might meet some girls, make some friends, and then she could introduce me and we could go on double dates."
"Why, Harlan, I didn't know you were interested in the lovely Miss Tailer," Squig said in all innocence, with a smile. "Once Trixie's met her, maybe she could set you up. You two go way back, so it wouldn't be too hard."
"Very funny, boss, you're just hilarious." The rest of whatever else he had planned to say was cut off by the shrill whistle as the train pulled into the station. Finally, they were there.
TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Closing Down the House - Part 3
"Now, Lyla, honey, I don't want you to worry about having no place to go." Harlan said, rushing over to her side and taking her paw in his. "I can go and bunk in with Larry and Uncle Dave and you can have my place. I only got one key and I'll give it to you, so you don't have to worry about me coming in to bother you."
"Ah Harlan, that is so sweet of you, " she responded looking up at him.
"Sweet, but not necessary," Diane stated emphatically, as she removed Harlan's paw and pushed him away. Then reaching into the pocket of her kimono, she brought out a folded up piece of paper, and unfolding it said, "Because what I have here is a lease, signed by Mr. Felinerino. And it says and I quote, 'Mr. Felinerino can, at any time, give any of the tenants of his building a 30 day notice to vacate. And at the end of that 30 day period, said tenant must have vacated the premises.'"
Looking over at Squig and eyeing him up and down, she continued, "and I believe that you are Sheriff Igmeuwkowski, and not Mr. Felinerino. So until said Mr. Felinerino tells us we have to go, we stay. And once he does, we have 30 days to find a new place."
"Can I have that lease," Squig asked, crossing the room then taking it out of her hands, he looked it over. That was
Dweeze's handwriting on the signature and she had quoted the verbiage accurately. She was right. They had 30 days from the day Dweezil told them to go. The fact that at the time he signed it, Dweezil thought he was dealing with his wait staff and not hookers was irrelevant. They could stay.
"You're right," he conceded, handing the lease back to Diane. "You don't have to leave until 30 days after Mr. Felinerino tells you to. But I want you to remember there will be no, and I mean no fornication on this premises."
"And I'm going to have my spy eye on you," Harlan huffed pointing to his eye. I'm going to be sitting right outside this building watching who goes in and what's going on. You ain't going to be able to sneeze, that I don't know about it."
He leaned forward for emphasis and pointing his finger at them, declared, " and if any of you think that you're going to be able to sneak back into your fornicating ways, like I'm not around, well there will be a price to pay. I'm going to be all over you like white on rice. And you ain't going to have to worry about where you're next residence will be, because the lot of you will be residing in the city jail."
"Harlan T. Katz," Diane said dryly to the girl standing next to her, "hashtag scary, peeping pervert."
And with that the room erupted in laughter, as each girl envisioned what Harlan, with his spy eye on them would look like. In response Harlan puffed himself up again and Squig was so busy trying not to laugh, he almost missed the small white paw waving at him.
"Mr. Sheriff, sir, I have another question, Lyla asked, loudly, trying to be heard above the commotion.
"Yes, Lyla," Squig said fighting back the laughter that was threatening to get the better of him.
"What does fornimication mean?"
Squig stopped cold as his face turned a color of red, somewhere between a tomato and a beet. How on earth was he going to answer this without sounding like a pompous ass or more likely a jerk. Then he remembered something Dweeze had once said, and so he replied, "Well Lyla, fornication is another word for a very familiar four letter word, which starts with the letter f and rhymes with luck."
"Oh, " she responded as the meaning of the word became clear. "Oh my, that might be a problem."
"Diane Tailer, hashtag skankazoid," Harlan screamed jumping up and down. "Diane Tailer, hashtag, evil skankadella."
And with that, Squig clamped his paw over Harlan's mouth and strong armed him out the door, before this situation disintegrated further and he was forced to charge him with inciting a riot.
"Ah Harlan, that is so sweet of you, " she responded looking up at him.
"Sweet, but not necessary," Diane stated emphatically, as she removed Harlan's paw and pushed him away. Then reaching into the pocket of her kimono, she brought out a folded up piece of paper, and unfolding it said, "Because what I have here is a lease, signed by Mr. Felinerino. And it says and I quote, 'Mr. Felinerino can, at any time, give any of the tenants of his building a 30 day notice to vacate. And at the end of that 30 day period, said tenant must have vacated the premises.'"
Looking over at Squig and eyeing him up and down, she continued, "and I believe that you are Sheriff Igmeuwkowski, and not Mr. Felinerino. So until said Mr. Felinerino tells us we have to go, we stay. And once he does, we have 30 days to find a new place."
"Can I have that lease," Squig asked, crossing the room then taking it out of her hands, he looked it over. That was
Dweeze's handwriting on the signature and she had quoted the verbiage accurately. She was right. They had 30 days from the day Dweezil told them to go. The fact that at the time he signed it, Dweezil thought he was dealing with his wait staff and not hookers was irrelevant. They could stay.
"You're right," he conceded, handing the lease back to Diane. "You don't have to leave until 30 days after Mr. Felinerino tells you to. But I want you to remember there will be no, and I mean no fornication on this premises."
"And I'm going to have my spy eye on you," Harlan huffed pointing to his eye. I'm going to be sitting right outside this building watching who goes in and what's going on. You ain't going to be able to sneeze, that I don't know about it."
He leaned forward for emphasis and pointing his finger at them, declared, " and if any of you think that you're going to be able to sneak back into your fornicating ways, like I'm not around, well there will be a price to pay. I'm going to be all over you like white on rice. And you ain't going to have to worry about where you're next residence will be, because the lot of you will be residing in the city jail."
"Harlan T. Katz," Diane said dryly to the girl standing next to her, "hashtag scary, peeping pervert."
And with that the room erupted in laughter, as each girl envisioned what Harlan, with his spy eye on them would look like. In response Harlan puffed himself up again and Squig was so busy trying not to laugh, he almost missed the small white paw waving at him.
"Mr. Sheriff, sir, I have another question, Lyla asked, loudly, trying to be heard above the commotion.
"Yes, Lyla," Squig said fighting back the laughter that was threatening to get the better of him.
"What does fornimication mean?"
Squig stopped cold as his face turned a color of red, somewhere between a tomato and a beet. How on earth was he going to answer this without sounding like a pompous ass or more likely a jerk. Then he remembered something Dweeze had once said, and so he replied, "Well Lyla, fornication is another word for a very familiar four letter word, which starts with the letter f and rhymes with luck."
"Oh, " she responded as the meaning of the word became clear. "Oh my, that might be a problem."
"Diane Tailer, hashtag skankazoid," Harlan screamed jumping up and down. "Diane Tailer, hashtag, evil skankadella."
And with that, Squig clamped his paw over Harlan's mouth and strong armed him out the door, before this situation disintegrated further and he was forced to charge him with inciting a riot.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Closing Down the House - Part 2
"Are we all clear about my last point, that there will be no fornication, what so ever at all on the premises?" Squig asked looking each girl directly in the eyes."
"Mr. Sheriff, sir, I have a question," a small voice asked from the back of group.
"Step forward and ask away," Squig responded as a tiny white cat came to the front. She was wearing jeans, a pink sweater with a heart embroidered on the front and didn't look old enough to be in this line of work.
"And your name is,"
"Lyla Jane," Harlan whispered in his ear. Her name is Lyla Jane Simkins"
Squig almost jumped. When had Harlan crept up on him? He would have to speak to him later about that, but now he had to deal with this.
"So what about that is unclear," he asked.
"Mr. Sheriff, sir, what is a premises?"
"That is a very good question, and I want us all to be very clear about what I mean. The premises I am referring to is this building and all of the rooms contained therein. That means this bar and restaurant, your bedrooms and sitting areas, the kitchen and the basement. It also refers to the roof, the sidewalk out front and and the alley out back. There will be no fornication anywhere at any time in any area I just mentioned.
And to make that easier for you, a certain website entitled, 'The Katz City Escort Service has been shut down."
"You can't do that," someone shrieked.
"No I can't," Squig shot back. But Mr. Felinerino can and has. Since the location of this so called escort service is the Katz City Cafe and Mr. Felinerino owns the Katz City Cafe, he has instructed his lawyer to do whatever was necessary to remove it and as of today, it is no longer operational."
Squig paused momentarily to see how that news was sitting and seeing that no one had tossed a chair in his direction, decided it was time to drop the bomb.
"So, considered that your source of income has now dried up, you girls aught to consider moving to a new location. Let's see today is Friday." He paused and smiled at them. "I think by Monday every last one of you should be out of here."
"But Mr. Sheriff, sir," Lyla asked wringing her paws. "What if this premises is our home and we ain't got nowhere to go."
Squig hadn't thought of that and was at a complete loss for words. It hadn't occurred to him that any of the girls might end up homeless. He was caught between the rock of his conscious and the rock that was Dweezil.
TO BE CONTINUED
"Mr. Sheriff, sir, I have a question," a small voice asked from the back of group.
"Step forward and ask away," Squig responded as a tiny white cat came to the front. She was wearing jeans, a pink sweater with a heart embroidered on the front and didn't look old enough to be in this line of work.
"And your name is,"
"Lyla Jane," Harlan whispered in his ear. Her name is Lyla Jane Simkins"
Squig almost jumped. When had Harlan crept up on him? He would have to speak to him later about that, but now he had to deal with this.
"So what about that is unclear," he asked.
"Mr. Sheriff, sir, what is a premises?"
"That is a very good question, and I want us all to be very clear about what I mean. The premises I am referring to is this building and all of the rooms contained therein. That means this bar and restaurant, your bedrooms and sitting areas, the kitchen and the basement. It also refers to the roof, the sidewalk out front and and the alley out back. There will be no fornication anywhere at any time in any area I just mentioned.
And to make that easier for you, a certain website entitled, 'The Katz City Escort Service has been shut down."
"You can't do that," someone shrieked.
"No I can't," Squig shot back. But Mr. Felinerino can and has. Since the location of this so called escort service is the Katz City Cafe and Mr. Felinerino owns the Katz City Cafe, he has instructed his lawyer to do whatever was necessary to remove it and as of today, it is no longer operational."
Squig paused momentarily to see how that news was sitting and seeing that no one had tossed a chair in his direction, decided it was time to drop the bomb.
"So, considered that your source of income has now dried up, you girls aught to consider moving to a new location. Let's see today is Friday." He paused and smiled at them. "I think by Monday every last one of you should be out of here."
"But Mr. Sheriff, sir," Lyla asked wringing her paws. "What if this premises is our home and we ain't got nowhere to go."
Squig hadn't thought of that and was at a complete loss for words. It hadn't occurred to him that any of the girls might end up homeless. He was caught between the rock of his conscious and the rock that was Dweezil.
TO BE CONTINUED
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Closing Down the House - Part 1"
Against his better judgement, Squig had allowed Harlan to go upstairs and bring down the girls. He had begged and Harlan was a master at widening his eyes and embedding a purr in every word when he wanted something. He argued that since he was local and probably knew all of them, the girls would find it less threatening to see him rather than the Sheriff knocking on their doors. Well it might have been less threatening, but familiar was certainly noisy, if the commotion he was hearing floating down the stairs was any indication.
Squig was at the point of going to rescue Harlan, when he saw him herding the girls into the bar. He looked completely done in. His clothes were in disarray, his cowboy hat
and it looked like one of them had slapped him with her claws out.
and it looked like one of them had slapped him with her claws out.
"Hello ladies," he said with what he hoped was a friendly but firm tone of voice.
"Good morning Sheriff," they replied flatly, sounding more than a little annoyed.
"Now I'm sure that all of you are aware that prostitution is against the law in the state of Colorado. And it has been alleged that the Katz City Cafe is operating as a front for a bordello."
"Alleged my ass," Harlan spit out. "This here place has been a whore house for over 100 years."
"And your family's been running it the whole time, so just don't you start moralizing," hissed a tall white voluptuous cat in a bright red kimono.
"Excuse me miss," Squig asked in his friendly but firm tone of voice, "what is your name?"
"And your family's been running it the whole time, so just don't you start moralizing," hissed a tall white voluptuous cat in a bright red kimono.
"Excuse me miss," Squig asked in his friendly but firm tone of voice, "what is your name?"
"Diamante," she purred. "That's Aetalian for..."
"Nothin," Harlan spit out. "Your name ain't Dinomighty and you ain't Aetalian. I went to high school with you and your name is Diane Tailer, hashtag, slut."
"Oh," she whispered, adjusting the sash of her kimono. I believe I remember you. Aren't you Harlan T. Katz, hashtag, loser."
"Diane Tailer, hastag, trash bag." Harlan squawked, laying back his ears and swishing his tail.
She paused momentarily, carefully examined her deep red nails for any microscopic chip and then with a sideways glance and and a soft chuckle said, "Harlan Katz, hashtag, douche bag."
Squig was concerned. The girls were laughing hysterically and if Harlan puffed himself up any larger, he was in real danger of splitting his pants. So sighing deeply and with his friendly but firm tone of voice, said, "I'm sure we'd all like to sit around reminiscing about high school, but I think it's time we returned to the subject at hand, Now where was I." He said and began ticking off his talking points.
"Point one, prostitution is against the law in the state of Colorado. Point two, for a number of years the Katz City Cafe has been operating as a front for a bordello. Which brings me to point three. From this day forward, there will be no, and I mean no, fornicating on the premises,
"Point one, prostitution is against the law in the state of Colorado. Point two, for a number of years the Katz City Cafe has been operating as a front for a bordello. Which brings me to point three. From this day forward, there will be no, and I mean no, fornicating on the premises,
TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Thus far Squig had had an exemplary week. First, he's signed up for an online course on Colorado law enforcement. Then he'd driven over to the office supply store in Durango and bought some high end printable business cards. That evening he created what he thought to himself was an extremely classy card. It read:
Squigman "Squig" Igmewkowski, BS
Sheriff, Katz City, CO
302-911-5678
email: call911Squig@cmail.com
Feeling magnanimous, he'd created the following card for Harlan:
Harlan T. Katz
Deputy, Katz City, CO
302-911-5678
email: call911Harlan@cmail.com
Harlan had almost cried when he gave them to him and spent the rest of day staring at his new cards. He even sent one to his mother in Florida.
Then armed with their new cards they called on all the businesses in town and the ranches that were in their district. Yes, they called on all of the business, except one and that one was becoming a problem. Every morning Squig received his wake up call from Dweezil demanding to know if he'd shut that whore house down and every evening he received his end of day call demanding to know if he shut that whore house down. So on Friday, he decided today was the day.
"Harlan," he said looking over at his deputy who was sitting with his boots on his desk,
reading the paper. "today is the day we close down the cat house."
Harlan snapped to attention and marching over to the gun cabinet, unlocked it and started bringing down semi automated weapons. He was in the middle of strapping on his bullet proof vest, when Squig commented, "Harlan will you put those guns away, we're just going to talk to the girls. I've been reading the file on the place, and There hasn't been any trouble over there in the past and I'm not anticipating any trouble today."
"You cain't never be too prepared, boss." Harlan said pushing two pistols in his waistband."
"Harlan," Squig barked, if you don't put those guns down, I'm going to send you over to the Hairston's Ranch. They've reported a wild turkey creating trouble for their chickens, and I will go to the whore house by myself."
"But, Boss," Harlan whined.
"You have a choice. You can put the guns back in the cabinet and come with me. Or you can go as you are down to the ranch and deal with that turkey."
"But, Boss."
"I don't have all day, Harlan, make up your mind. What's it going to be, the cat house or the chicken coop."
"All right," he moped putting back the guns, ammunition and bullet proof vest. "But if we run into trouble, Boss, you just remember that I warned you."
"I'll be sure to do that. Now come along, I want to get this over with."
TO BE CONTINUED
Squigman "Squig" Igmewkowski, BS
Sheriff, Katz City, CO
302-911-5678
email: call911Squig@cmail.com
Feeling magnanimous, he'd created the following card for Harlan:
Harlan T. Katz
Deputy, Katz City, CO
302-911-5678
email: call911Harlan@cmail.com
Harlan had almost cried when he gave them to him and spent the rest of day staring at his new cards. He even sent one to his mother in Florida.
Then armed with their new cards they called on all the businesses in town and the ranches that were in their district. Yes, they called on all of the business, except one and that one was becoming a problem. Every morning Squig received his wake up call from Dweezil demanding to know if he'd shut that whore house down and every evening he received his end of day call demanding to know if he shut that whore house down. So on Friday, he decided today was the day.
"Harlan," he said looking over at his deputy who was sitting with his boots on his desk,
reading the paper. "today is the day we close down the cat house."
Harlan snapped to attention and marching over to the gun cabinet, unlocked it and started bringing down semi automated weapons. He was in the middle of strapping on his bullet proof vest, when Squig commented, "Harlan will you put those guns away, we're just going to talk to the girls. I've been reading the file on the place, and There hasn't been any trouble over there in the past and I'm not anticipating any trouble today."
"You cain't never be too prepared, boss." Harlan said pushing two pistols in his waistband."
"Harlan," Squig barked, if you don't put those guns down, I'm going to send you over to the Hairston's Ranch. They've reported a wild turkey creating trouble for their chickens, and I will go to the whore house by myself."
"But, Boss," Harlan whined.
"You have a choice. You can put the guns back in the cabinet and come with me. Or you can go as you are down to the ranch and deal with that turkey."
"But, Boss."
"I don't have all day, Harlan, make up your mind. What's it going to be, the cat house or the chicken coop."
"All right," he moped putting back the guns, ammunition and bullet proof vest. "But if we run into trouble, Boss, you just remember that I warned you."
"I'll be sure to do that. Now come along, I want to get this over with."
TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, April 6, 2014
"Well I'm glad to see you've finally gotten here," Harlan said dramatically as Squig walked into the office. He was carrying a mug of coffee and wanted to spend the day reviewing the files and making plans on getting to know the town. But it appeared that those plans would have to wait, since his deputy looked like his head was about to explode. He was dancing around, nervously and staring directly at him, occasionally clearing his throat. There was obviously something he wanted to tell him, so he decided his best course of action would be to let him get it off his chest and then he could spend the morning reviewing the files.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Har," What was his name? Squig thought to himself. They'd been introduced last night and he remembered that it began with Har.
"You bet there is," Harlan said emphatically. He had his paws on is hips and leaned forward as he announced. "We got ourselves a real situation here, boss."
"We do?" Squig asked taking a sip of his coffee. Mayor Hisston hadn't mentioned any particular trouble last night when he was filling him in on the town. "What kind of trouble?"
"A notorious mafia don is moving in here and bringing with him a gang of ornery orangutans."
"A what is doing what and bringing what with him?" Squig croaked almost choking on his coffee.
Harlan squinched his eyes in concentration and then walking towards the desk, spun around and said, "The infamous Weasel Felinerino has done bought himself the Cat House and he'll be moving his whole gang here."
Squig was shocked. What on earth had Dweezil bought. "Excuse Harlan," that was it, his name was Harlan, "What exactly is a Cat House?"
"A whore house. This Felinerino has done bought himself the town whore house, and what kind of feller would by a whore house, except a notorious criminal.
Dweezil was now the proud owner of a whore house. Squig started to chuckle and began to howl with laughter as pictured the Dweeze as the new Madame, no he'd have to be the Monsieur. What sort of hat would a monsieur where. A tiara, that was it. Prissy, particular Dweezil in a tiara presiding over the nightly activities of the local whore house. It would give a whole new meaning to the name, 'Chez Dweezil," He was laughing so hard, he started to cry.
"This ain't funny." Harlan sputtered. "He's got his so called sister, Yvette working as a Guidance Counselor over at the school. She'll be guiding the kittens right over to the whore house."
Squig stopped laughing. "Look here Harlan, " he said seriously. "You're right. This isn't funny. The owner of the Cat House's name isn't Weasel, it's Dweezil. And he didn't know it was a whore house. He's a chef and he thought he was buying a cafe. And Yvette isn't his sister, she's his mother. And she's one of the finest ladies I know."
"You know them," Harlan asked strangely silent.
"I grew up with Dweezil," Squig explained and I've got to warn him. He reached in his jacket, pulled out his cell, and quickly began talking.
"Hey Dweeze, I think you better sit down. No, I'm still the Sheriff and no it still isn't clear if the town is suffering from some sort of group dementia. This isn't about me. What do you mean, if it isn't about me then who is it about? It's about you. The Cat City Cafe is a front for a whore house. You Dweezil Felinerino are now the proud owner of whore house and the whole town thinks you're a mafia don and you have a gang called the ornery orangutans. Now Dweezil calm down. I'm sure this can all be worked out. No I don't know who started that ugly rumor. Dweezil we all know that slander is against the law. Yes if you want to hire a lawyer, I'm sure you can do that. But Dweezil, this is a really nice town and I'm sure we can fix this. Yes, Dweezil, I will go over there immediately and shut the whore house down. Yes, Dweezil I will get to the bottom of who was behind the slander. Now calm down Dweezil, this is all going to work out fine."
By this time, Squig was holding the phone away from his ear and circling his paw as he listened to Dweezil rant and rave. Having about as much of this fit as he could handle, he put the phone next to his ear and said, "Got to run now, someone just reported a crime."
Sighing deeply, he turned to Harlan and said, "You know, you were right. We do have a situation here."
And Harlan for once was silent.
Several days later the following full page add appeared in the Katz City Examiner.
Dear Citizens of Cat City I would like to introduce myself. I am Dweezil Felinerino a chef from Baltimore, Maryland. Looking to make a move for myself and my family I bought what I thought was a wonderful cafe in beautiful small town in Colorado. Can you imagine my shock and horror when I discovered this wonderful cafe was nothing more than a front for a whore house and that the town thought that I was a member of gang. I want to set the record straight. I am not now, nor ever have been a member of the mafia. I do not know any orangutans, ornery, jolly or even mildly amused. I am chef, and the Cat City Cafe will become a place you will be proud to bring your family. I intend to have the whole building cleaned, sanitized and every pest, insect or feline will be be promptly removed. And it is my solemn promise to you, that THERE WILL BE NO FORNICATION ON THE PREMISES.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Har," What was his name? Squig thought to himself. They'd been introduced last night and he remembered that it began with Har.
"You bet there is," Harlan said emphatically. He had his paws on is hips and leaned forward as he announced. "We got ourselves a real situation here, boss."
"We do?" Squig asked taking a sip of his coffee. Mayor Hisston hadn't mentioned any particular trouble last night when he was filling him in on the town. "What kind of trouble?"
"A notorious mafia don is moving in here and bringing with him a gang of ornery orangutans."
"A what is doing what and bringing what with him?" Squig croaked almost choking on his coffee.
Harlan squinched his eyes in concentration and then walking towards the desk, spun around and said, "The infamous Weasel Felinerino has done bought himself the Cat House and he'll be moving his whole gang here."
Squig was shocked. What on earth had Dweezil bought. "Excuse Harlan," that was it, his name was Harlan, "What exactly is a Cat House?"
"A whore house. This Felinerino has done bought himself the town whore house, and what kind of feller would by a whore house, except a notorious criminal.
Dweezil was now the proud owner of a whore house. Squig started to chuckle and began to howl with laughter as pictured the Dweeze as the new Madame, no he'd have to be the Monsieur. What sort of hat would a monsieur where. A tiara, that was it. Prissy, particular Dweezil in a tiara presiding over the nightly activities of the local whore house. It would give a whole new meaning to the name, 'Chez Dweezil," He was laughing so hard, he started to cry.
"This ain't funny." Harlan sputtered. "He's got his so called sister, Yvette working as a Guidance Counselor over at the school. She'll be guiding the kittens right over to the whore house."
Squig stopped laughing. "Look here Harlan, " he said seriously. "You're right. This isn't funny. The owner of the Cat House's name isn't Weasel, it's Dweezil. And he didn't know it was a whore house. He's a chef and he thought he was buying a cafe. And Yvette isn't his sister, she's his mother. And she's one of the finest ladies I know."
"You know them," Harlan asked strangely silent.
"I grew up with Dweezil," Squig explained and I've got to warn him. He reached in his jacket, pulled out his cell, and quickly began talking.
"Hey Dweeze, I think you better sit down. No, I'm still the Sheriff and no it still isn't clear if the town is suffering from some sort of group dementia. This isn't about me. What do you mean, if it isn't about me then who is it about? It's about you. The Cat City Cafe is a front for a whore house. You Dweezil Felinerino are now the proud owner of whore house and the whole town thinks you're a mafia don and you have a gang called the ornery orangutans. Now Dweezil calm down. I'm sure this can all be worked out. No I don't know who started that ugly rumor. Dweezil we all know that slander is against the law. Yes if you want to hire a lawyer, I'm sure you can do that. But Dweezil, this is a really nice town and I'm sure we can fix this. Yes, Dweezil, I will go over there immediately and shut the whore house down. Yes, Dweezil I will get to the bottom of who was behind the slander. Now calm down Dweezil, this is all going to work out fine."
By this time, Squig was holding the phone away from his ear and circling his paw as he listened to Dweezil rant and rave. Having about as much of this fit as he could handle, he put the phone next to his ear and said, "Got to run now, someone just reported a crime."
Sighing deeply, he turned to Harlan and said, "You know, you were right. We do have a situation here."
And Harlan for once was silent.
Several days later the following full page add appeared in the Katz City Examiner.
Dear Citizens of Cat City I would like to introduce myself. I am Dweezil Felinerino a chef from Baltimore, Maryland. Looking to make a move for myself and my family I bought what I thought was a wonderful cafe in beautiful small town in Colorado. Can you imagine my shock and horror when I discovered this wonderful cafe was nothing more than a front for a whore house and that the town thought that I was a member of gang. I want to set the record straight. I am not now, nor ever have been a member of the mafia. I do not know any orangutans, ornery, jolly or even mildly amused. I am chef, and the Cat City Cafe will become a place you will be proud to bring your family. I intend to have the whole building cleaned, sanitized and every pest, insect or feline will be be promptly removed. And it is my solemn promise to you, that THERE WILL BE NO FORNICATION ON THE PREMISES.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
After the meet and greet over at the school and a dinner that could only be described as delicious at the Mayor's, Squig sat quietly looking into the fire trying to make sense out of the day's events. He was in his own apartment. It was small, only a great room attached to the kitchen and one bed room. And it was located over the Sheriff's office/Jail, but it had this wonderful flagstone fireplace and the town had stocked the refrigerator with food. For the first time in his entire life, he had his own place. He looked around trying to decide where he would put his sports posters and Ravens memorabilia.
It seemed as though his entire life had changed in an instant. He was no longer Squig, the slacker. He was now Sheriff Igmewkowski and that had a really nice sound. Of course it had been several years since college, But he knew there were online classes he could take and some books he could order. It wouldn't take him too long to, as they say, get back in the saddle.
He stretched, yawned, and as he curled his tail around his legs, he realized that for the first time in maybe forever he had a purpose. So he made a mental vow, that he Squigman Igmewkowski, would be the kind of Sheriff this town deserved and he would make Trixie, Annie, Yvette and Dweeze proud.
It seemed as though his entire life had changed in an instant. He was no longer Squig, the slacker. He was now Sheriff Igmewkowski and that had a really nice sound. Of course it had been several years since college, But he knew there were online classes he could take and some books he could order. It wouldn't take him too long to, as they say, get back in the saddle.
He stretched, yawned, and as he curled his tail around his legs, he realized that for the first time in maybe forever he had a purpose. So he made a mental vow, that he Squigman Igmewkowski, would be the kind of Sheriff this town deserved and he would make Trixie, Annie, Yvette and Dweeze proud.
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