Lucky Cat
Lucky Cat greets me every day. He is a white kitty and his left paw is always waving.
Lucky Cat is happy to see me. He knows I always bring a treat.
Mostly I bring Sardines and fancy cheese.
He prefers Gorgonzola.
Or so he says.
Lucky Cat has enough luck to spare. Back when he was born there was a lineage of divinity in his family. His brother grants money, his sister, and health.
Luck Cat got the total package, you could say.
Lucky Cat used to have another friend far away.
A big boy sang and sang and sang.
Lucky Cat thought it was the most delightful sound he had ever heard. When Big Boy had a good song he let Lucky Cat hear it first.
“Is that one going to make them happy?”
“Does it make you happy, Big Boy?”
“Is that one going to make them dance?”
“Does it make you dance, Big Boy?”
“Is that one going to make them think?”
“Does that one make you think, Big Boy?”
Big Boy never liked the answers Lucky Cat gave him. They were riddles. But then again, you wouldn’t expect Lucky Cat to serve it all up on a silver platter.
What worth would that be but Big Boy didn’t understand. It’s one thing to have a miracle following your every move but anther to have that miracle go stoic on you.
Maddening, actually.
That’s what Lucky Cat did. You just had to get used to it.
They were friends anyway.
Years went by and eventually Big Boy did all right. Better and better as time went by. I never knew him not to smile. Not even when he was pissed. Lucky Cat counseled him well. The smiling, that was Lucky Cats idea.
People would dance and think and be happy because Big Boys sang his songs. Took a while but it came along. Little by little.
Until one day Big Boy stopped singing. At least on this earth. Maybe somewhere else. Big Boy passed. All of a sudden he was gone. Lucky Cat hoped Big Boy was in Heaven. Lucky Cat could not see into Heaven. His ability wasn’t that strong. But he had a good feeling about it. And a good feeling with him was enough.
Lucky Cat never told Big Boy how he really felt about him. Sometimes people never do. It was unfortunate but not uncommon. And it was a lesson he never forgot.
Lucky Cat likes me but I know he misses Big Boy every day. We became friends about a year ago. Luck Cat was waving at me at the Temple and I figured my family and I could use some help.
But he still misses Big Boy. I can see it in his eyes. See right in and the damage is there. His mind is scarred but he’s still the best friend I’ve ever had.
I wonder what he was like when things were okay.
Five, Ten
You had five minutes to make an impression on me. I had ten seconds to get away.
I was at this Belgian café when I was seventeen and entertaining a couple of local artists. They smoked and ate cheese and chocolate. They were infatuated with me, the expatriate American.
I was touring France with a backpack and two pounds of high grade Arizona reefer. I smuggled it in an E.T. doll. Customs wondered what the hell the fat ugly thing was. I told them it was my ode to a pregnant Brigitte Nielson. I told them that I was a famous American artist from Maine.
One of them thought it was cool and gave me the number of his brother, and artist. When he told me the name of his brother I acted like I had heard of him. “Must’ve been in a New York art magazine I had read,” I said.
“Ya, ya,” he said in his broken Russian accent. I tipped my cap and was off.
I got the number of the fellow and called him. I figured that at least he might know somewhere I could stay. We decided to meet at his favorite café. He noted it was a hangout for painters and musicians. They all spoke English so I wouldn’t be in the dark.
I got there and met all of the folks. Funny thing id they all looked the came. Same Adidas soccer jerseys and khaki pants. More facial hair that I had expected, but it was Europe, after all.
The fellow told me his name was Vardis. He was named after an American author who wrote about the history of the Mormons. Vardis was quite happy about this and said he was considering conversion to Mormonism.
I told Fisher that the only Mormon I ever knew couldn’t get married in his own Mormon church because he had done LSD in college. Someone had ratted on him. The rest of his family had a service to consecrate the marriage while the newlyweds were honeymooning in America Samoa.
Vardis stood there yammering his fat mouth for four and half minutes and then let me finally speak. It was uncomfortable. Silently and excrutiatingly uncomfortable.
Thing is, when I finally got my chance, I had nothing to say.
Have you ever been dragged up one hill and down another? Jagged rocks and all that. A face that is steep and difficult. No chance of making it until blood was spilt?
Anyone ever yelled at you until you were beaten?
Berated?
This dude was a destroyer of Psyche. He got right into peoples minds and blew them straight to hell. My God the power that man had. The talkin’ was so sweet. I wanted to hear more and when he spoke you couldn’t stop listening. I prayed the whole time he would stop but the feeling was intoxicating.
And his eyes, oh his eyes. The people you know in life with eyes like that. One, two, three. You want to look at them. Want to look at that person so badly, and the embarrassment you feel when they catch you red handed. Looking at them.
There’s that split second. I caught you! You hesitate before you run away. God Damn that is the most distressing feeling in the whole world.
I’ve been on both ends of that one, baby. I gotta say I had to chuckle that time I caught you. This girl, that I once knew. I was ugly or beautiful, but I was something. Something that was worth looking at. She was looking and I was catching. She couldn’t tear away and I learned a lesson.
As Vardis held me in his transfixion I mustered the strength to break free, getup and amble away.
I never want to go back but I’ve got to tell you,
I was impressed.
