A Night at the Opera

(postponed from Monday)

It was going on 11 at night when Kevin Connor climbed onto the flat wall surrounding the Oldman house. He pulled his guitar up beside him. It was an old Western-style acoustic he'd found at a flea market, worn but much beloved and well cared for. He ran his fingers over the strings. Perfect.

Digging a hand into his Levi's pocket, he came up with a palmful of pebbles. It was a long toss from the fence to Brenda's window, but he knew he had an awesome throwing arm.

Three tries later he hit the target. The window opened almost at once and there she was—Brenda Oldman, the sweetest piece of cat-tail ever to sashay down the hallowed halls of Lawrence Talbot High. Rumor had it the Oldmans sported ocelot blood in their ancestry. That would account for the sexuality she oozed even though she was only a sophomore. Mmmrawr!

Kevin strummed a chord on his guitar, opened his mouth—and what the hairball, here came Ronnie Coulson, that kinktail spay of a senior, hefting his own guitar onto the wall. Kevin growled while he watched Ronnie set up. His butt tightened, lashing an invisible tail.

Ronnie raised his instrument, and only then noticed Kevin. The two juvenile toms hissed at each other across the length of the fence. "Beat it, kitty," Ronnie snarled. "You're only a junior. Seniors have dibs."

"Bite me," Kevin snapped right back. Both cats flexed their fingers.

"Boys," Brenda purred from the window. "No need to fight over me. Not that way, at least."

Damn straight. Why risk his strumming fingers punching Ronnie's lights out? Kevin cradled his guitar like a woman and started to sing, "Brenda, Brenda, be my friend-a, sit with me on the verenda, come and yowl with meeeeee … "

"Tastier than a tuna melt, plushest fur I've ever felt," Ronnie boomed from his end of the fence. "Eyes like jewels of purest green, whiskers like I've never seen, uh … " He hit a dischord when his voice faltered.

"You couldn't write a love song to save your life," Kevin sneered. "Stick around. You can play backup for me. 'Oh Brenda, how I love you, how you move me, how you groove me—'"

"'Groove me'?" Ronnie sputtered. "Your grandma write your songs?" He sang a snatch of polished lyric. After only two lines Kevin recognized it. "That's One Direction, you thief! You can't sing, you can't play guitar, you can't even be original!"

"Beats the scat out of 'groove me.'" Ronnie dispensed with words altogether and cut loose with a vicious lick. Ronnie matched him riff for riff. He stole several glances toward Brenda, but couldn't determine who she favored.

Time to up things a notch. Kevin undid the upper buttons on his shirt, exposing his scrawny chest. Not to be outdone, Ronnie shrugged out of his shirt completely. Kevin yowled with glee. "Where's your fur? Or are you one of those hairless breeds? Holy scat, that's it! And you've been telling everybody you shave your head to look cool."

Ronnie flushed a dark scarlet. "It's a condition, you mangy tabby!"

"Brenda, Brenda, sweet, sweet, Brenda, you don't want a baldo, no, you want a cat with fur. Let me lick your pretty ears, sweep away your baldy fears and make sweet love to youuuuuu—"

A bedroom slipper hit him in the back of the head. The kind with a hard leather sole. Kevin almost dropped his guitar. Ronnie did drop his axe when the slipper's partner clipped him behind the ear.

Both boys turned. Brenda's dad stood on the sidewalk, barefoot in a ratty bathrobe. Brenda's dad the construction worker, whose musclebound arms could bend an I-beam in half. Or so it was whispered in the hallways.

"I got a song for you pricks," he bellowed at them. "It's called Get the Hell Away From My Daughter Before I Rip Your Whiskers Out."

"Daaaaaaaaaaddyyyyyy!" Brenda wailed in a mortified coloratura.

"You get your ass back in your room!" Mr. Oldman yelled. Brenda ducked inside. The window slammed shut.

Kevin was already moving at top speed, off the fence and up the block. No telling what else Mr. Oldman had to throw at them. Rivets, maybe. He glanced back and got a final glimpse of Ronnie streaking to freedom in the opposite direction.

Three blocks away he dared to slow down. Mr. Oldman wasn't chasing him. He must have gone after Ronnie. Too bad for him. Kevin patted his guitar. "We won," he told it. "We're awesome." He checked the streets for Mr. Oldman one more time, then headed in a cocky strut for home.

# # #

Half a block up the street from the Oldman house, two bunnies crawled out from beneath an azalea bush. Now that the cats had all gone back inside, they could let their laughter loose. And did, loudly. "Oh. Oh my," Teena gasped, holding her stomach. "'Brenda Brenda be my friend'a.' Are you kidding me?"

"I love feline mating season," Burt said. "Better than going to the movies. I guess that's it for tonight. It's usually over when the fat cat yells. Hey, you want to come over to my house? Mom made carrot cake."

Irresolute

“Hey, did you miss us? We’re back! I don’t feel tardy. Van Halen’s `Hot For Teacher’ on 105.7, SHFT in Talbot’s Peak. You’re listening to Tabbs and Fuzzy on the Morning Hair Ball, back live after our post-Christmas break. Bet a pack of you were coughing up hairballs yesterday morning. Huh, Fuzzy?”

“What day is this?”

“It’s Monday. You look a little fuzzy, Fuzzy.”

“Are we in the studio?”

“One of us is. Tell you what, folks, while Fuzz-man screws his head back on, give us a call and tell us your New Year’s resolutions and how they’re working out so far. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!”

“Skimeister! How they hangin’, bro?”

“All the way to the ground, dude. Whoooo!”

“Oh scat, is that Ski again? I thought we banned him.”

“Fuzz dude! How’s that tail? Waving high or stuck between your legs?”

(Urps) “I’m gonna hurl—”

“Oops. I think Fuzz rang in both 2012 and 2013 the other night. Ski-man! Any resolutions for the new year?”

“Hell yeah, dude. I’m gonna drink more. I mean not drink more. Wait. I gotta think about this.” (Hangs up.)

“Don’t hurt yourself. You okay now, Fuzz?”

“I think so. There’s only two of you now. How did I get in this morning?”

“Cerise drove you here. She walked you to the door and everything.”

“That’s not right. She’s not a morning person.”

“She looked damned happy, all things considered. Hold on, we got a caller. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Hey, Tabby.” (long, sexy purr)

“Well, hell-o, kitty. How’s the new year treating you, darling?”

(Giggles) “Okay, I guess.”

“Howzabout those resolutions? Need any help breaking them?”

“No, I’m good. I wanted to lose weight this year, so I dumped my boyfriend.”

“Sooooo, you’re single now?”

“Yep.” (giggles)

“Well, sweetie-whiskers, we can’t have you going into 2012 all by yourself. How old are you?”

(giggles) “I’m legal. The cops said so.”

“Okay, I can work with that. You know I’m a tabby tom. What kind of kitty are you?”

“I’m an ocelot.”

“Exotic. Me likee.”

“I dunno, man. Your stripes and her spots, your kids are gonna look like a Rorschach test.”

“Don’t ice this for me, Fuzzy. She sounds hot. What’s your name, dumpling?”

“Gloria.”

“Ooooooh yeah. G-L-O-R-I-AAAAAAY! How about your claws? Keep ’em nice and filed?”

“You should see the trees out in back of my place. The bark’s all shredded.”

“That’s the way I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh. Are you—”

“Oh scat. Oh scat, Tabby.”

“Not now, Fuzzy. The master’s working here.”

“I think I proposed to Cerise.”

“You WHAT?”

“Uh … I’ll call you back.” (hangs up)

“New Year’s Eve. We were at this party, and it was open bar, y’know, so I … I think I may have asked Cerise to marry me. I don’t know for sure. Half the night’s pretty hazy.”

“Fuzz, what do you want to do that for? There are too many shes out there just begging for a hump. Why tie yourself to just one?”

“I dunno, man. It’s the wolf gene. We look for one mate and that’s it. Oh gawd. She’s a jackal. She eats all the leftovers. I’ll starve.”

“Deep breaths, Fuzzball. You can still get out of this. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Dog, you’re getting married? Helluva way to start the year.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Here’s what you do. South America. Lose yourself in the rain forest.”

“Won’t work, man. Her nose can spot a carcass three miles off. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“South America. Just sayin’.” (hangs up)

“Yeesh, Fuzzy, you sure know how to bring down the new year. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Nyah nyah, nyah nyah, Fuzzy’s on a leash.”

“So’s your alpha, scat breath.”

“Hey, bite my—”

“Yep, it’s 2012 and already rockin’ here in Talbot’s Peak. You’re listening to the Morning Hair Ball on 105.7, SHFT. Here’s a tune for the Fuzz-man and everybody else who did something stupid on New Year’s Eve. Nickelback, ‘Bottoms Up.’ Enjoy.”

Radio Gaga

“You could be miiiiiiinnnnnnneeeeee …. Yeah! Guns ‘n’ Roses blasting you out of bed on 105.7, SHFT, Talbot Peak’s only rock and roll radio station. You’re listening to Tabbs and Fuzzy on the Morning Hair Ball and we are coming at you LIVE! Well, with a five-second delay because Fuzzy here looks like he had one of those nights. Care to elaborate, Fuzz?”

“(Bleep).”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. What did I tell you about those cougars, man? You do not want to get on the wrong side of a cat. Now here’s Leon with the traffic report. How do the roads look out there?”

“Empty! How do you think they look? Everybody’s got wings or four legs. Nobody drives but the monkeys. Why am I even doing this job?”

“Because your dad owns the station. Thanks, Leon. I’ve got two exclusive passes to the Halloween Bash at Dante’s bar next Saturday. I’ll take the fifteenth caller. You’re number 12, sorry … number 13 … mrawr! Hang on the line there, sweet thing, I’ll get back to you in a second – you’re what? You’re in a pack-mating? Yow! Too rich for my blood … What’s your name, man?”

“Scooter.”

“You gotta be kidding me … you’re over 18, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh gawd. I mean, Scooter, you are caller 15! You get the passes!”

“Sweet!”

“You betcha. If you’re not over 18 now, you will be by the time the night’s over … hang on the line so we can get your info. Who rocks out with their cocks out?"

"The Morning Hair Ball! WHOOOOOOOO!"

"Yeesh. I think that one left the den before his eyes fully opened. What do you think, Fuzz?"

“(Bleep).”

“Geez, man, what is with you this morning?”

“My mate’s been running around on me. With a skunk. A wolf I could see, man, but … gawd.”

“What, her nose is broken or something?”

“He’s de-scented.”

“Whoa. You know what they say about de-scented skunks.”

“They’re going to be saying this one’s road kill if I get hold of him.”

“Y’hear that, Flower? Your days are numbered. The Fuzzinator’s on your trail. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Yeah, hey, Fuzzy? Here’s what you do with a skunk. Garlic and holy water. Works every time.”

“That’s vampires, man.”

“It is? Oh yeah … sorry, dog. I was at a catnip party last night. You try a leg trap?”

“I thought about it. They’re outlawed.”

“Oh, well, uh … ” (Hangs up.)

“Geez. I’m telling you, Fuzz, it’s waaaay too early in the morning for some of our listeners. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Freddy?”

“Cerise?”

“Cripes, Freddy. What is your problem? I am not running around on you. Certainly not with a skunk. Who told you I was cheating on you with a skunk?”

“My nose told me. You’ve got that roadkill stink on you.”

“I’m a jackal, Freddy. We all smell like that. You know how many baths I take to keep that wolf nose of yours happy? The one that’s way off base right now.”

“Yeah? Explain the hairs then.”

“The black and white hairs, you mean? My sister’s visiting. Her boyfriend’s a Dalmatian. You remember my sister, don’t you? You should, you were drooling all over her last weekend.”

“Uh … ”

“Not to mention I had to get up at 5-sniffing-30 in the morning just to talk to you. I’m spending the day with my sister and all the shed hairs on her coat. When you’re ready to apologize, you give me a call.” (Hangs up.)

“Holy scat, man. A jackal? Doesn’t that get messy?”

“She’s a neat freak. I know, surprised me too. The only real problem’s getting a snack. There are never any leftovers in the fridge. Cerise, honey, if you’re still listening, I’m sorry. Tell you what, let’s have dinner tonight. You, me, and your sister. I’ll make it up to both of you.”

“Fuzz-man, listen to the tomcat. Leave the sister out of it.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I don’t get this whole mate-for-life thing anyway. Why limit yourself to one lady when there are so many out there you could be making happy?”

“It’s a wolf thing.”

“Right. Morning Hair Ball, you’re on the air.”

“Fuzzy! Dog, you are sooooo whipped. Does she lift your leg for you too?”

“No, your alpha lifts my leg.”

“Yeah? Well, your alpha licks your – ”

“Annnd you’re listening to SHFT, rock and roll in the morning. Fuzzman and I will be live at Dante’s for the Halloween Bash. Local band the Poo Pelters will be playing, and we’ll be having tee-shirt and CD giveaways all night. Plus you get to see us, Tabbs and Fuzzy, live and in person!”

“Yeah. Talk about scary.”

“Fuzz, why are you even in radio?”

“Can you picture me on TV?”

“Good point. Why don’t we liven up the morning with some Ozzy? You’re listening to the Morning Hair Ball on 105.7, SHFT. All abooaarrrd, hahahahahaha … ”