Can Hayden and his fellow cats put an end to the mysterious disappearances occurring at TALULA TUPPERMAN’S HOME FOR DISTRESSED FELINES before they fall prey to the same fate?
“…Shut up and enjoy the evening. Look,” said Stanley.
“There on the hill. Over there.”
“What hill? This place is nothing but hills.”
“There. There. Those two tiny pairs of lights.”
The light from the full moon lit Tiger’s and Pouncie’s eyes. They watched the shack from the highest pile of debris they could find. They’d followed the two dump-men this far, determined not to lose them. The two men had come to the barn after dark, as Pouncie predicted, and with their expert cat vision, the two cats followed the men along the road and through the dump to the shack. Now, they lay down, their chins on their paws, and watched the men.
“Oh, yeah,” Rodney said, getting to his feet. “I see.”
“Eyes,” Stanley said.
Rodney turned to his friend. “You’s what?” He sat back down and stared at him.
Rodney looked puzzled. “Why? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything? I mean what do you mean?”
“What do you mean what do I mean? What do you mean? You’re not making sense, Stanley.”
“I’m making sense? You’re not hearing sense. When I said I’m sorry, I didn’t mean I’m sorry for anything I did. I mean I don’t know what you mean?”
“You don’t have to yell.” Rodney shook his head. “You’re always yelling.”
“I have good reason to yell when your brain goes bling blang blung.”
“Don’t apologize, pay attention.”
“I’m not apologizing for anything I did. I mean I don’t know what you mean—bling blang blung?”
“Rodney, Rodney, Rodney. What are you talking about? What were we talking about?”
“You said I’s.”
“Yes, there on the hill, eyes.”
“There on the hill you’s what?”
“What do you mean, there on the hill you’s what?”
“You’re shouting again. You can’t say there on the hill I’s. You gotta say there on the hill I’s something. Like I’s hungry. I’s sleepy.”
“I’s hungry? I’s sleepy? That’s ridiculous and not even good English. And I didn’t say ‘I’s,’” Stanley cried, poking his chest with the fingers of his right hand. “I said ‘eyes,’” making wide eyes at his friend.
John Paulits has been writing fiction for over thirty years. His science fiction novel Hobson’s Planet was an Eppie award nominee in 2009. His children’s novel Philip And The Boy Who Said, “Huh?” won the Mayhaven Publishing Award for Fiction in 2000. His children’s novel Philip And The Superstition Kid was voted best children’s book of 2010 in a readers poll conducted by Preditors and Editors. His latest book, The Mystery Of Charles Dickens: A Tale Of Mesmerism And Murder from MX Publishing in London, will be available on June 6, 2012. He formerly taught elementary school in New York City and now writes full time. A born and bred Philadelphian, he lives in New York City and Brigantine, New Jersey.
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