Monday, October 30, 2006

Scribbles and Scrambles - The Visitor

Thanks for all your excellent name ideas. I will percolate these over and over in my brain until I just randomly choose one. Though a couple of you suggested Kelly as a great character name…I agree…though I’m afraid in my caffeine induced catatonic moments while producing word after word to meet a self-imposed deadline – the use of the name Kelly in my manuscript could cause severe confusion resulting in brain damage. (don’t say it) Can you believe that the previous sentence did not receive a grammar tag from Word? Wow.

When I begin to post snippets of my story…you’ll see what name I decide to choose. Or I may ramble in a moment of angst…and beg for more ideas. Who knows. Maybe I’ll even change my quirky coffee loving character into a man. Fortunately NaNoWriMo doesn’t require good writing, just words.

Because Halloween is tomorrow…I have a gruesome, little snippet to share…I can’t resist.

This disgusting and revolting gift idea is brought to you by my cat. Her given name is Blackie, but I’m going to have it legally changed to Hannibal.

Don’t read this if you are eating.

Trust me.

Hannibal delivered a gift bright and early Saturday morning. This particular cat burns the candle at both ends (once, actually, she did singe her tail on a candle but that’s not what I mean). I mean she lives two active lives, one indoors, and one out.

One day last year, my husband, Rob opened the front door and let her in. She meowed. The meow, unusual in it’s muffled and passion concerned us. I said “sounds like she’s got something in her mouth.” At which point she opened said mouth and a live mouse scurried under the cabinet.

Yes. Our cat is a wonderful huntress. Apparently she wanted to add a little excitement to her normal boring inside life. A little exercise perchance? A comment on the food we serve? Who knows.

Back to Saturday. I open the door, extend my toe to step onto the porch and recoil.

Staring at me is a mouse face. Not a mouse, just its face. Silence of the Lambs style. This is a movie I cannot ever see. A friend told me all about it and I had nightmares. So imagine how I felt when a part of it landed on my porch. (Pun intended of course)

Off to the lower left of the face lay the mouse behind, complete with tail and one foot.

Twelve inches away is another foot and some truly unmentionable items.

I’ve been sharing this story since Saturday. Rob corrects me each time I do. “It’s not the mouse face, it’s the whole mouse head.” I suppose that’s the hunter in him.

When spying the mouse staring at me with its sightless eyes I didn’t even have the urge to bend closer to see if its face was still attached to the head. My bad.

Here’s hoping your cat doesn’t love you enough to bring you gifts, doggie bags, or new toys.