Grizzle and Bone
Gerhi Feuren
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Gerhi Feuren
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Grizzle and Bone
Shaw Peel slammed his ladle on the heavy kitchen table. "Would you believe that it is raining still?" he said.
"What do you expect?" said Crippen.
Shaw pointed at the dark corner. "You just shut up over there. I've got too much to do to have time for your nonsense."
The kitchen was tiled from floor to ceiling in pristine white. Shaw could not figure out how Crippen kept his corner dark. It was just the one of the things that he could do. Maybe he blended the light? Maybe he breathed out shadows? Somehow he managed it, because Crippen didn't want to change in the light.
"You asked. And you're already running late."
Shaw picked up a knife and pointed it at Crippen. "Shut up."
Crippen hummed a tune under his breath.
Shaw turned around and added another log to the oven fire. The big pot was just beginning to steam. Then he leaned over and inspected the bowl of peeled potatoes.
"You done these ones good, Crippen? I don't want any peelings."
Crippen chuckled. "No peelings in the Peel's supper."
Shaw glared at the corner, but he could hardly make Crippen out in the dark.
The boy chortled, shaking on his perch so that his cage rattled.
"You're not here to be amused," said Shaw.
The boy turned around in his corner and looked at the wall. He said nothing.
Shaw emptied the whole bowl of potatoes into the water.
"You got to put the meat in first," said Crippen.
"Shut up," said Shaw, "I'm cooking here."
"The meat is going to be chewy."
Shaw took up the ladle and shook it at Crippen. "If you do not shut your face about my cooking I'm going to chuck you outside."
"But it's raining out," said Crippen.
"I know it's raining."
"I'm a cat now; cats don't like rain."
"I don't care if you’ve changed into a black pudding. I won't be chucking you out to be nice about it, eh?"
Crippen turned his back on Shaw. His black fur disappearing in the dark corner.
Shaw flicked back and forth through his cookbook. He tried to whistle. To calm himself down. But he wasn't calm. This was an important supper. Minky was bringing her boss home and he so wanted her to be proud of him, and to make her look good.
She could use the break, the poor old thing. Being forced to go out into that cruel world every day to earn a living. Just because you had to do the same thing that everybody did. All the people doing the same thing every day, what a sick world it was. He shook his head.
Shaw sighed, picked up a knife and started chopping a bunch of carrots.
"Meat first," said Crippen.
"Yeaou," said Shaw.
"What?"
Shaw shook his hand, hopping around the table. "You made me cut my finger off."
"Do shake the blood around," said Crippen, creeping out from the dark in the corner.
Shaw grabbed a corner of his apron and bundled his hand into the folds. Then he pressed his hand between his knees, a pained frown on his face.
Crippen crouched closer. "Let me see."
Shaw came over slowly. He untangled his hand and held it out to Crippen.
"Aw, it is only the tip. You'll live."
"But you've made me cut my finger."
Crippen licked his lips. "Can I have a taste?"
Shaw pulled his hand back between his knees. "No you can't."
"Come on, just one little suckle."
"No, don't you touch me you bloodthirsty animal."
"What, are you scared I might become more human?"
Shaw shrugged and wrapped his hand in a dish cloth. "More human I can stand. I don't want you to be more you."
Crippen skulked around the legs of the table.
Shaw studied his bundled hand. "You'll have to do the peeling boy. I can't do it now."
The boy kept looking at the corner. "Why can't the cat do it? He did the potatoes."
Crippen had jumped onto the high window sill. The first rays of the sun were just peering in as the grey clouds lifted slightly, dusting him in a golden glow. "I'm just a werecat young man, a whole day before I'm able to chop again."
Shaw awkwardly felt for the keys on his belt. They hung on his left side. And he only had his right hand free now. "Come boy, somebody needs to peel the rest of the vegetables."
"I don't wanna do it," said the boy. "You can't make me."
Shaw opened the thin metal gate and pushed his right hand into the cage like a striking snake. He grabbed the boy and pulled him out by the scruff. "Just the rest of the carrots," he said. "A pumpkin and some cabbage. Then you're done."
Shaw smiled at Crippen as he dragged the boy across the floor. "Good thing the meat is not in the pot yet."
Crippen dropped his head on his paws. "No need to gloat. Lucky break on your side and the meat will still be chewy."
Shaw pushed the boy against the table and pointed at the chopping board with his wrapped hand. "The carrots."
"There's blood on the knife," said the boy.
"Wipe it off."
"I'll give it a lick," said Crippen.
"You stay where you are," said Shaw.
Crippen yawned.
Slowly the boy began to cut the carrots.
He is clumsy, thought Shaw. The carrots won't be nice and straight, looking like smooth golden pennies when the stew is done. It won't be as good as it could have been. Poppycock. He had no choice now. His hand was smarting too much and he could feel the dishcloth getting damp with seeping blood.
"Easy boy, you have a lot of chopping to do, steady get the job done," he said as he walked to the basin and rinsed his finger under the cold tap.
The knife clicked slowly on the chopping board. The pot bubbled on the stove. The rain pattered again, lightly tapping on the window pane. The pain flowed away in the cold water.
It was peaceful here. Shaw felt that all was still going to end well.
Then it was too quiet.
Shaw turned his head as the boy rounded the table, swinging the knife awkwardly from behind.
He slapped the boy with the back of his left hand, leaving a bloody streak on his cheek.
The boy tumbled over and rolled into a ball, rattling the cage as he bumped against it.
Shaw stepped back, holding onto the sink, breathing deeply. "Now what was that for you ungrateful little simp?"
Crippen chuckled.
"We take you in, we feed you and this is how you want to repay us? Attacking me in my own kitchen, with my own knife?"
The boy stayed rolled up in a little ball, sobbing loudly.
"Is it because I asked you to chop a few vegetables?"
The boy said nothing.
"Come on, is it? You can tell me if that is what ruffled you, because it is not such a big thing you know." Shaw wiped his brow. "I can forgive you for that."
The boy started to wail, loudly.
Shaw shook his head. "Come on. It is not that bad. Shut it now."
The wails grew louder.
Shaw stepped forward and picked up the knife. "Come on boy, what is it?"
The boy lifted a tear-streaked face. "I don't want to die."
"Oh you are not going to die," said Shaw.
The boy looked at the pot.
So did Shaw. I need to get the other vegetables in, before the potatoes are mush, he thought. Then he shrugged. "Okay, so you are going to die, but it is for a good stew."
The boy started wailing again.
"Told you to put the meat in first," said Crippen.
Shaw snapped his head around. "Shut it."
Crippen looked up from the bloody water he was licking from the sink.
"Get away from there," said Shaw.
"Tsk," said Crippen and slinked back to the window sill.
Shaw turned to the boy. "Let's get this over with then."
The boy was gone, the kitchen door swinging slowly closed.
"Aw shoot," said Shaw. "Not now."
"He’s running now, the meat is going to be really chewy," said Crippen, "if you catch him."
Shaw started for the door and pointed at Crippen with the knife. "If I don't get him you go in the pot."
Crippen shrugged.
Shaw called up the stairs. "Boy?"
There was only one way out of the kitchen, up. But all the stairs creaked and he had heard nothing. It was a sharp turn to the stairs. Maybe the boy had rushed past them too fast and was now somewhere in the other half of the basement.
Shaw did not like the other half. His side was the kitchen. It was safe and warm in there. Just as he liked it.
But the other half was Minky's. And it was cold and damp. And she had cobwebs. Come on, who still had cobwebs? They were so ... last season.
She said she liked the atmosphere so Shaw let her. But still? Cobwebs?
Shaw pushed lightly on the heavy black door. "Boy?"
Something scratched inside.
The boy, or a rat. Could be a rat, Shaw thought. Just like Minky to bring in a rat as well. And Crippen would let her, useless pest control he was.
But then again, she had it hard. Going out every day, into that bright, cold world. Doing that nine-to-five thing, just so they could keep up appearances. Insidious appearances.
Peel pushed the door halfway open. Minky's room lay gloomily on the other side. He really didn't want to go in there. Minky dabbled in some nasty stuff. Filing for instance. She filed stuff. Ugh.
He shivered. "Boy?"
There was a sharp tap behind him. "Shaw Peel?"
Minky stood on the stairs. Every one of them creaked, but Minky could still get up and down them without making a sound. She had her hands on her hips. "What are you doing in my room, Shaw Peel?"
"Nothing," said Shaw.
Minky stepped down the steps, her hips whispering seductively in the black silk skirt. "Dinner going well?"
Shaw rubbed his hands together. "Yes," he said, “making stew.”
Minky stepped over and pecked him on the cheek. "We'll be here just after six."
"Right."
Something scraped behind Shaw.
He stiffened.
"Just a moment," said Minky. She stepped in close to him again and licked his other cheek. "There, just a little blood."
Shaw breathed again.
Minky slapped him lightly on the chest. "And I thought you were a fastidious chef?"
"He struggled a bit," said Shaw.
"Just as long as the meat is not chewy," said Minky. "You know how it gets stuck in my teeth. And Mister Button has dentures I believe."
"No," said Shaw, nodding his head. "The meat will be tender dear, don't you worry your pretty bun a bit."
"Toodle-oo then," said Minky. "Back to your kitchen."
Shaw walked slowly over to the kitchen door. Minky stood on the top stair, waiting. Watching him open the door and enter.
Shaw leaned against the door from the kitchen's side. He listened intently, for any sound of someone coming down, or going up the stairs.
That nuisance boy better stay put till Minky was gone. Cat stew is no good, thought Shaw.
Shaw counted to ten and then pushed the kitchen door open again. It sounded quiet upstairs. But that meant nothing. Minky could move like a ghost.
He watched her door. One minute, then he'd go in there and get him. Time dragged by too slowly, but Shaw waited more than a minute before he ventured across.
He pulled the door open fast and stepped inside, his back pressed against the heavy ironwood. Shaw glanced slowly across the gloomy room. A whole lot of places to hide here. "I know you're in here boy, no need to delay the inevitable."
"Do you want to play Hot and Cold?" said Crippen, lying dead still on the window sill.
"I don't need your help," said Shaw as he stepped around the room, moving slowly in behind the desk.
"You were a nudge warmer just now," said Crippen.
Shaw leaned over slowly looking into the dark dugout under the desk.
"Getting a tad colder," said Crippen.
Shaw stopped. Crippen was beginning to annoy him. He clenched a fist and shook it at Crippen. Shut up, he mouthed.
Crippen rolled his eyes.
Shaw stepped behind the desk and peered in between two filing cabinets.
Crippen gave a deep sigh.
Shaw shook himself. "What is it?"
"Ice cold," said Crippen.
"I don't--"
A chest lid across the room dropped shut with a loud bang and Shaw jumped round. A little chubby figure was making for the door.
"Oh no you don't," said Shaw rushing over.
Shaw's left foot grazed a crystal ball. He put out his left hand to steady himself against the desk. As his wrapped hand bumped the desk a shudder shot up his arm.
He pulled back the other way and got a face full of cobwebs. Shaw tore wildly at his head. His elbow knocked a candelabra.
The nine lit candles toppled onto the desk.
A stack of yet to be filed papers on the desk burst into green flames.
Shaw threw the bundle of cobwebs on the floor and stomped on it, breathing deeply.
The boy stopped at the door, turning around, his eyes going wide, his jaw slack.
Then Shaw saw the flames.
"Wow," said the boy.
Idiot, thought Shaw, as they eyed each other for a moment.
"You get him fluffy," said Crippen.
The boy feigned left and Shaw moved with him. Then he feigned right and Shaw followed. Then the boy did a quick left-right and jumped left for the dugout under the desk.
Shaw rushed at him but missed, banging into the portrait of Minky's aunt Gretel, beside the door.
As he turned around the room was all in a blaze. "Crippen?" he said.
"Way ahead of you dumb-ass."
Shaw grabbed the picture of aunt Gretel and stepped out, slamming the door behind him. Minky is going to be miffed, he thought.
The basement roof was vaulted stone. The fire would burn itself out, eventually.
***
"This meat is really scrumptious," said Mister Button, wiping the grease from his chin. He held up his plate. "If I may be so bold to ask for a third helping?"
Crippen pulled a toothpick out of his mouth and stuck it in the top pocket of his blazer. "Maybe you should ask for the recipe," he said.
Shaw lifted his eyebrows and glared at Crippen.
"Oh I wouldn't dare," said Mister Button. "Probably an old family recipe, right?"
"Yes sir," said Shaw.
"You certainly have outdone yourself tonight Shaw my darling." said Minky. "You have done ... something different?"
"Whatever it is, delicious," said Mister Button, "tender with just that nice crackling. I can't say I have tasted anything like it before. Might I be so bold as at least to ask what kind of meat you used?"
"Cat," said Crippen.
Mister Button's eyes drew wide. "Surely not," he said.
"No, of course not," said Shaw. "Crippen here just likes to make cruel jokes. Enough of that now, Crippen."
"Did you smoke the meat?" said Minky.
Shaw lifted a basket on the table. "Bread anyone?"
"Oh, I won't impose any further," said Mister Button. "Clearly a long and deep family tradition you have. Every family is entitled to some secrets."
Shaw turned to Mister Button. "Would you like to crack a bone for the marrow sir?"
Mister Button gave a greasy nod.
He took the bone by the knuckle end and pointed at a painting of a portly woman in grey, leaning against the fireplace. "Did you get your love of food from your mother, Mister Peel?"
"Oh no, that's not my mother's painting sir. That's Minky's aunt Gretel."
"Lovely woman," said Mister Button.
Minky smiled stiffly and turned to Shaw. "Remind me again darling, why is Aunt Gretel's portrait in the dining room?"
Shaw filled Minky's plate from the pot. "Eat up dear. You'll never taste the likes of this again."
"No, you won't," said Crippen.
###
About the author:
Gerhi Feuren's writings has appeared in many bestseller books (scribbled in the margins) and on famous websites (in the comment sections).
When he is not defacing library property or surfing the internet, Gerhi writes and illustrates fiction to delight, engross and entertain through the satyrical, ludicrous and absurd.
Discover other titles by Gerhi Feuren at Smashwords.com
Connect with Gerhi Feuren online:
Website: http://www.gerhi.com
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