Cripple Wolf Page 8

  The first night it really wasn’t a cat-house, it was more of a cat-lean-to. He slept beneath the cats, and while they did protect him from early morning rain, their incessant mewing made falling asleep almost impossible. It was nice having his head protected, but he really wanted walls.

  He got up at the first crack of sunrise and cooked up a hearty breakfast of baked beans. He thought about the coming day. He got a decent haul of cats yesterday, but he needed many more to finish his project. It was going to be a busy day.

  “RRRRAAAOOOORRRR!!!”

  “You must be hungry,” said Jasper. He walked over to the cat-wall, the pot of beans in one hand and a spoon in the other. He dipped the spoon into the pot and scooped out a heap of beans. He held the spoon out to the gray short-haired cat in the second to top row. Its little mouth eagerly gobbled up beans. Jasper moved the spoon on to the next cat in the row. He continued to do this, occasionally having to spoon out more beans, until every cat on the wall was fed.

  Once he had finally fed himself, he took his empty cart out into the city and caught cats until it was filled. He did this again and again and again until he completed six trips, the sun was beginning to set, and his clearing was filled with bound, doped-up cats.

  Jasper sat down on the ground, exhausted, and pulled a stepped-on cigarette out of his pocket. It was a little bent and smooshed but it was still plenty smokeable.

  While he enjoyed his break, Smut and Willy came walking by. Smut was a squat little round man who earn his nick-name for the child porn ring he use to run; its failing was the reason he was out on the streets. Willy was a tall, lanky man who was missing most of his teeth and had a face dotted with open meth sores.

  “What’s this you’ve got goin’ here?” asked Smut while looking around at all the cats. “You gettin’ into the butcher business.”

  Willy smacked his hands together and slobber rolled down his chin.

  “Oh boy, oh boy. It’s been so long since I’ve had me some good Bar-B-Q pussy. We’ll take three,” Willy said, holding out his left hand with four fingers up.

  “These cats ain’t for sale,” said Jasper.

  “Well what then are you going to do with all this livestock?” asked Smut.

  “I’m going to live in them,” answered Jasper while he took a drag on his smoke.

  Smut and Willy shared a look of pure confusion.

  Smut pulled Willy close to whisper in his ear. “It appears our dear friend Jasper has finally lost it. The stress of the modern world has simply become too much for him. Let us go on our way and leave this poor boy to his fate.”

  Willy nodded and they walked away.

  Jasper paid their exit no mind. A whirl of angles, figures, and blueprints preoccupied him. He finished his cigarette and stood up. He looked around at all the cats—there had to be over three hundred of them.

  He brushed some dirt off his pants and went to work.

  Jasper worked all through the night and all through the next day and even the night after that. As the first rays of morning light broke on his second day of work, he was finished.

  Standing fifteen feet wide by twenty feet long and a dozen feet high, it was just one room but it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all for one man and a bunch of cats.

  The house was a simple four walls and a roof design. All the cats faced toward the interior, to make them easier to feed and to keep their wastes on the outside of his home.

  Jasper walked around the house. Hundreds of tails flicked along the outside, making the house look like some strange furry-tentacle monster.

  He walked up to the back of the house, braced his hands on the “wall,” and gave a hard shake. Outside of an angry mew from inside, nothing happened. The building stood firm.

  He walked back to the front and opened up the door. The door was his proudest innovation for the house. It’s not easy to make hinges from cats, but he found a way.

  Jasper entered the house and shut the door. At once, hundreds of tiny heads turned to face him. Scores of glowing, sharp eyes stared and wondered what he was going to do next. He smiled back at them.

  “Don’t worry kitties, I’m not going to hurt you. Welcome to your new home.”

  At first it was difficult getting used to the new living situation, for both Jasper and the cats.

  Jasper had to work a lot harder to get enough food to feed all the new mouths. It took a lot more cans, or hunting out dumpsters in far flung parts of the city. Sometimes Jasper even went to bed hungry, just so the cat-house was fed.

  God forbid if he didn’t get enough food. The first cat that wasn’t fed would start mewing and then all the other cats would pick up the cry. Soon it would be so loud inside the house that Jasper couldn’t have a clear thought.

  But as time went on, he got better at getting food and after a few weeks the routine was normal for him. As he and his home were better fed, they both were happier. Once a week, Jasper had to shovel all the shit away from the sides of his house.

  It was a lot of work taking care of the cat-house but Jasper didn’t care. He finally had something that was his. Something that he made. Something that was truly his own.

  As time went on, the cats in the house became closer, beyond just their bonds. Before, one cat would mew and the rest joined in, but now they mewed together. Three hundred cats with one brain and one voice

  When winter came, Jasper couldn’t have been happier that he put all that effort into building the cat-house. Their body heat kept the inside nice and toasty. Jasper even noticed the cats seemed to like being bound together. They snuggled extra tight together so that the interior of the house actually got smaller, their eyes drooped and, in unison, they snored.

  By the end of the winter the cats were so used to their new situation that they forgot all about past families and friends. There was just them and Jasper, and Jasper felt the same way.

  As spring came, the clearing bloomed with purple wild flowers. Every night he lay in his dirty, dumpstered mattress and fell asleep as the purring of his house filled his senses.

  Then came the fateful day that was the end of his happiness.

  Jasper awoke one morning and before he could rub the sleep out of his eyes, he knew something was wrong. The cats were quietly growling. Their eyes darted about as if looking for some danger they knew was there but could not find. Their little bodies vibrated from frustration and rage.

  Jasper sprung from his bed and threw on some mud stained clothes. He tried talking sweetly and telling the cats they were “pretty kitties” but his house would not be calmed.

  He went out the front door and his entire body was swatted by a swarm of angrily whipping tales. He stumbled forward, temporarily blinded by all the fur and fell to his knees. Regaining his composure, he looked around. He immediately saw what was upsetting his house.

  On the other side of the lot, where last night a pleasant plot of wildflowers grew, was a house made of dogs. Hundreds of dogs. All shapes and sizes. Tied together, facing toward the interior, a building almost twice the size of his own.

  The door to the dog-house opened and out stepped a man fat enough to be in a circus sideshow. His T-shirt, stretched to nearly tearing at the seams, read “I Fuck on the First Date.” The beef-sides he had for legs were covered in dirty and torn light blue sweat-pants.

  As he left his house, all the dogs started barking at once. Jasper’s cat-house screeched and shook so hard it almost moved.

  “Shut up!” yelled the fat-man at his house, “Shut up, you fuckin’ mutts.”

  The dog-house quieted down.

  The fat-man waddled over to Jasper and grabbed Jasper’s right hand. The fat-man, who stood at least three feet taller than him, effortlessly hoisted Jasper to his feet while shaking his hand vigorously at the same time.

  “Well good mornin’ to yah,” boomed the fat-man, “you must be my new neighbor. Pleased to meet yah, I’s Herbert.”

  “Did you build that last night?” Jasper pointed at the dog-house. “
I’ve been squatting here for years. My house has been here for months. This is my home. You can’t just move in like this.”

  Herbert rubbed his acne-ridden chin. “Is that so . . .”

  Jasper waited for a response but none came.

  “That’s so,” said Jasper, exasperated. “This is my spot. I’ve was here first and your house is upsetting my house.”

  “Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhh, I’ll tell yah what,” said Herbert while slapping Jasper on the back so hard that it nearly took his breath away. “This is a big spot and I’m just going stay.”

  He waddled away from Jasper and when he got to his door he turned back around. “We’ll show ‘em that dogs and cats can live togetha.” He chuckled to himself and then went inside his house and shut the door.

  Jasper turned back to his house, its tails still twitching angrily, and went back inside.

  All the heads turned to him, their eyes all asking the same question—did you fix it? Did you make things better?

  “I’m sorry kitties,” said Jasper, “I’m . . . I’m not sure what we should do.”

  He didn’t see an immediate solution to his problem. Using force to make Herbert and his house of dogs leave wasn’t an option. He’d destroy Jasper in a fight.

  So Jasper decided to try and live with this new inconvenience. But his house was not happy with this course of action. Whenever the dogs barked, his house would start violently shaking with a cacophony of pissed off mews.

  The rest of the time, the cats silently seethed. They never seemed hungry anymore. Jasper had a hard time getting them to eat. After a few days, Jasper was sure his house was shrinking—the cats were getting thinner.

  Jasper stopped sleeping. In addition to the constant atmosphere of anger his house gave off, Herbert snored loud enough to disturb Jasper all night every night. Every few hours the dog-house started barking which then set off the cat-house. Herbert always seemed to sleep through that.

  After a full week, Jasper decided enough was enough. The sun came up and Jasper got out of bed from another sleepless night, put on clothes, and went straight out his door to Herbert’s. Jasper banged on the door, each knock punctuated by a yelp from inside.

  Herbert opened the door and stared down at Jasper.

  “Wadda yah want?”

  “This just cannot go on,” said Jasper. “I was here first. This is my land. I must ask you to leave. You presence and your house are making my life unbearable. So, now go, before I am forced to do something drastic.”

  Herbert stared down at Jasper. His face did not betray any kind of emotion.

  “Fuck off,” he said and then slammed the door. The door-dogs yelped.

  Jasper stood there for a moment, staring at the door. Not sure what to do.

  He turned around and walked back into his cat-house.

  Knock. Rawr! Knock. Rawr! Knock. Rawr!

  Jasper opened up his door and a thin, balding man in a suit stood on the other side. He held a clipboard and he jotted down notes while looking over the house.

  He went tsk, tsk, tsk under his breath.

  He looked at Jasper. “Good day sir. Are you a mister,” he paused and consulted his clipboard, “Jasper?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m from the city and I’m here to inform you that you did not get the proper permits to construct a structure of this nature within city limits.”

  Jasper didn’t know what the man was talking about. “‘Structure of this nature’? You mean, cats?”

  The man ignored Jasper and continued. “Now that I’m seeing this first hand, it is obvious that there is no way to bring this building up to code.”

  The man wrote something down on the clipboard and then quickly tore off a piece of paper and handed it to Jasper.

  “I’m sorry to inform you this,” explained the man, “but you have exactly thirty days to vacate your property before the city declares it condemned and it is leveled.”

  “Thirty days? What am I suppose to do? I can’t take this apart. I tried the other day to do that, just to get away from that jerk.” Jasper pointed across the clearing at Herbert’s house and was surprised, though he really shouldn’t have been, to see Herbert standing in his doorway watching the interaction.

  The man speaking snapped back Jasper’s attention. “Not my problem. You have been given your thirty day notice.”

  “What if I don’t leave?”

  “Then you’ll be bulldozed with your shack.”

  Jasper pointed at Herbert’s. “What about him? You tearing down his place too?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “He filled out the correct forms.”

  “But his house is made of dogs, mine is made of cats. What’s the difference?”

  “He filled out the correct forms.”

  “Come on-”

  “Sir, I must bid you a good day,” the man nodded at Jasper. “You have been given your notice.” And with that, he quickly turned and went speeding off.

  Jasper just stared blankly, not knowing what to do. He was going to lose his home. Not just lose it—they were going to destroy it.

  “Tough break neighbor,” yelled Herbert. Then he laughed and shut his door.

  Jasper stepped into Papa Scorpion’s hut. The small shack, assembled from stolen road signs, was way out on the eastern outskirts of the city, far beyond where any derelict normally wandered—unless they were looking for the services of Papa Scorpion.

  The small frail old man gestured for Jasper to follow. Papa Scorpion was dressed in clothes that were little more than rags with a bright red Members Only jacket over-top. It was hard to believe someone so weak-looking held so much power.

  Jasper looked around the inside of the shack. Books, papers, and jars littered two tables and a ratty bed. The inside walls were plastered with nothing but CAUTION signs and those signs that warn of electrical shocks that have the little guy getting blasted with the lightning bolt.

  Papa Scorpion took notice of what Jasper was looking at. “It’s best to heed their warning.” He wheezed out a laugh and immediately started coughing and gasping

  He took an inhaler out of a jacket pocket, took a puff, and regained control of his breathing. “Now what can Papa Scorpion do for you?”

  “I want to take vengeance,” said Jasper, “on a man I hate.”

  Papa Scorpion nodded and looked at Jasper. He regarded him for a moment and then smiled. “I know you. You’re the crazy guy with the house of cats.”

  “And you’re someone who calls himself Papa Scorpion.”

  Papa Scorpion laughed. “You got me there.” He turned serious very quickly. “I can do want you want.”

  He went back to a pile of junk and rooted around, pushing aside papers, books, and various crap. He then turned around and held out a glass vial to Jasper.

  Jasper took it and held up the vial, looking into it. It contained a small amount of clear liquid that looked, and moved, just like water.

  “Oderless, colorless, and tasteless,” explained Papa Scorpion. “Just that small amount will doom a strong man to death.”

  Jasper continued to look into the vial and thought of Herbert’s immense size. “I think I’m going to need a lot more.”

  Knock. Arf! Knock. Arf! Knock. Arf!

  Herbert opened the door and stared down at Jasper. “What do yah want?”

  Jasper held up his hands in mock defense. “No need for aggression. I’m here to make peace. As you know, tomorrow I must leave. I thought on my last night here, we might actually have a good time.”

  Herbert eyed Jasper with suspicion.

  “I got Bar-B-Q ribs and beer.”

  Jasper stepped aside and called attention to a steel folding table that was in between their two houses. It was covered with beef ribs dripping with sauce.

  Herbert didn’t need to hear anymore. He pushed Jasper aside and moved quicker than he had in years to the table. He immediately grabbed hunks of meat and bone and shoveled them into his mo
uth.

  “I’ll be back out with the beer,” said Jasper as he stepped inside his house. He emerged with two large glass steins of beer. As he took a seat he passed Herbert a glass.

  Herbert wasn’t the smartest of people, but he was smart enough not to take a drink he didn’t see poured. Especially not from someone who may hate him.

  Herbert made like he was going to take a sip but right before the stein touched his lips, he quickly set it down. “Ah love what yah did wit yah house. Lak the ruff,” he said pointing.

  Jasper turned to look at his house of cats. “Thank you, I put a lot of hard work into it. I’ll be sad to leave.”

  While Jasper had turned his head, Herbert slyly switched their glasses. That’ll teach ‘im, thought Herbert.

  Jasper turned back to Herbert. “But enough of that sad talk. Let’s eat and drink.”

  “Cheers,” said Herbert holding up his drink.

  And that’s what they did. They ate and drank well into the morning hours. For each refill of their steins, Jasper went inside his house. Each time he came out, Herbert would trick him in some way and switch their glasses.

  As the hour grew late and the sun was threatening to break, they decided to call it a night.

  “Yah know, yah not so bad,” drunkenly slurred Herbert while he hugged Jasper goodnight.

  That little shit doesn’t know I was switching the steins all night, thought Herbert, I ain’t stupid. He ain’t poisoning me.

  Herbert chuckled to himself on the way inside his home and promptly passed out on his bad.

  Jasper entered his cat-house, where there was nothing. He always had small trinkets around along with the many things he found or stole that he intended to resell. But not anymore. He had gotten rid of everything he could to raise enough money for the food, beer, and, of course, Papa Scorpion’s poison.

  The same poison that was in every glass both men drank that night.

  Fucking bastards. I ain’t never ever leaving my home, thought Jasper, This is all I ever had and no one’s taking that away from me. Not the city and especially not that fat fuck.