Winston, The Little Gay Dog, is already sitting at the table with pen and paper ready to take minutes.
Gypsy, the formerly gender confused cat, lays on his back in chair.
Goddess yawns.My Guardian Angel burps.
"Alright, let's get started," I say clapping my hands together.
"Wait," the Cat Lady says. "Somebody's missing."
My Guardian Angel shakes her head ... takes a shot of bourbon ... a very long drag from her cigarette ... chases it with beer... burps again ... pulls her robe back over her skinny white shoulder just before it exposes her right breast.
"The Gardener is not here," I explain.
"Why not?" the Cat Lady fires back.
"She's dead," I answer.
"Oh," the Cat Lady says taking her seat as cat hair falls on the floor reminding me of Pig Pen on Charlie Brown because whenever he speaks dirt falls from his body.
"What did she die of?" she continues.
"Oh Jesus Christ," my Guardian Angel explodes, smashing out her cigarette as another miraculously appears.
"We don't know," I confess.
"WHAT?" Winston TLGD asks before answering for everyone ... "Yes we do. It was a Gypsy curse that killed her."
This makes my Guardian Angel laugh. After taking another shot she points the lit tip of the cigarette at our little dog and says, "Of course it was."
Goddess yawns.
Gypsy's disappeared.
"I'm glad everyone could make it," I sigh. "Let's get down to business."
"What business?" my Guardian fires. "You don't write about us anymore! There's nothing to talk about."
"Who put the Gypsy curse on the Gardener and her underwear?" the Cat Lady asks.
"It's best you don't ask," my Guardian Angel explains. "She could put one on you too."
"I move the meeting be adjourned," Goddess yawns.
"Seconded," my Guardian Angel says while simultaneously disappearing.
Goddess and Winston, TLGD, quickly follow suit.
I'm left alone with the Car Lady.
"So who put the curse on ..." she begins but stops dead in her tracks when my wife pulls into the carport.
"You better go," I whisper and the Cat Lady flees leaving a trail of feline hair in our kitchen.
"Hey Babes," I say as Sarah gracefully makes her up the stairs.
"How was your meeting?" she asks giving me a kiss.
"Aw, it didn't happen," I tell her.
"Why not?" she asks throwing her bag down and kicking off her shoes.
"I don't know," I answer tenderly rubbing her feet. "They were scared of something."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I can't for the life of me figure out why they would be scared."
In the distance I hear my Guardian Angel snort... laugh ... spit a logy ... take a shot and ... laugh again.
