The Education of Mr. Biggleton
BY
Joshua Bennett
Published by Joshua Bennett at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Joshua Bennett
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In a large farmhouse lived a very large cat. Not a fat cat. Well, he was rather round for a cat but even so he was just big. His name was Mr. Biggleton. That is what his humans had named him. He didn’t mind the name; it was a small price to pay for living such a spoiled life. Mr. Biggleton never lifted a paw for anything. He slept where he wanted, his favorite place being a basket full of clean clothes fresh from the dryer, and when he wanted. His food and water dishes were always full. He was scratched and patted regularly. He loved to sit in the window and talk to the birds that perched on the old tattered porch. The birds never spoke back; they couldn’t hear him because the window was painted shut. He had never been outside and he was quite glad for it. Outside, as far as Mr. Biggleton knew, was a dangerous and dirty place.
He would often watch Bill the old farm dog who lived on the porch chewing on all sorts of disgusting things, bones, rocks, sticks, and anything else that he found interesting around the yard. He could see the cows and sheep and chickens all of whom slept in the dirt or mud and never cleaned themselves. They stood outside in all manner of weather. Having witnessed all of this it was proof enough that the outside was no place for him.
One day after his second breakfast and mid-morning post second breakfast nap, this was, of course, the nap that he took between the “post first breakfast nap” and “early afternoon pre-lunch nap”, He found that his humans had packed some very large bags and set them by the door. “That looks comfortable,” he thought to himself, he hopped on top of one and sat down. There was a knock at the door.
“It must be Tommy,” the man said as he went for the door. He invited in a young man with a backpack and suitcase. “Tommy. Thank you for coming. This is my wife Linda, she’ll show you around.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you,” the young man set his things down and took a tour of the house.
Shortly after, Mr. Bggleton’s humans came by and shooed him off the luggage. He hopped into the window so he could watch as they loaded van and drove down the driveway, leaving Mr. Biggleton alone with the younger man.
A couple days had passed and things were fine. The younger man spent much of his day working on his computer or with his nose in a book. He was very quiet and liked it that way. He drank a great deal of coffee and gave little attention to Mr. Biggleton. He was very neat and tidy. Most importantly he kept Mr. Biggleton’s food and water dish full.
One day Mr. Biggleton woke up earlier than usual. He went to the window and peered outside. The sun was just coming up, it was a beautiful morning to be inside. Such a beautiful morning that he felt the need to sing about it. This was a rare moment for him. He jumped from the window to the floor and hopped on top of the couch. There he stood on the arm and cleared his throat.
“Meooow! MMEEEEOOOOOW! Meow, meow, meow. MEOOOOOWWWW!” He bellowed loudly
“Seriously?! Come on cat! Its 6:15! I was up very late studying!” The young man yelled from upstairs, as if Mr. Biggleton understood a word he said.
The singing continued. “MEOWWWW, meeeeeow, mmeeOOWW!”
The young man came downstairs, “That’s it, you’re going out. You need the exercise anyway. You’re as big as a horse.” He picked Mr. Biggleton up around the ribs leaving his hind legs and round belly dangling in midair.
At once Mr. Biggleton began kicking and squirming wildly, “what do you think you are doing?! How dare you pick me up like this! Put me down at once!” He saw that they were headed for the door. “DON’T YOU DARE! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE DOING!” The young man swung the door open. “THERE IS NATURE OUT THERE, DANGERS BEYOND YOUR WILDEST IMAGINATION! NO, NO,NOOOO!” He squealed and squirmed as the young man plopped him on the porch next to Bill.
“There now go find something to do,” the young man slammed the door.
“What about BREAKFAST! Now what am I supposed to do?” He paced back and forth angrily.
“Keep it down,” Bill said, not bothering to move. He lay on the porch with his floppy ear covering his eyes and his saggy lips mashed against the floor. His black and brown body stretched out, limp and still as if he were a puddle. He did his best to ignore the hysterical cat.
“Keep it down? This is an emergency!” He continued cursing the very existance of his offender. Pacing back and forth and pawing at the screen door Mr. Biggleton went through all the phases of acceptance, anger, denial, pleading for mercy. He even started yelling oaths of vengeance. He loudly plotted the demise of the man who put him out. “Oh the terrible things I will do to you mister! Ooooh yes, you just wait and see!”
Finally Bill couldn’t pretend to sleep anymore. “Shut up." he moaned. "You aint gonna do anything to anyone.” He stretched and sat up.
“But I’m hungry. What am I supposed to do for food?” Mr. Biggleton’s stomach growled loudly. He had been awake for two hours now without eating. This was an unusually long time between naps and meals. “And now my schedule is all wrong too.”
“Well,” He paused for a deep stretch. “There is some kibble hang’n ‘round my bowl over there,” he gestured at the old, dirty, dented metal food bowl with half chewed and old stale bits of kibble in and around it. “There’s that or you could go kill somthin like a normal cat.”
“Oh…my…god. You’re serious aren’t you?”
“When yer hungry ‘nough you’ll eat it. It ain’t all bad. I been eat’n it for years.” He stood up and strolled off the porch.
“Then what? Where are you going?”
“I gotta check the yard and the perimeter. Unlike you, I have a job.” He spoke over his shoulder as he walked around the corner and out of sight.
Mr. Biggleton’s stomach rumbled again, louder than before. he hadn't experienced hunger before, it was quickly agonizing. Suddenly the kibble seemed less repulsive. He looked again. No. It was still repulsive. However it didn’t require killing or chasing. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. In fact he wouldn’t know where to begin finding a mouse much less, he feared, would he have the physical ability to run a mouse down. They were quite fast, that much he knew. He walked to the bowl and grimaced at the sight of it. with an outreached paw he poked at a piece, it felt normal enough. “It’s probably a week old at least,” he thought to himself. He put it in his mouth and chewed and chewed and chewed some more. It was terribly dry, flavorless, and certainly stale. Not to mention too big for his mouth. Choking it down was like final act of a tragic play. He flopped on the floor, gagged, and tried not throw up his only morsel of food. When he finally settled he lay on the porch flat on his back, panting, and nodding off as if he had just completed the most gruling task known to man, or cat.
Aeminent later he woke up abruptly. Bill was back on the porch busily chewing on the large end of an old dirty baseball bat. It was mid-morning and the chickens were out pecking in the yard a few wild birds landed then flew off again just as quickly. The cows stood in the far distance. They looked as bored as ever. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yup.”
“I can’t believe they left me here to die. Have they left like this before?”
“Yup, they’ll be back in a couple weeks probably. They used to go on long trips once a year or so. Had the neighbors watch the house. This was all before you were here ‘course. The neighbors are too old to watch the house now. That’s their grandson what put you out this’morn’n.”
“You mean I am supposed to be out here a couple weeks?! What am I supposed to do?”
“Leave the porch I guess, maybe act like a real cat. Ain’t noth’n gonna hurt ‘cha out there so long as you steer clear the last stall in the barn. You’ll find plenty of food and water, ain’t as clean but it’ll do, and some good folks too.”
“What’s in the last stall?”
“N’er you mind just steer clear it. Go on now go chase a bird if you can, or a chicken. Gon, git,” he went back to chewing.
Mr. Biggleton walked to the bottom of the steps and put his paws on the grass for the first time in his life. It felt strange and somehow great at the same time. His belly hung so low that it brushed through the grass as he walked. A bird landed in the grass not far from him and began pecking around for bugs. Mr. Biggleton trotted over to greet the bird, which of course flew away immediately to a nearby branch. The bird flew back down, he trotted over again. The bird flew away, again.
“Dude, I’m trying to eat. You’re obviously too fat and stupid to sneak up on me,” the bird said quite matter-of-factly. “Go away.”
“I just wanted to say hi. This is my first time out of the house and…”
“Yeah right dude, hi, ok, hi back. There. Happy?”
“Ok, let’s try this again. My name is Mr. Biggleton and I…”
The bird burst into laughter. “Mr. Biggleton? Ha! Ok, you can’t make that stuff up. I’m Pip, but that works for me, I’m small and cute.” He made a few poses showing off his tiny physique. “You gotta change that name dude. Did your human give that to you?”
"Of course, what’s wrong with ‘Mr. Biggleton’"?
"Dude look at you. You are a huge cat. Not just chubby, which you are, just huge. You might as well call yourself Hugo McLardbutt or Fatty Fattington Or Belly O'roundbottom. Change the name if you want to be taken seriously as a cat dude." He bounced side to side as he talked, only stopping to bob his head around a few times.
"What would you suggest?" Mr. Biggleton said snidely.
"I don't know dude, I don't know." He stopped and stood very still. He stared into nothingness, almost bewitched. "Mr. ....Big...gle...ton, Mr. Big, Biggs, Biggy, Bugsy. No, no. Nevermind then I guess your stuck with it."
"So I won't be taken seriously as a cat because of my name?"
"It would help if you were a cat but you, dude, are no cat. I know cats, everything about 'em. That's why I'm still here."
"Look," he started to get a little angry, "tail, paws, claws, whiskers. Sleek frame. I'm all cat."
"Dude," he flew down from the tree and landed a short distance in front of Mr. Biggleton. "Try to catch me then."
Immediatly Mr. Biggleton sprang into the air, his arms flung wildly, his claws brandished like daggers and he roared as mightily as he could. The bird bounced a few inches to the left and stood still while the enraged Mr. Biggleton bellyflopped on the grass.
"if you were a cat you might have got me. You need to learn to be a cat, dude. Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is.
"How can I learn?" Mr. Biggleton was slightly winded from the excitement and sill lying flat on his stomach.
"Oryx, you must see. Teach you she will." He said as he bounced onto the cat’s head and stood proudly like a ship’s captain. "The way, I will show you dude."
. . . . .
“Esther.” Doris called out quietly. Esther didn’t hear the call; she kept pecking at seed on the ground. “Esther!” Doris called again, trying to yell and whisper in the same breath, she added a nasty look for emphasis. This last got Esther’s attention. “Come here, you must see this. You simply must.”
Esther rushed over to the edge of the coop were Doris was standing. “Is that, that cat from the house?”
“Yes I believe it is. And Pip is riding on his head. I think he’s running away from home.” Doris turned around and motioned for all the other chickens to come and see. “Girls, Girls! Look!” again trying to yell and whisper the call.
All the chickens gathered at the edge of the coop. after a few moments of gossiping amongst themselves they all agreed that the fat cat from the house was running away from home never to return. And pip was leading him out of the yard. The cat and bird continued walking down the driveway and around the corner where they couldn’t be seen by the gossiping chickens. The group of hens bolted to the other side of the coop where it connected to hog pen where Benjamin was sleeping in the dirt.
“Benjamin.” Doris whispered. He didn’t move, Doris wriggled her foot through the fence and pinched his limp tail gently. “Benjamin.” She sung sweetly. He didn’t move. She pinched his tail very hard this time, “Benjamin.” She exclaimed angrily.
“And why do you disturb my slumber?” Benjamin stretched and rolled over. He was a very large hog with black patches on pale skin made brown by the dry dirt.
“Can you see the cat walking with Pip?” She asked very sweetly. “Could you tell me where they are going?”
“They appear to be walking to the barn. There, art thou happy? Down the way the unlikely duo travel. There, art thou happy? To see fair Oryx I do believe. There, art thou happy?” He stammered to his trough and crammed his face into the bottom and slurped up his breakfast. When he finished the food covered his face from ear to snout. “Now, I return to my dreams. I pray you hen do not bother me with rubbish again.” He flopped into the dirt again and shortly after fell asleep.
Basilio the Cubalayan rooster flew down from his high perch and landed in the driveway, not far from the coop. He stood very tall and slender, he shook his bright red cape feathers into place and flicked his long black tail feathers outward so they stood up but draped on the ground ever so slightly. The morning sun glistened from his muscular frame. “Good morning ladies.” One hen fainted and fell into the arms of her neighbor at the sight of him. The others whispered about how ‘dreamy’ he is and how he smells like ‘fresh apples’. Basilio paused to soak in the adoration before he spoke again. “How may I be of service to you?” he asked.
“If you would follow that fat cat and find out what he and Pip are up to I would appreciate it?” Doris asked politely.
“Indeed, I shall return.” He puffed his breast out as scarpered behind a bush. He peered out to check if he had been seen. He had not. Staying very low to the ground he quietly sidestepped behind a tree a few yards away. From here he could clearly see the cat and bird go the hay barn. Basilio ran to the tractor parked beside the barn and stood on the tall exhaust pipe so he could peer through the upper window.
. . . . .
I am a Pastry Chef from Bellingham Washington. I will update this book with interactive images as soon as I can. I am working on several others including cook book and one adult thriller. Please check me out on Facebook or my web page at www.wix.com/rashersbbq/pastrychef.
Other books by Joshua Bennett
William the Green Shelled Turtle
Sarah the pastry Chef’s Apprentice