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This story was written by Ginny Moon
I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th There I was sitting on the top of a trash can lid and the question that kept
returning to me was - ‘Why Lukas Zandillion the 4th was left on a trash can in
the pouring rain?’ Why, right about now, I would have been warming my back by
a crackling fire and then my servant Miss. Amy would have tip-toed into the
room ever so softly and placed a saucer full of creamy hot milk under my royal
nose. A streak of lightning lit up the sky-bringing me out of my daydream and
showing me I wasn’t alone. Four, skinny street cats came prowling up to my can.
Their dirty, unhealthy tails waving tauntingly in the air. The leader of the group
was Jimmy T. Every animal from two miles around knew of this cat. Rumors
were that Jimmy T. had taken on the dreaded German Shepherd-,Dean.- that
lived down the block. The cat bragged that he had come out with only half an
ear gone! He also went around town telling that he-,Jimmy T,- had been run
over sixteen times, and each time done by tractor trailers. Why didn’t I believe
him? Well, for one reason cats only have nine lives…sixteen was out of the
question. Now, as the ring leader came lightly stepping up to my can, I rolled my
eyes in a dignified manner. Jimmy T. brushed his scrawny body against my trash
can causing it to wobble in a most disgraceful way.
“If you would kindly leave my abode alone, I will not question why you are in
‘my’ part of the neighborhood.” Jimmy T. and his three cronies snickered
darkly.
“And why…” Jimmy T. asked while shaking the can harder. “Is Lukas
Zandillion the 4th not in his ‘palace’?” A mangy tan feline hurried to answer the
question-
“Why boss, haven’t you heard? The miss died last Wednesday, and everyone
knows her daughter, Amy, was living for that day when she could literally kick
that spoiled, fat cat out of the house.” The tan cat paused for a breath of air.
Jimmy T. glanced up toward the top of the can and with a sarcastic voice
asked-
“Oh really now?” I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th, tried to look proud even though
my beautiful white coat was clinging to my wet, cold body.
“That is an untrue statement. The Miss did indeed pass, but my servant Amy
had to ’place’ me out here because the house is filled with smoke. Anyone
would know that she wouldn’t want the smoke to damage my lungs.”
“But she sure aint concerned if you get hit by lightning or catch death by
the freezing rain.” The loud mouthed tan taunted. I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th,considered his remake thoughtfully. Come to think of it, I had noticed how
servant Amy grumbled and huffed as she went about serving me, but never
would she forsake such royalty as me. I would show those scrawny cats. I
would step off my trash can, walk up to the door, and smile as servant Amy
would trip over her feet trying to let me in. That would show those worthless,
hairless creatures! Well, let’s just say I got as far as the ‘step’ but what I didn’t
realize was that the trash can was five feet tall. I tumbled down to the wet
ground causing my beautiful white fur to get dyed red by the mud. Regaining
my composure, I stepped lightly up to my front door and scratched loudly to be
let in. I heard the coming footsteps down the carpeted hall. Glancing back at
my poor, neglected tormentors I smiled a very smug smile. There it was the
beautiful sound of servant, Amy, unlocking the great, big door…for me! I could
already picture myself relaxing at the fire, warm and clean after a soothing
bath, and my stomach full of hot salmon. Servant Amy pulled the wooden door
open a crack and peered out into the darkness. The sweet aroma of apple
strudel wafted out of the kitchen. I tried to fit my large, beautiful head in
between the frame and the door. Servant Amy let out an obnoxious squeal as
my red, wet head touched her bare skin. Her black, eagle eyes glared down at
me, and with a scornful laugh she said;
“If you pompous, spoiled, overweight food consumer think you’re getting’ in
this house- I mean ‘my’ house, you are mistaken. Now, you either be a normal
cat like the ones behind you or hightail it outta here!” And with that said, that
horrible grotesque servant Amy slammed the door in my face. Behind me, I
could hear Jimmy T. and his gang laughing uncontrollably. I knew right then
and there that a war had started between me- ,Lukas Zandillion the 4th, and my
used to be servant, Amy. She would see who the boss of that house is. I
grumbled darkly under my breath.
After the worthless creatures left me alone-freezing, wet and muddy on the
top of my can, I began to think of plans. How could I, the richest cat on the
block , not get into my own home? The front door was off limits…I had already
tried my luck there once. I hadn’t tried the back door or the dog door. Oh!
Why hadn’t I thought of the dog door? But just as suddenly as my sprits had
soared at the idea, they as quickly(if not sooner) fell to the ground… I
remembered that we didn’t have a dog or a dog door. I placed my wet head on
my paws and fell into a fitful slumber…
I didn’t awake from my ’short’ nap until the morning sun’s rays warmed my
dirty body. My aching bones reminded me of my horrible night…and my dilemma
I was in. I was about to spring off the can to the ground when I heard
footsteps sloshing through the mud. Turning about, I recognized our mailman-
Mr. Jenkins. A sudden thought went off in my head like a light bulb. Mr.
Jenkins a typical busybody never once used our mailbox. Instead he would
knock at the front entrance trying his utmost to let his large cow-like eyes to
see any interesting nick-knack in my beautiful mansion. Servant Amy would
open the door to receive the mail while Mr. Jenkins scanned my riches. I,
Lukas Zandillion the 4th would dart in past the legs and regain my rightful place
in the world. I chuckled a deep, dark, throat chuckle as Mr. Jenkins walked
closer and closer into my trap.
There it was- the knock, advancing footsteps, and me. My body was tense
from the spring I was going to attempt. I had never done a spring before. Why?
Well, there never was a need for me to pounce on anything. Ah-Ha! The door
opening…my! Was servant Amy a sucker. Before Mr. Jenkins could strain his
neck to see around the door, I sprung. But I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th the
extremely ’lucky’ cat at the moment, sprung a little too slow…a little too heavy
I might add. I tumbled head first into the red, oozy, Georgia mud. Servant
Amy peered out of the door to see what the noise was, and Mr. Jenkins pulled
open the front door wider to gaze inside. Here was my chance-my last chance. I
didn’t know if I would have enough energy to plan another way of entering. I
jumped; Sailed through the air-into the doorway, past the wooden table and
then slammed into the bottom of the stairs. I stood on my wobbly legs and
shook off the dizziness of my leap. Then turning, I saw the most horrendous,
ugliest, cruelest face I had ever encountered in all my 17 years. Servant Amy
stood, legs apart, hands on hips scrutinizing the house. I followed her stare and
saw the chaos I had created and laughed wickedly. Oh! What a wonderful
feeling it was to feel wicked after being such a polite cat for those long years.
During my ‘flight’ I had splattered red mud on the flower print walls, pictures,
cream colored carpet…and the sparkling windows. Mr. Jenkins by this time had
made his way into the mansion and was gawking at all the fine furnishings.
Servant Amy whirled violently around and pounced on the mailman like a
chicken on a June bug. I cringed.
“You get out of my house this instant!” She screamed. “It’s all your fault-
leaving the door open that wide!” Then she flew at him, apron trailing behind
her, broom being waved threateningly in the air. Mr. Jenkins tripped over his
feet as he hurried in a bug like fashion out the front door. Noticing that it was
probably not the best time to be around Servant Amy, I waddled into the
seating room. The big, plush, satin chair that belonged to my late Mistress was
beckoning me. Still a little wobbly I slowly crawled up into the warm,
comforting folds of the soft chair. I was so tired I didn’t even care about the
mud stains I was presenting to the beloved chair. Servant Amy came stalking
in,- red in the face and huffing loudly. Her little, black beetle eyes scanned the
room for me-Lukas Zandillion the 4th. The thought suddenly occurred to me
how was I going to stand firm against the dreaded Amy? I had seen first hand
how she could make even grown men run for their lives. What I didn’t know was
at that very moment after our annoying mailman escaped from the front parlor
he ran helter-skelter through the town screaming at the top of his lungs these
words: “Everyone! Quick to the mansion, Miss. Amy has gone NUTS!” People
begun to poke their heads out of their windows and doors to see what was the
commotion. One old man tripped out of his house- still in his pajamas and
shouldering a shotgun. Hard of hearing he yelled after the vanishing Mr.
Jenkins,
“Robbers at Miss. Amy’s mansion!?” By this time neighbors had made their
way out of their house and sauntered into the street. The man in the pajamas
(who claimed to have been a general in the Confederate States Army) took
command right away.
“Order men-Order!” He bellowed out. “Men get your guns! Ladies stay in your
houses and bolt the doors!” With those commands out of his system he
marched off in his bedroom slippers in the direction of Miss. Amy’s. The
neighborhood men( who were quick to follow even though they didn’t have a
clue what was happening) grabbed up their pistols, shotguns and any other
weapon of defense they could get their hands on and followed the General.
A few cars slowed to a stop to let the odd party of men and guns cross the
street. One young man who was on his way to work considered phoning the
police…then remembering that he was down in Georgia changed his mind and
called the local newspaper instead. As the small army reached Miss. Amy’s door
the ‘Wildwood Gazette’ pulled into the drive and out jumped a reporter and
two camera men.
Now as all this was happening ‘outside’ of the mansion quite a different
story was happening on the other side of the walls. Miss. Amy knew that I, the
spoiled cat of her late mama, would never leave her alone until I got my way.
So, there was only one logical answer to her crisis. She was going to cage ‘that
beast’ and drop me off in the next town. (Which was a good thirty minute drive
away) Just as she was about to whisk the pillow case over my dirty body, her
front door was yanked open and a loud gun shot rang above the people’s heads.
“Where are the robbers Miss. Amy?”, Yelled out the General. Miss. Amy’s
stern face turned a pale gray as she turned and saw all the people in her front
parlor. “Flash!” A camera captured her confused face. I noticed how she had
to hold onto the back of the plush chair to keep from fainting away.
“Mr. Jenkins said” The General’s voice faded away as the reporter for the
‘Wildwood Gazette’ asked in his loud TV voice-
“Now who is Mr. Jenkins sir?”
“Say what!?” The old man yelled out as he stretched his ear lobe toward the
young reporter. The reporter took a step away from the man’s ear and
repeated his question in a louder voice. “Oh! He’s our mailman. He high-tailed
it outta here over yonder! ” The general answered while waving his weapon
down the road.
“Go find him immediately!” The reporter hissed in a low tone to one of the
camera men. I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th, was as much confused as my servant
Amy was at this weird scene, but when I noticed how she was quietly trying to
sneak out the back door, I started meowing as loud as my lungs would allow. If
this was some sort of punishment for her ill treatment of me I wasn’t about to
let my evil servant leave. Right about that time, the camera man re-entered the
mansion. But this time he was leading a frightened looking Mr. Jenkins.
“Miss. Amy, would you please come stand beside Mr. Jenkins here while we
record the interview?” The reporter asked in a commanding voice. Servant Amy
was so ill looking and frightened out of her wits that she could barely make it
across the floor to where her guests were waiting. The camera men set up
their large cameras on tall stands, and then nodded to the young reporter. The
reporter positioned a nervous Mr. Jenkins and Miss. Amy by the window, and
then smoothing his hair and straightening his tie he stepped in-between the
two.
“Here, the ’Wildwood Gazette’ is at the scene of a robbery that has just
occurred at the home of Miss. Amy Denis. With us here today we have a party
of courageous, brave men who, when they heard of the robbery from the local
mailman- Jenkins, gathered up their weapons and made their way to the home
of Amy Denis. Fortunate though, when Wildwood Gazette arrived at the scene
there were no signs of anyone hurt, just Miss. Amy Denis comforting her cat.”
The camera swirled around to me, Lukas Zandillion the 4th. Realizing I was on
TV, I sat up straighter and looked proud. “ Now, Mr. Jenkins, we understand
from…ahem…the…‘General‘… that when you saw the robbery take place you
ran down the road crying out for help. But can you tell us more of the story?”
The camera focused on Mr. Jenkins frail, trembling body. Under his lopsided
mail-cap, Mr. Jenkins’s mind begin to whirl with what did happen. Why…there
were no robbers…none at all, yet he couldn’t tell all of Dade county that
actually he ran down the road screaming because he was terrified of small,
skinny Miss. Amy. Why-how could he ever live up to his name when all the world
knew of him as a coward. The reporter nudged him forcefully to speak.
“Umm…well.” He glanced at Miss. Amy who looked as if she would die of
heart trouble. “ I heard ..umm.. loud noises coming from the inside of the
mansion” Being a busy body, Mr. Jenkins was very good at making up stories
and stretching the truth. So ,after he calmed down a bit he went right into his
false story with as much emphasis as if it really happened. “ Knowing that Miss.
Amy is by herself now that her Mama died, I knew I couldn’t leave without
seeing if she was alright. Well, I came up to her door and noticed it had been
’forcefully’ opened. So, I walked in and saw two men both wearing…umm.. red
shirts and masks.” Mr. Jenkins looked frantically about the room to help enrich
his lie…and noticed me, Lukas Zandillion the 4th. “And, then if you can believe
it that cat sprung through the air with the nerve of a Billy goat and landed on
one of the robber’s masked head. By that time, I knew I had to get help. I ran
down the road summoning all the men to get their guns. Now, even though I
pretty much saved the life of dear Miss. Amy I assume that wonderful, brave
cat scared off them robbers.” Finishing his version of the story, the reporter
and camera turned to the victim- ‘Poor Miss. Amy’ and asked for her version of
the robbery. Miss. Amy not wanting to make herself look stupid on the news,
and partly because she felt so weak could only nod her head in agreement to
the mailman’s story. Then of all the good luck, the camera turned back to me
and stayed on me for a good two minutes while the reporter asked questions
about the ‘heroic pet’. Now if you can believe it, Servant Amy did not once say
a negative thing about ‘her pet’. She didn’t even suggest that I, Lukas
Zandillion the 4th was a “pompous, spoiled, overweight food consumer” No, all
of a sudden, I was a famous, brave cat….in other words a celebrity. But all too
soon the amazing moment ended, and I was watching as Dave Land, who
reported live from Wildwood GA- Dade County was getting into the ’Wildwood
Gazette’ van and leaving our neighborhood.
You might think that my story ends there…but fortunately I can proudly say
it did not. For the next two weeks ’my’ story was talked of, my picture was
posted every where around Dade county and I was still living in ’my’ mansion.
Now, don’t get me wrong in thinking that ’Servant’ Amy and I were on terms
with each other. Not at all. We both knew that I had won the battle- and we
both had a mutual hate for one another. But I had my mansion and my servant
still . And Miss. Amy knew she could never get rid of such a valuable, famous
cat as…I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th!
returning to me was - ‘Why Lukas Zandillion the 4th was left on a trash can in
the pouring rain?’ Why, right about now, I would have been warming my back by
a crackling fire and then my servant Miss. Amy would have tip-toed into the
room ever so softly and placed a saucer full of creamy hot milk under my royal
nose. A streak of lightning lit up the sky-bringing me out of my daydream and
showing me I wasn’t alone. Four, skinny street cats came prowling up to my can.
Their dirty, unhealthy tails waving tauntingly in the air. The leader of the group
was Jimmy T. Every animal from two miles around knew of this cat. Rumors
were that Jimmy T. had taken on the dreaded German Shepherd-,Dean.- that
lived down the block. The cat bragged that he had come out with only half an
ear gone! He also went around town telling that he-,Jimmy T,- had been run
over sixteen times, and each time done by tractor trailers. Why didn’t I believe
him? Well, for one reason cats only have nine lives…sixteen was out of the
question. Now, as the ring leader came lightly stepping up to my can, I rolled my
eyes in a dignified manner. Jimmy T. brushed his scrawny body against my trash
can causing it to wobble in a most disgraceful way.
“If you would kindly leave my abode alone, I will not question why you are in
‘my’ part of the neighborhood.” Jimmy T. and his three cronies snickered
darkly.
“And why…” Jimmy T. asked while shaking the can harder. “Is Lukas
Zandillion the 4th not in his ‘palace’?” A mangy tan feline hurried to answer the
question-
“Why boss, haven’t you heard? The miss died last Wednesday, and everyone
knows her daughter, Amy, was living for that day when she could literally kick
that spoiled, fat cat out of the house.” The tan cat paused for a breath of air.
Jimmy T. glanced up toward the top of the can and with a sarcastic voice
asked-
“Oh really now?” I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th, tried to look proud even though
my beautiful white coat was clinging to my wet, cold body.
“That is an untrue statement. The Miss did indeed pass, but my servant Amy
had to ’place’ me out here because the house is filled with smoke. Anyone
would know that she wouldn’t want the smoke to damage my lungs.”
“But she sure aint concerned if you get hit by lightning or catch death by
the freezing rain.” The loud mouthed tan taunted. I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th,considered his remake thoughtfully. Come to think of it, I had noticed how
servant Amy grumbled and huffed as she went about serving me, but never
would she forsake such royalty as me. I would show those scrawny cats. I
would step off my trash can, walk up to the door, and smile as servant Amy
would trip over her feet trying to let me in. That would show those worthless,
hairless creatures! Well, let’s just say I got as far as the ‘step’ but what I didn’t
realize was that the trash can was five feet tall. I tumbled down to the wet
ground causing my beautiful white fur to get dyed red by the mud. Regaining
my composure, I stepped lightly up to my front door and scratched loudly to be
let in. I heard the coming footsteps down the carpeted hall. Glancing back at
my poor, neglected tormentors I smiled a very smug smile. There it was the
beautiful sound of servant, Amy, unlocking the great, big door…for me! I could
already picture myself relaxing at the fire, warm and clean after a soothing
bath, and my stomach full of hot salmon. Servant Amy pulled the wooden door
open a crack and peered out into the darkness. The sweet aroma of apple
strudel wafted out of the kitchen. I tried to fit my large, beautiful head in
between the frame and the door. Servant Amy let out an obnoxious squeal as
my red, wet head touched her bare skin. Her black, eagle eyes glared down at
me, and with a scornful laugh she said;
“If you pompous, spoiled, overweight food consumer think you’re getting’ in
this house- I mean ‘my’ house, you are mistaken. Now, you either be a normal
cat like the ones behind you or hightail it outta here!” And with that said, that
horrible grotesque servant Amy slammed the door in my face. Behind me, I
could hear Jimmy T. and his gang laughing uncontrollably. I knew right then
and there that a war had started between me- ,Lukas Zandillion the 4th, and my
used to be servant, Amy. She would see who the boss of that house is. I
grumbled darkly under my breath.
After the worthless creatures left me alone-freezing, wet and muddy on the
top of my can, I began to think of plans. How could I, the richest cat on the
block , not get into my own home? The front door was off limits…I had already
tried my luck there once. I hadn’t tried the back door or the dog door. Oh!
Why hadn’t I thought of the dog door? But just as suddenly as my sprits had
soared at the idea, they as quickly(if not sooner) fell to the ground… I
remembered that we didn’t have a dog or a dog door. I placed my wet head on
my paws and fell into a fitful slumber…
I didn’t awake from my ’short’ nap until the morning sun’s rays warmed my
dirty body. My aching bones reminded me of my horrible night…and my dilemma
I was in. I was about to spring off the can to the ground when I heard
footsteps sloshing through the mud. Turning about, I recognized our mailman-
Mr. Jenkins. A sudden thought went off in my head like a light bulb. Mr.
Jenkins a typical busybody never once used our mailbox. Instead he would
knock at the front entrance trying his utmost to let his large cow-like eyes to
see any interesting nick-knack in my beautiful mansion. Servant Amy would
open the door to receive the mail while Mr. Jenkins scanned my riches. I,
Lukas Zandillion the 4th would dart in past the legs and regain my rightful place
in the world. I chuckled a deep, dark, throat chuckle as Mr. Jenkins walked
closer and closer into my trap.
There it was- the knock, advancing footsteps, and me. My body was tense
from the spring I was going to attempt. I had never done a spring before. Why?
Well, there never was a need for me to pounce on anything. Ah-Ha! The door
opening…my! Was servant Amy a sucker. Before Mr. Jenkins could strain his
neck to see around the door, I sprung. But I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th the
extremely ’lucky’ cat at the moment, sprung a little too slow…a little too heavy
I might add. I tumbled head first into the red, oozy, Georgia mud. Servant
Amy peered out of the door to see what the noise was, and Mr. Jenkins pulled
open the front door wider to gaze inside. Here was my chance-my last chance. I
didn’t know if I would have enough energy to plan another way of entering. I
jumped; Sailed through the air-into the doorway, past the wooden table and
then slammed into the bottom of the stairs. I stood on my wobbly legs and
shook off the dizziness of my leap. Then turning, I saw the most horrendous,
ugliest, cruelest face I had ever encountered in all my 17 years. Servant Amy
stood, legs apart, hands on hips scrutinizing the house. I followed her stare and
saw the chaos I had created and laughed wickedly. Oh! What a wonderful
feeling it was to feel wicked after being such a polite cat for those long years.
During my ‘flight’ I had splattered red mud on the flower print walls, pictures,
cream colored carpet…and the sparkling windows. Mr. Jenkins by this time had
made his way into the mansion and was gawking at all the fine furnishings.
Servant Amy whirled violently around and pounced on the mailman like a
chicken on a June bug. I cringed.
“You get out of my house this instant!” She screamed. “It’s all your fault-
leaving the door open that wide!” Then she flew at him, apron trailing behind
her, broom being waved threateningly in the air. Mr. Jenkins tripped over his
feet as he hurried in a bug like fashion out the front door. Noticing that it was
probably not the best time to be around Servant Amy, I waddled into the
seating room. The big, plush, satin chair that belonged to my late Mistress was
beckoning me. Still a little wobbly I slowly crawled up into the warm,
comforting folds of the soft chair. I was so tired I didn’t even care about the
mud stains I was presenting to the beloved chair. Servant Amy came stalking
in,- red in the face and huffing loudly. Her little, black beetle eyes scanned the
room for me-Lukas Zandillion the 4th. The thought suddenly occurred to me
how was I going to stand firm against the dreaded Amy? I had seen first hand
how she could make even grown men run for their lives. What I didn’t know was
at that very moment after our annoying mailman escaped from the front parlor
he ran helter-skelter through the town screaming at the top of his lungs these
words: “Everyone! Quick to the mansion, Miss. Amy has gone NUTS!” People
begun to poke their heads out of their windows and doors to see what was the
commotion. One old man tripped out of his house- still in his pajamas and
shouldering a shotgun. Hard of hearing he yelled after the vanishing Mr.
Jenkins,
“Robbers at Miss. Amy’s mansion!?” By this time neighbors had made their
way out of their house and sauntered into the street. The man in the pajamas
(who claimed to have been a general in the Confederate States Army) took
command right away.
“Order men-Order!” He bellowed out. “Men get your guns! Ladies stay in your
houses and bolt the doors!” With those commands out of his system he
marched off in his bedroom slippers in the direction of Miss. Amy’s. The
neighborhood men( who were quick to follow even though they didn’t have a
clue what was happening) grabbed up their pistols, shotguns and any other
weapon of defense they could get their hands on and followed the General.
A few cars slowed to a stop to let the odd party of men and guns cross the
street. One young man who was on his way to work considered phoning the
police…then remembering that he was down in Georgia changed his mind and
called the local newspaper instead. As the small army reached Miss. Amy’s door
the ‘Wildwood Gazette’ pulled into the drive and out jumped a reporter and
two camera men.
Now as all this was happening ‘outside’ of the mansion quite a different
story was happening on the other side of the walls. Miss. Amy knew that I, the
spoiled cat of her late mama, would never leave her alone until I got my way.
So, there was only one logical answer to her crisis. She was going to cage ‘that
beast’ and drop me off in the next town. (Which was a good thirty minute drive
away) Just as she was about to whisk the pillow case over my dirty body, her
front door was yanked open and a loud gun shot rang above the people’s heads.
“Where are the robbers Miss. Amy?”, Yelled out the General. Miss. Amy’s
stern face turned a pale gray as she turned and saw all the people in her front
parlor. “Flash!” A camera captured her confused face. I noticed how she had
to hold onto the back of the plush chair to keep from fainting away.
“Mr. Jenkins said” The General’s voice faded away as the reporter for the
‘Wildwood Gazette’ asked in his loud TV voice-
“Now who is Mr. Jenkins sir?”
“Say what!?” The old man yelled out as he stretched his ear lobe toward the
young reporter. The reporter took a step away from the man’s ear and
repeated his question in a louder voice. “Oh! He’s our mailman. He high-tailed
it outta here over yonder! ” The general answered while waving his weapon
down the road.
“Go find him immediately!” The reporter hissed in a low tone to one of the
camera men. I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th, was as much confused as my servant
Amy was at this weird scene, but when I noticed how she was quietly trying to
sneak out the back door, I started meowing as loud as my lungs would allow. If
this was some sort of punishment for her ill treatment of me I wasn’t about to
let my evil servant leave. Right about that time, the camera man re-entered the
mansion. But this time he was leading a frightened looking Mr. Jenkins.
“Miss. Amy, would you please come stand beside Mr. Jenkins here while we
record the interview?” The reporter asked in a commanding voice. Servant Amy
was so ill looking and frightened out of her wits that she could barely make it
across the floor to where her guests were waiting. The camera men set up
their large cameras on tall stands, and then nodded to the young reporter. The
reporter positioned a nervous Mr. Jenkins and Miss. Amy by the window, and
then smoothing his hair and straightening his tie he stepped in-between the
two.
“Here, the ’Wildwood Gazette’ is at the scene of a robbery that has just
occurred at the home of Miss. Amy Denis. With us here today we have a party
of courageous, brave men who, when they heard of the robbery from the local
mailman- Jenkins, gathered up their weapons and made their way to the home
of Amy Denis. Fortunate though, when Wildwood Gazette arrived at the scene
there were no signs of anyone hurt, just Miss. Amy Denis comforting her cat.”
The camera swirled around to me, Lukas Zandillion the 4th. Realizing I was on
TV, I sat up straighter and looked proud. “ Now, Mr. Jenkins, we understand
from…ahem…the…‘General‘… that when you saw the robbery take place you
ran down the road crying out for help. But can you tell us more of the story?”
The camera focused on Mr. Jenkins frail, trembling body. Under his lopsided
mail-cap, Mr. Jenkins’s mind begin to whirl with what did happen. Why…there
were no robbers…none at all, yet he couldn’t tell all of Dade county that
actually he ran down the road screaming because he was terrified of small,
skinny Miss. Amy. Why-how could he ever live up to his name when all the world
knew of him as a coward. The reporter nudged him forcefully to speak.
“Umm…well.” He glanced at Miss. Amy who looked as if she would die of
heart trouble. “ I heard ..umm.. loud noises coming from the inside of the
mansion” Being a busy body, Mr. Jenkins was very good at making up stories
and stretching the truth. So ,after he calmed down a bit he went right into his
false story with as much emphasis as if it really happened. “ Knowing that Miss.
Amy is by herself now that her Mama died, I knew I couldn’t leave without
seeing if she was alright. Well, I came up to her door and noticed it had been
’forcefully’ opened. So, I walked in and saw two men both wearing…umm.. red
shirts and masks.” Mr. Jenkins looked frantically about the room to help enrich
his lie…and noticed me, Lukas Zandillion the 4th. “And, then if you can believe
it that cat sprung through the air with the nerve of a Billy goat and landed on
one of the robber’s masked head. By that time, I knew I had to get help. I ran
down the road summoning all the men to get their guns. Now, even though I
pretty much saved the life of dear Miss. Amy I assume that wonderful, brave
cat scared off them robbers.” Finishing his version of the story, the reporter
and camera turned to the victim- ‘Poor Miss. Amy’ and asked for her version of
the robbery. Miss. Amy not wanting to make herself look stupid on the news,
and partly because she felt so weak could only nod her head in agreement to
the mailman’s story. Then of all the good luck, the camera turned back to me
and stayed on me for a good two minutes while the reporter asked questions
about the ‘heroic pet’. Now if you can believe it, Servant Amy did not once say
a negative thing about ‘her pet’. She didn’t even suggest that I, Lukas
Zandillion the 4th was a “pompous, spoiled, overweight food consumer” No, all
of a sudden, I was a famous, brave cat….in other words a celebrity. But all too
soon the amazing moment ended, and I was watching as Dave Land, who
reported live from Wildwood GA- Dade County was getting into the ’Wildwood
Gazette’ van and leaving our neighborhood.
You might think that my story ends there…but fortunately I can proudly say
it did not. For the next two weeks ’my’ story was talked of, my picture was
posted every where around Dade county and I was still living in ’my’ mansion.
Now, don’t get me wrong in thinking that ’Servant’ Amy and I were on terms
with each other. Not at all. We both knew that I had won the battle- and we
both had a mutual hate for one another. But I had my mansion and my servant
still . And Miss. Amy knew she could never get rid of such a valuable, famous
cat as…I, Lukas Zandillion the 4th!
