Role Models: My Desert Island Companions

If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you most want to be stranded with?

I’ve heard this question before, but never gave it serious thought until now. Of course, I’d want to take along someone who’s been an inspiration or role model, or at least someone interesting or fun to hang around (along with a few other reasons). So, I humbly submit my list of people (past and present, real and fictional), that I’d like to accompany me on this deserted island.

Dave Mustaine - The lead guitarist and singer of the heavy metal band, Megadeth. Besides being a tremendously talented musician and songwriter, he is intelligent, and extremely opinionated on a variety of social and political issues. He’s also led a tumultuous life, both personally and professionally. To pass the time, I could pick his brain about his lyrics, his views on the world, how he managed to go through the tortures of addiction and recovery, and why Megadeth really is a better band than Metallica.

Stephen King - My favorite author. He could entertain me with his stories, even if having the crap scared out of you on a deserted island may not really seem like a good idea, especially at night.

Christopher Walken - For two reasons. First, if Mr. Walken told Stephen King’s stories, they’d be twice as scary. Second, I would have him teach me to talk like he does because, if I were ever rescued and went back to my old teaching job, I could terrify my students with the mere sound of my voice.

Barrack Obama - I’d want to let him know what an inspiration he’s been, not just to voters, but to the kids in my classroom. Until then, I’ve never heard 7th graders take an interest in politics. Some of them even wear Obama tee-shirts (I’ve never seen a kid wearing a George W. Bush tee). Then again, if he’s stuck on the island with me, who the heck is running the country???

Louis Black - My favorite comedian. Listening to him rant about the current state of our country might make being stranded on a desert island seem not so bad.

Chuck Norris - If nothing else, Chuck could jump into the ocean and push the island back toward civilization.

Steve McQueen - The coolest guy ever. I’ve never been cool, and I figure, with all this spare time on my hands, I can take lessons from the master. Besides, if you’ve ever seen Papillon, you know Mr. McQueen actually escaped from an island...twice.

Spongebob Squarepants - Because his voice makes me laugh.

Steven Seagal - No, I’m not a Steven Seagal fan. In fact, I can name all the movies of his I actually like on one finger (Under Siege). But, as much as I enjoy listening to Spongebob, that grating, high-pitched voice will eventually drive me up the wall, and I will need someone to silence him...permanently.

Captain Nemo - The nefarious, renegade sea captain of the Nautilus from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Mysterious Island. If there’s anyone who possesses the ability to use his intellect and ingenuity to get us off this island, he’s the man. Then again, given Nemo’s overall contempt of the human race, the real trick would be convincing him to do it at all.

Paris Hilton - Because, if I was ever rescued, I would leave her behind to fend for herself. In ridding the world of someone who’s famous for absolutely nothing, perhaps I’d get some kid of award.

Snake Plissken - My all time favorite movie anti-hero, as played by Kurt Russell in Escape from New York and Escape from L.A. He’s already rescued one president, back when 1997 was still the future. Who better to rescue me from all these other role models, who will be obviously upset that I’ve dragged them to this island for my own amusement?

My wife - Hey, if I’m gonna be stuck on this island, who better? She’s my best friend and perfect role model. And we already know each other, so we can skip the courtship and go straight to starting our own society on that island...just as long as I can keep her away from Steve McQueen.

Real and Fictional Dogs

I wouldn’t know how to act without a dog.

As a toddler, our family dog, Mitzi, used to accompany me on my walk around the block with my dog and buggy. (I think dad finally put a lock on the gates so I couldn’t get out of the yard on my own.)

In later years, a succession of dogs came through my life. I can’t seem to be without one as the house always seems so empty and quiet without a dog around.

Not surprisingly, my fictional characters always have pets, too.

In Searching for a Starry Night, A Miniature Art Mystery, Sam and her bff Lita gladly take care of a friend’s new Dachshund Petey. What makes Petey special is not only his boisterous, fun (and nosy!) personality, but the fact that he was also adopted from a dog shelter.

For Sam and Lita, who don’t have pets of their own, Petey offers them the chance to enjoy the companionship of a dog, who also happens to help them solve a mystery, too. Who says Wishbone is the only dog who can have fun?

** Nov. 1-7 is National Animal Shelter Appreciation Week. Started by The Humane Society of the United States, the event honors the 4,000 animal shelters across the county serving an estimated 6-8 million homeless animals needing shelter each year.

**Buy: Searching for A Starry Night

** BUY: Searching for a Starry Night at QUAKE

The Story of Pavlov and Moose

I bring you the story of young Ensign Pavlov and her benefactor Moose. Pavlov always wanted to be an airship captain. She never had the money to go to the air force academy to learn how to fly. Frustrated as she watched her human counterparts flying the friendly skies, Pavlov gave up her quest to fly... That was until she met the devious pirate cat Moose. At first, being a pirate seemed immoral to innocent Pavlov but her undying love for rawhides, squeaky toys and cheese led her astray.

Being a pirate was a quick and easy way to get all she desired. She could sneak in the trash without retribution. The squirrels in the front yard were now fair game. Nothing was beyond her reach. As she learned the pirating way from mastermind Moose, she went on to conquer the no couch rule, the no begging rule and yes... even the no barking at strangers rule.

Leaving a trail of destroyed chew toys in her wake, the once innocent Pavlov had nothing else to conquer... Or did she? Her cat pirate mentor, Captain Moose the Grumpy stood in her way. She took to attacking him without warning. There was nothing Moose could do. She was in fact bigger than he was. She drove him from scratching the furniture and clawing his masters. The once powerful pirate cat was reduced to hiding atop appliances and dressers. While Pavlov clearly won the battle Moose plots to this day of how to regain his lost power. Today they live in an uneasy peace, always testing the other's boundaries. Who knows who will win, Captian Moose the Grumpy or Ensign Pavlov.

My steampunk novel, Thomas Riley, is now available through Echelon Press. Go here to learn more about the book:
www.sirthomasriley.com
Buy signed copies here:
http://thomasriley.bigcartel.com
or through Echelon:
www.echelonpress.com

Animals...

Hmmm.... Animals....

What to say?

I mean, I used to have a fish for a few years when I was in elementary school. I was, apparently, a very creative child when it came to naming him, too. His name was Mr. Fish.

How original. I know.

But that fish was resilient. It must've lived for five or six years. (And I think it was even a goldfish!) But it started as my brother's fish, then it was my fish, then it moved back to being my brother's fish.

So that fish got bounced around, but even when he was with my brother, I still liked to visit him.

Even though we fought over the name of the fish.

Yes, we both called the fish different names. (Good thing he didn't hear us. He might've experienced from identity confusion)

So I guess that's my story about an animal. Yes, it's short, but there's only so much to say about a fish.

Well, I guess it's a good thing I never had a cat then....

The Cat Whisperer

“Feed me,” my cat whispered.

“No,” I retorted.

“Hungry,” he whined.

“It’s not time yet.”

He rolled onto his back and showed me his belly, perhaps to demonstrate how empty it was. It wasn’t the best strategy because he’s … well … fat.

But he’s a cat. Cats aren’t much about strategy. They stalk and kill. Not much strategy there.

“Go find a mouse,” I said ungraciously.

He stalked off … or more like waddled … most likely to go nibble on one of my plants so he could barf it up in revenge.

I wish this is how it went.

What really happens is this.

He can’t sleep in the bed, because if he did, he would wake me at four in the morning since he’s absolutely convinced he’s starving.

So the door is shut. Not just shut. It’s locked because of fears he will spontaneously sprout an opposable thumb to defeat the doorknob. I’m safe on one side. He’s prowling the countertops and dining room table looking for crumbs on the other.

And when my alarm clock goes off, it’s a call to action for each of us.

Carefully, I open the door. The cat falls into the room with a fuzzy thump because he’s been trying to push it open for the last hour. There are cat prints and fang gouges all over the door.

I walk through the darkness towards his bowl, with him zigging and zagging between my feet doing his best to trip me, because obviously I will feed him faster if I fall on my face.

Like I said, cats aren’t big on strategy.

But what he doesn’t appreciate is I’m old. Something else is making demands on me, too.

“I gotta go,” my bladder whispered.

“I can’t. I have to feed the cat,” I retorted.

“Now!” it insisted.

“No. Can’t you see, the cat is starving to death.”

To emphasize the point, the cat headbutted my leg, nearly sending me into the wall.

“I don’t care,” my bladder sneered. “We go to the bathroom, or you’ll regret it.”

I tried to imagine trying to measure out cat food while trying to hold off my bladder while the cat’s pushing against my legs. Kibbles and Bits would go flying.

For the first time, I wondered if perhaps my bladder and cat were in some kind of dark conspiracy.

So I veered towards the bathroom. Seeing me not heading to his bowl sent the cat into a maddened frenzy and he tried heading me off like a collie shepherding baby sheep. But I dodged and ducked him in a crazy cat dance and raced towards the bathroom, my bladder chuckling in evil triumph.

Before I could get inside and shut the door, the cat slipped inside so he could torment me while I was trying to ..well, you know.

So I closed the door.

Him on the inside. Me and my bladder on the outside.

“You’ll be sorry,” my bladder hissed, as I hurried to the cat bowl.

I crossed my legs as I dumped food in the bowl. I could hear the cat throwing himself against the door. I ran for the bathroom and whipped the door open. A fuzzy torpedo shot off towards the kitchen.

Watching his fuzzy butt, I whispered, “enjoy.”

Then, well, you know … time to empty the bladder.

Norm

(new book! Fang Face. Vampire humor at its most juvenile. www.fangface.homestead.com)

Like a lot of families, mine has a family pet—a yellow lab named Gus. We got him as a puppy eight years ago from a breeder that was one of my dad’s old friends. My dad had visions of a dog that could accompany him in game season and for long treks through the woods—the kind of dog that knew “fetch” as training for retrieving fowl and would sit, stay, and GO when told.

Instead, he got Gus.

Gus is a hundred pounds of puppy. He’ll jump on top of you only to plant fifty slobbery kisses on your face. He has an unlimited amount of joy and tail-wags and he thinks he’s two things he is not: a person and a lap dog. He’s too excited to sit still during “fetch”. In short, Gus is not the ideal game companion. Yet, somehow, Gus and my dad share a strong father-dog bond.

When my dad is in a good mood, so is Gus. They’ll wrestle and play outside. My dad will act goofy (something he’s good at), and my dog will be the perfect partner-in-comedy. When my dad is in a more serious mood, Gus will often be more subdued, planting himself in whatever room my dad is in but not nagging for playtime.

They have something special. My dad thought he wanted a hunting dog, but in reality Gus is his perfect counterpart. In return, Gus idolizes my dad. Their relationship couldn’t be stronger if they really could talk to one another. But then again, how do I know that they don’t?

Kieryn

Author of RAIN, coming in 2010!

www.kierynnicolas.com

www.kierynnicolas.blogspot.com

The minds of cats

As I sit here typing this, my cat is hiding under a towel creeping out from the basket of clean laundry I need to take upstairs & put away. He is peering out from under it to watch my husband's cat, Jackson, who is sitting on top of my exercise bike.

I'm guessing that in about five seconds, there will be a wild scurry as one of them launches an attack on the other.

I never thought I'd be a cat person (my family always had dogs), but I got "adopted," and one thing I found out right off the bat is how expressive cats can be. Nine times out of ten, you can tell what they're thinking just by the look on their face.

It's the other one-tenth of the time, when they're curled up on the couch watching you like a Sphinx, that I wish I had a little more ability in the mind-reading department.

Banned Books??

A few years ago, a group of parents protested the book, The Goats. I watched them march and carry protest signs on the evening news. I recalled that I had a copy of that book in my 7th grade classroom. Curious, I read the book during the next few days. It was about some kids who got bullied at summer camp. I guess those parents thought it might give ideas to kids interested in bullying. Actually, no one had been interested in the book on my shelf until the fuss was made about it. Then it became a very popular book among my students. The book was banned in a nearby city.
Another book that comes to mind is Go Ask Alice, which is the actual diary of a young girl who became addicted to drugs, which took her life. The mother found the diary and had it published hoping it would deter other young people from following her daughter's footsteps. In the diary, the girl gave explicit examples of her reactions to drugs and dependence on them, how they ruined her life, and how her addiction destroyed her family. This book was one of many books sent to our school by the Dept. of Education, as books young adults should read. Many girls told me how the book opened their eyes to the dangers of drug use. I heard, "I'll never use drugs after what happened to Alice," more than once.
One day I received a complaint from a mother whose daughter had taken the book home to read. I told the mother it wasn't required reading; the girl had chosen it for a book report. She was free to choose another book. However, the mother didn't just not want HER daughter to not read it, she didn't want anyone to read it. She went to the principal and threatened to take it before the school board unless the book was taken off the shelf. The principal removed the book from my classroom library. That is book banning. It made me sick.
by Marlis Day, author of The Secret of Bailey's Chase
Visit me at http://wwwmarlisday.blogspot.com