he was shoved forcefully into the
table.
The huge cat went, “Yeowrrr!” as it
stumbled, regaining its footing.
Picking itself off the table, the small
creature apologized, “Hush Charlie, I know. I’m sorry, Michael.
Move back from the table if you want. Sometimes I forget myself.”
Michael scooted back a foot, as the creature said, “And this
four-footed flophouse for fleas is no help at all!” The flea bitten
cat-rider scratched itself, as the huge, purring, black cat leaned
over and licked one of its rider’s tiny, pointed ears. The deep
purring echoed around the small kitchen.
Mike took a closer look at the
cat-rider. It was wearing light green pants, with tiny black boots.
The shirt was green, but a darker shade than the pants. It had tiny
gold rings on each finger, and a tiny gold pendant on a gold
necklace around its neck. Except for the pointy ears, it looked
like a small human.
The creature said defensively, “Of
course I’m human! What did you think I was?”
Mike kept quiet, hoping any minute he’d
wake up and these two would be gone.
It was looking up at Mike as he studied
it. The creature exclaimed, “Enough! I’m human, but smaller than
you’re used to is all. I’m called Grizelda by my
friends.”
The cat snickered and made a sound
like, “Humph!”
Grizelda said to her cat, “Okay, so I
don’t have any friends! So what? Now, stop interrupting me.”
Turning to Mike, she explained, “We are real, Michael. We are not
figments of your imagination, or hallucinations from food
poisoning. Now, listen to me. I knew your great-great-great
grandfather back in Ireland, oh, uh, well; it was long ago. I told
him my story back then, but he never retold my story to his family
or friends as I told him to do.”
Mike thought, And neither will I.
Grizelda retorted, “Well, if you don’t,
then eventually I’ll have to go see one of your children. Someone
must know my story, Michael. Everything I have been through for
centuries must not be allowed to go unknown.”
Finding his voice, Mike asked in a
high-pitched squeak, “Why me?”
Grizelda explained, “Because you happen
to be of my own blood. Of course, my bloodline has been pretty
watered down by now. You see Michael; most folks can look right at
me but not see me. I’m just something they briefly glimpse from the
corner of their eyes. It’s the same way as when they look at old
Charlie here. He looks like a big cat to them, so they don’t really
see him either. But you now, you can see me. So, that proves my
bloodline is running in you.”
Looking at his beer can again he
blinked and shook his head. “How can I be from your bloodline?
You’re, uh, well, uh, small!”
Grizelda waved a small hand
dismissively, “Oh pshaw! I wasn’t always like this you know.” With
a faraway look in her green eyes, she said, “I was once a young,
beautiful woman. I had a fine husband, and a lover. In those days,
that’s the way life went. My lover was one of the old Gods from
Mount Olympus. I was a young woman before Egypt, or Rome, or any
history that your kind is taught today.” Perking up, pointing at
the empty beer can, she asked, “Say. Is that ale?” Mike shook his
head as she softly said, “My, my, my, I would love to have some of
that. Haven’t had any ale since, well, since, uh, a long time
now.”
Again the cat went, ”Humph!”
“ Oh hesh up, Charlie! What’s
the matter for you? You ain’t one second younger than I am! In fact
boyo, you’re older!”
Taking the hint, Mike carefully stood.
He opened another beer. Rummaging through the cabinet searching for
a container small enough for the tiny woman to drink out of, he
mumbled to himself, “I’m going to wake up any minute and feel
really stupid!”
Grizelda said impatiently, “Oh come on,
Michael. Just pour some ale in this here bowl for old Charlie. I
got me own cup.”
Mike peered back at the table. There
sat a speckled, blue, metal bowl and the small woman was
table.
The huge cat went, “Yeowrrr!” as it
stumbled, regaining its footing.
Picking itself off the table, the small
creature apologized, “Hush Charlie, I know. I’m sorry, Michael.
Move back from the table if you want. Sometimes I forget myself.”
Michael scooted back a foot, as the creature said, “And this
four-footed flophouse for fleas is no help at all!” The flea bitten
cat-rider scratched itself, as the huge, purring, black cat leaned
over and licked one of its rider’s tiny, pointed ears. The deep
purring echoed around the small kitchen.
Mike took a closer look at the
cat-rider. It was wearing light green pants, with tiny black boots.
The shirt was green, but a darker shade than the pants. It had tiny
gold rings on each finger, and a tiny gold pendant on a gold
necklace around its neck. Except for the pointy ears, it looked
like a small human.
The creature said defensively, “Of
course I’m human! What did you think I was?”
Mike kept quiet, hoping any minute he’d
wake up and these two would be gone.
It was looking up at Mike as he studied
it. The creature exclaimed, “Enough! I’m human, but smaller than
you’re used to is all. I’m called Grizelda by my
friends.”
The cat snickered and made a sound
like, “Humph!”
Grizelda said to her cat, “Okay, so I
don’t have any friends! So what? Now, stop interrupting me.”
Turning to Mike, she explained, “We are real, Michael. We are not
figments of your imagination, or hallucinations from food
poisoning. Now, listen to me. I knew your great-great-great
grandfather back in Ireland, oh, uh, well; it was long ago. I told
him my story back then, but he never retold my story to his family
or friends as I told him to do.”
Mike thought, And neither will I.
Grizelda retorted, “Well, if you don’t,
then eventually I’ll have to go see one of your children. Someone
must know my story, Michael. Everything I have been through for
centuries must not be allowed to go unknown.”
Finding his voice, Mike asked in a
high-pitched squeak, “Why me?”
Grizelda explained, “Because you happen
to be of my own blood. Of course, my bloodline has been pretty
watered down by now. You see Michael; most folks can look right at
me but not see me. I’m just something they briefly glimpse from the
corner of their eyes. It’s the same way as when they look at old
Charlie here. He looks like a big cat to them, so they don’t really
see him either. But you now, you can see me. So, that proves my
bloodline is running in you.”
Looking at his beer can again he
blinked and shook his head. “How can I be from your bloodline?
You’re, uh, well, uh, small!”
Grizelda waved a small hand
dismissively, “Oh pshaw! I wasn’t always like this you know.” With
a faraway look in her green eyes, she said, “I was once a young,
beautiful woman. I had a fine husband, and a lover. In those days,
that’s the way life went. My lover was one of the old Gods from
Mount Olympus. I was a young woman before Egypt, or Rome, or any
history that your kind is taught today.” Perking up, pointing at
the empty beer can, she asked, “Say. Is that ale?” Mike shook his
head as she softly said, “My, my, my, I would love to have some of
that. Haven’t had any ale since, well, since, uh, a long time
now.”
Again the cat went, ”Humph!”
“ Oh hesh up, Charlie! What’s
the matter for you? You ain’t one second younger than I am! In fact
boyo, you’re older!”
Taking the hint, Mike carefully stood.
He opened another beer. Rummaging through the cabinet searching for
a container small enough for the tiny woman to drink out of, he
mumbled to himself, “I’m going to wake up any minute and feel
really stupid!”
Grizelda said impatiently, “Oh come on,
Michael. Just pour some ale in this here bowl for old Charlie. I
got me own cup.”
Mike peered back at the table. There
sat a speckled, blue, metal bowl and the small woman was
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