The Bad Lady (Novel) by John Meany Page B

foot, hard, which made a thundering noise. Surprisingly the kittens did not scatter. They must have been extremely hungry. “A no-good worthless pedophile. People like her ought to be fried in the electric chair. They serve no purpose in society.”
    I did not even bother to ask her what she had meant by that. Often, I found, when the bad lady had absolute control of mother, that it was best to not pester her with too many questions.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Just then, a car drove past the house, quite slow, I might add.
    You should have seen the expression on the bad lady’s face, all fierce and intense. The way she had stared the passing vehicle down, reminded me of a paranoid soldier in war either thinking of going ballistic with a machine gun, a flamethrower, or perhaps by tossing a hand grenade at the car. Evidently, in her disillusioned mind, she imagined that passing automobile to be the Good Humor truck.
    “Mom, why are you still so mad?”
    “You don’t understand, Billy. Clearly, you don’t understand anything.” She bent down and carefully scooped one of the kittens into her arms, the orange cat with the tiger stripes. Milk dripped from the kitty‘s tongue.
    “Am I trouble?”
    “No. Nancy Sutcliffe is in trouble.”
    “Why, what’s gonna happen to her?”
    Without answering, she put the timid kitty back down on the porch. Then she changed the subject.
    “I’ll tell you what, Billy. I think we might have another can of tuna in the cupboard. These cats could use a solid meal. I don‘t think a bowl of milk will suffice.”
    “They could use a solid meal,” I agreed. “They must be starving. Look at how thin they are.”
    “I see that. And I understand you feel sorry for them.”
    “I do.”
    “Well,” she adds, watching the two kittens go back to drinking the cold milk. “I don’t know what these cats have been living on. Hold on.” She went into the house and returned roughly a minute later with the tuna fish on a paper plate. Pleased, the hungry kittens began to devour the seafood feast. “Now Billy, you remember what I said about staying in the yard.”
    “I know. I heard you.”
    “I have to go take shower. Wash this sweat off my body. I feel yucky! If the phone rings again, don’t answer it. Let the answering machine pick up.”
    “All right.”
    “And whatever you do, please do not bring these cats in the house. They’re not potty trained.”
    “I won’t.”
    Not long after she had slipped back into the cottage, I heard her enter the bathroom. Then I heard the door gently close and the shower come on. The running water, maybe because the pipes in the house were old and rusty, could be heard from just about every room, including the porch.
    Stay in the yard. In fact, I don’t even want you to leave the porch!
    How annoying. Why did she have to tell me that?
    Even if Nancy did happen to drive by, it wasn’t as if, after seeing how pissed off my mom and the bad lady were, I would actually get in the ice cream truck and go for a ride, like I normally did, and risk being molested again.
    The fact is if Nancy Sutcliffe had to work after all and came down the street, I had already made up my mind that I wouldn’t acknowledge her. I would pull a Mrs. Bailey; give her the snub treatment. Pretend I didn’t know her.
     
     
    PART SIX
    SMACK
    CHAPTER 15
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Now I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden out of nowhere, I heard a loud noise come from the bathroom.
    Whaaa whack!
    I deduced that either my mother had slammed the toilet seat down or it had accidentally dropped.
    The unexpected clunk spooked the kittens. Unlike when my mom (or should I say the bad lady) had stomped her foot on the porch, this time the stray kittens, instead of sticking around, elected to scram. They scuttled eagerly down the cement steps and vanished behind one of our azalea bushes.
    Then, in the bathroom, it got eerily quiet. So quiet you could almost hear a ghost whisper.
    Curious,