The Corpus Cat

By Matthew Sawyer

Barry and Dana talk about having a baby; not another baby, because the couple does not speak about their stillborn son. But this new discussion upsets their pet cat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Sawyer
• Release date: Sep 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311445353

Matthew Sawyer

I hate talking about myself. Like everyone, I suppose, I am a bit narcissistic, but not egotistical. My own failure for success is that I just do not think much about myself. That is not to say I spend too much time thinking about others. In truth, I should think more of everyone; and there is a dull guilt attached to that confession. There is something of who I am, I am old enough for regrets.At my age, I am prone to think about immortality And being an atheist, there seems no alternative but science. Even so, I know that science is beyond my lifetime. I have no faith nor hope, nor do I believe in ghosts, elves, unicorns...In that hopeless disbelief, I write so there remains a record of accomplishments in my life. Unrecognized and even scorned, I continue to tell stories so I will be remembered after I am dead. My struggle with grammar and punctuation are evidence of my effort to make my writing decipherable. Because, what success means to me are hieroglyphics upon a Pharaoh's tomb.

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The Corpus Cat

Matthew Sawyer

Published by Matthew Sawyer at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Matthew Sawyer

The Corpus Cat is a fictional story. All characters, names and locations are the creations of Matthew Sawyer. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing form from the copyright owner.

Please contact the author for permission to make copies of any part of this work.

Discover other ebook titles by Matthew Sawyer (aka Mr. Binger) at Smashwords.com

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Chapter One

An amorous Barry is more curious when he asks his wife, Do you want to try again? And he issues a lesser warning. There is the cat.

Dana grants their pet dignity and she names him. Dodgie? No, he can stay.

We'll move the litter box out of the upstairs bath and we just won't touch him while I'm pregnant. He's completely okay after the baby is born.

This evening, the couple, together, fold Barry's clothes into an antique dresser. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Corpus know much about antique furniture. They know this keepsake is almost one hundred years old and it comes down her side of the family. It belonged to Dana's great-great grandmother. And Dana deludes herself to this day when she claims, It's mahogany.

Knowing no better, Barry constantly tells her, No, it's oak.

In her defense, she once or twice replied, The dresser was built here and it has never left Lovespark, Illinois.

What has that got to do with it? Barry foolishly inquires.

Back then, there were no oak trees near this city.

Barry protested once or twice and said, There are plenty.

There are now. My grandfather planted the seeds.

What she said is true, long-deceased Tommy Adkin was a regular, locally historically-documented Johnny Appleseed. Admitting this fact to himself, Barry said There are no mahogany trees here.

Well, his wife replied with a huff the one time he noted that observation. They cut them all down and made dressers out of them.

An odor from the attached full bath drifts into the upstairs master bedroom of the ordinary, twentieth century Corpus house. Accustomed to being cat-owners and unmindful of strong scents, the noxious fume does not register with either Corpus until its potency has peaked and it presses itself well out of the lavatory.

Eww, Dana emotes the moment her husband thinks an equivalent, profane thought. She tells him, Stop feeding Dodgie that tofu tuna.

He likes it, he answers. Then Barry mumbles. Better than me.

Knowing his role, he strolls into the bathroom. Barry prepares himself to scoop shining feline turds from the disposable litter and flushing the waste and all the clinging grains of silica dust down the toilet. As he goes, he raises his voice until it echoes out of the bath further than the odor.

If it imitates chicken, it should taste like chicken.

Dana corrects him while she lingers in the other room. Her voice is faint. Some people think it tastes like tuna.

I'm not one, Barry says in reverberations.

Whether and what he had more to say is lost when a mess on the floor distracts the man. The plastic waste basket is overturned and predominately wads and shreds of toilet paper cover the checkered tiles. Much of the trash is horrid and bloody. And Barry is not surprised or concerned – he is after all, a happily married man.

He reports to his wife, Dodgie tore through the waste basket again.

He does that when it gets too full of fluffy paper. He likes digging.

Apologetic and feeling guilty for no reason, Dana asks her husband, How bad is it?

It's that time of month, he states as a fact.

An unusually heavy month. January is always a heavy month, she answers and steps toward the bath door.

Barry stops her with a command. You don't want to see this.

Uninformed, she giggles,What?

Barry asks his wife while she is yet outside the door, Did you write this?

What?

Despite her husband standing in the way, Dana peeks into the bathroom and sees the bloody message on the wallpaper. The single word reads, Charlie. The letters are knee-high scabs on the blank wall and near the litter box next the shower.

Dana jumps backward and cries, No, no.

The woman's agony wrings out of her wails and she says the same again. No, no.

I just found it here, Barry claims. It's written in your blood.

She yells back an accusation. He's your son, your dead son!

Charlie is dead, he's been dead for years. He died at birth and the cold fact is all the depth of feeling Mister Barry Corpus ever feels about the tragedy. His wife is struck dead every instance she is reminded they could have had a little boy. And he is sympathetic and a good husband. Barry holds her when she mourns.

Just this evening, the young couple finally broached the topic and agreed they would have a child and not another child. Not a single memory of Charlie had been provoked. Bringing his wife back into that happy forgetfulness, he rocks her on the bed and says with a low tone, "Shh, I don't know what's going on.