I found this weird little poem in my 2007 writing archives.  It popped into my head unbidden during a lakeside walk, and it had a vaguely Tom Waits feet to it, so imagine it sung by a gravely voice accompanied by lots of rhythmic banging and clanging.  If you don’t know who Jack of the Green is, turn to the ever-so-handy Wikipedia article on Jack of the Green.

(This fabulous photo is by Hisashi)

The Cat Journeys to the Underworld

Three fat cats in the kitchen sink
One bends over to take a drink
the others pushed him down into the drain
he fell forever but felt no pain.
He rolled to the feet of the Underlord
Whose head was bound with a silver cord
“It’s a shame, dear cat, but there’s nothing to do
You’re stuck down here till we’re through with you.

“The demons of the dark and the Hounds of Hell
Will pull off your face and take your tail.
They’ll take your black fur and your soft white paws,
your sharp front fangs and your powerful jaws,
They’ll grind your bones down to tiny rocks,
then toss all your parts into a box.
They’ll breathe inside and shake it well
Then sew you back together at the gates of Hell

Then you’ll stand up tall on your two hind legs
with velvet skin and eyes like the day
Your fangs and your fur will have crumbled to dust
and you won’t want to walk, but walk you must.
With your whiskers gone and your new hands strong,
you’ll stroll back up to where you were wronged;
head on over to the kitchen sink –
I suggest you don’t give them time to think.”

So in came the demons and the Hounds of Hell
They cut him up and did it well
He was shaken in the box and emerged whole
He had a new shape but the same cat soul.
He traveled back up through the Underworld
and walked right into to the sacred grove.
He emerged from the woods as a prophet of beasts
Drew all the honey from the hives of bees.

The mice and the shrews peeked beneath the plants
and from the earth blazed a stream of ants.
The sparrows and the falcons swooped down to see
And the bobcats crept up to his knee.
He charmed all the foxes out of their dens
then they all went in to the city of men.
Vines grew down from his eyes to his knees
but only the beasts saw this Jack of the Green.

Into the kitchen, right to the sink,
to the two fat cats vying for a drink.
Surrounded by the foxes and the hum of bees
he towered over his foes and said his piece.
They stared right back with unblinking eyes,
licked their paws, groomed their lies.
He thought about sending them down the drain
but figured he had very little to gain

He went back into the forest and the sacred grove
and dug out a home with the deer and the toads.
With mud on his face and green in his teeth,
He knew he had little cause to leave.
The cicadas and the frogs made music so clear,
the kind he’d never had the chance to hear.
He danced upright on his two hind legs
And that is how he lived out his days.

Do treacherous cats prosper?  I think not.
The very next day brought a threatening dog.
He chased the cats right out of the house,
the lazy things couldn’t even catch a mouse.
They grew so thin that the light shone through
they had plenty of time to think of what they’d do
if they had the chance to change their deeds–
woe to the foes of Jack of the Green.

Tags: Bizarre Animal Poems, Mythological Mishaps by splarks
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Way back when, I asked readers for animal story suggestions.  In response to reader Lynn’s request, I present the following tale of struggle, determination, and death metal.
***

PENELOPE THE PLATYPUS AND HER DEATH ROCK BAND

There had never been a better time to be a platypus in a death metal band.

Of course, no platypus had ever been in a death metal band, so now was as good a time as any for Penelope’s venture into the screaming, howling and guitar-smashing.  Being a platypus created unwelcome challenges to guitar-playing. She had developed a creative solution that involved stomping and sliding her feet, along with banging her head on the strings and fiercely thumping her tail on the ground. Tail strength was key to death metal, she found. The old acoustic guitar salvaged from the alley behind Rusty’s Junk-O-Matic was not exactly what she had in mind. Maddeningly cheerful, it tinkled along to her angst-filled groans.  Yet she was determined to overcome all obstacles to her music–the dark depths of her desolate soul needed to be expressed.

The forest animals gathered in the clearing after her concert announcement. As she was setting up, she heard two old chipmunks chattering.

“Ooh, a concert, Edna! Why, I haven’t heard a concert since little June Aronson learned to play walnut shells!”

“Indeed, Betty, this is so exciting!”

Yes, thought Penelope grimly.  You, too, will feel the excitement of utter destruction raining down upon your soul. She checked her makeup in the mirror.  Three bottles of white makeup coated her fur in imitation of deathly pallor–expensive, but worth it.  Unable to find a studded leather bustier to complete her outfit, she made do with electrical tape and pop can tabs.

The night called.  It was time.  Penelope cleared her throat, stepped onto her guitar, and began.

“DARK MINIONS FLY THROUGH THE NIGHT!
DEEP SORROWS FALL FROM GREAT HEIGHTS!
SONS OF ODIN SCREAM IN BETRAYAL!
EXIST ONLY TO HEAR YOU WAIL!

The crowd gaped as she thrashed on the fretboard. The old chipmunks squinted at each other.

“Now what is she saying, Betty? Confound these bad ears of mine.”

The other chipmunk cocked her head.  “Well now, I’m not entirely certain. My, but she has a scratchy voice for a girl! Poor thing must have a cold. Such a pity, and on her big night, too!”

Ignoring the puzzled murmurs and quizzical stares, Penelope plunged on. She felt the Pain of the Damned deeply in her heart, and the only release was through howling her dark lyrics.

SNOW FALLS, COVERS THE DAMNED!
FEEL PAIN, ALL THAT I AM!
YOUR CITY, FALLS IN MY HATE!
YOUR DREAMS, THINGS THAT I ATE!

Betty rummaged through her acorn purse. “I have some candied ginger in here to soothe her throat,” she said loudly, her wavering voice clear over the tinkling of the guitar. ”Oh, darn!  I just can’t see in this dim light.”

Edna leaned over the acorn.  “Betty, dear, let me look with you. Here it is.”

The old chipmunk waved it away. “That’s a corn cake, Edna.”

Euphoric with the spinning of her banging head, Penelope continued to howl but curiously could not recall her lyrics. With each bang, it was more difficult to remember the stunningly deep phrase she had penned last week.  She stalled for a few moments by growling some particularly demonic cow moos, but the crowd seemed unimpressed. The muskrat scratched its posterior, and the blue jays’ chirps were clearly unappreciative.

No statues were ever built for critics, Grandpa had said when she was young.  Closing her eyes, she ad-libbed.

OLD RODENTS, I HAVE NO COLD!
MY LYRICS ARE STRANGE TO THE OLD!
SATAN COMES AT NIGHT TO YOUR HOME
IN YOUR OWN KITCHEN HE ROAMS!

Betty gasped and put her hand to her heart.  “Did she say Satan, Edna?”

Edna patted the old chipmunk on the shoulder.  “No dear, she said ’satin.’ You know kids these days.  Their poor spelling skills cause them to mix up words.”

“Oh, of course.”  Edna nodded sagely  “But satin in the kitchen? I’d rather have it in the bedroom. It makes lovely sheets. I think I’d just spill jam on kitchen satin.”

Penelope banged her tail in a glorious speedy roll.  She was misunderstood!  Her greatness was taken for granted!  With a roar, she spewed:

IF YOU DO NOT SHUT UP
YOUR ASSSES I SHALL WHUP!
DARKNESS RAINS DOOM ON YOU ALL!
YOUR BONES ENTOMBED IN A WALL!

“She’s going to do what to my ass? Humph! Well I sold that old donkey to Myrtle Jones four years ago.”  The old chipmunk’s nose was in the air.  ”I don’t know how that uppity young monotreme thinks she’s going to get her paws on it.”

“I know, Betty, I know. These kids have no respect for nature any more.”

“It’s a shame, really,”  said Betty, her tail twitching and whiskers shaking in indignation.  “We really should do more for our youth. They need advice from their elders.”

“YOUR DOOM–

Edna tottered to her feet and shouted over Penelope. “You up there! I suppose your mother never took you to the park or read you bedtime stories!”

I will not let them stop my art, thought Penelope.  “YOUR DOOM–”

Betty pointed her walking twig at Penelope.  “Probably ate nothing but po-taty chips and popsicles, did you? Your poor vocal cords are stunted through malnutrition, tsk.”

Willnotletthemstopmyart! “YOUR DOOM–”

“And you’re so pudgy, too,” complained Betty.  The audience was riveted.  “You need a bowl of stinging nettles – it will help your voice and you’ll lose all that fat.”

“AAAAAAAAAAGGGH!” Penelope howled. It technically wasn’t part of the song, but she could no longer contain herself.  With great effort, she heaved her guitar into the crowd. Unfortunately, guitar-smashing wasn’t nearly as spectacular as it looked on MTV. There were no sparks, explosions or screeching feedback noises, only the half-hearted thump of wood and jarred nylon strings.

There was silence in the clearing and Penelope’s chest heaved as she glared balefully at the audience.  Now they would understand her dark torment!

Edna cleared her throat loudly.  “You dropped your guitar, honey.”

“Everybody makes a mistake now and then,” added Betty.  ”There, there, no one will even remember in five years.”

***

After the show, Penelope lounged backstage inside a rotten tree stump. With a guitar splinter, she picked her teeth clean of chipmunk. They had been tough, but surprisingly tasty. She was glad she’d branched out from her normal diet of worms and shellfish.  Nutrition was important.  Her vocal cords, she decided, needed more protein to sustain the heavy, deep growls of agony.

A small group of groundhog youth nervously approached her.

“You were like totally awesome!”  the biggest one gushed. ”The blood and cracking bones were so, like, real!”

“Yeah!”  squeaked another.  ”That stuff about the Slaves of the Damned was great. I totally got it, you know?”

“Can … canwebeinyourband?” the youngest groundhog begged breathlessly.

Penelope smiled and burped.

“It depends. Can you get me an amplifier and a Les Paul electric guitar?”

The groundhogs scurried off in pursuit of equipment, and Penelope smiled.  She had turned adversity to her advantage and come out ahead with a full belly and a promising career.

Tags: Bizarre Animal Stories by splarks
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Oh, Samurai Cat, your adventures thrilled my juvenile mind!*  You battled Nazi dinosaurs with your awesome sword and spiky helmet. You rescued your machine-gun-toting nephew kitten from his ill-advised Mafia ties.  You rode pterodactyl-like creatures through space and time, seeking revenge against your master’s assassins.  You ordered saucers of milk at bars, and decapitated those who ridiculed your choice of beverage!

Now that I think of it, weren’t those Nazi Dinosaurs from outer space?   Oh my god, can this get any better?

The Adventures of Samurai Cat, More Adventures of Samurai Cat, Samurai Cat in the Real World, The Sword of Samurai Cat, and Samurai Cat Goes to the Movies were written by Mark E. Rogers.  I suspect his off-kilter assassin-cat-humor planted seeds in my twelve-year-old mind for future Splarks stories.  If you enjoy Splarks, track down a copy of any Samurai Cat book or comic.  Perhaps Samurai Cat will make a comeback some day.  That would MAKE MY EFFIN’ DAY, Mark Rogers.

Visit a great Samurai Cat fansite here.  And there’s a Samurai Cat Facebook page.

*I say that as though my mind has progressed beyond its juvenile ways. This blog’s existence pretty much refutes that idea.

Tags: Amusing Links by splarks
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I admit to liking some old Jefferson Airplane songs, but I fail to find kind words for its later incarnation, Jefferson Starship. Recently I was tortured with the song “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” and an alternate interpretation came to mind.

Don’t you wonder what they’re really singing about? Let me tell you, friends, in another installation of Self-Help Thursday.
***

Hello there, Grace and Mickey.  Welcome to my Rock Star Therapy practice.  So you’d like to talk about your relationship.  I’m surprised, since I didn’t think you two were in a romantic relationship.  I guess things are complicated, huh?  I’m happy to help you using my vast array of psychotherapy credentials.  Mickey, why don’t you start? Tell me about your feelings for Grace.

Looking in your eyes I see a paradise
This world that I’ve found
Is too good to be true
Standing here beside you
Want so much to give you
This love in my heart that I’m feeling for you

Mickey, this is a classic case of self-fulfilling prophecy.  By assuming that the relationship is too good to be true, you set yourself up for failure.  People with low self-esteem often feel this way, but you don’t have to join them.  Recognize your own self-worth and infuse your relationship with it.  Grace, care to comment?

Let ‘em say were crazy
I don’t care about that

Well, Grace, you’ve made it clear that you don’t care about other people’s interpretation of your mental state.  I’ve seen your art exhibits and you’re in the other polarity:  very high self-esteem.  Mickey, you could learn a little from Grace’s approach.  But I’m sorry, Grace dear, I didn’t meant to interrupt.  What were you saying?

Put your hand in my hand baby
Don’t ever look back

That’s right!  Don’t look back at those people who very obviously think you’re crazy.  Are they trained mental health professionals?  No, they are not!  So what will you say to those nay-sayers and name-callers?

Let the world around us just fall apart
Baby we can make it if we’re heart to heart

Grace, this is where a high self-esteem person like you runs into trouble. This normally positive trait becomes overconfidence.  If the world fell apart, you would certainly not Make It.  Skyscrapers could fall on your head or a giant sidewalk hole could open, or the monkey cage in the zoo could collapse and let loose a pack of raging gorillas.  You won’t survive raging gorillas, Grace.  No matter how strong our confidence is, we humans have our limits.  Try again.

And we can build this dream together
Standing strong forever
Nothing’s gonna stop us now.

Please, let’s look at reality.  You won’t live forever, and things can definitely stop you.  In fact, taking the time to identify your obstacles is the first step to prevent them from ruining your lives.  I sense that this this unrealistic view of the future is holding back your relationship.  Let’s rephrase and try for a more sensible approach.

And if this world runs out of lovers
We’ll still have each other

Grace and Mickey, I’m a little suspicious of your motives.  Previously you referred to the world falling apart, and now you say the world also risks running out of lovers.  Given that the world is steeped in delusional romantics, a shortage  is impossible unless you know something the rest of us don’t know.  You … you don’t, do you?

Nothing’s gonna stop us
nothing’s gonna stop us now.

Ok, nothing is gonna stop you from WHAT?

I’m so glad I found you
I’m not gonna lose you
Whatever it takes I will stay here with you.

You’re making me nervous now.  Come on, I thought you wanted relationship counseling but you keep hinting at some dangerous event on the horizon.  So you have insider’s knowledge on what it will take to stay alive?  What is it?

Take it to the good times
See it through the bad times
Whatever it takes is what I’m gonna do.

The good times end and the bad times are coming?  I think you aren’t telling me something.  What are you two planning?  Unleashing the plague?  Poisoning the water supply?  Calling up the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse so you can laugh at us poor mortals screaming in the face of divine wrath?

Let ‘em say were crazy
what do they know?

Who are “They,” Grace?  When people in my practice talk about “They,” it’s never a good sign!

Put your arms around me baby
Don’t ever let go
Let the world around us just fall apart

Again with the world falling apart!

Baby we can make it if we’re heart to heart

What is this, some kind of twisted version of the Vulcan mind meld but using hearts instead?  I knew it!  You’re aliens, aren’t you, and this whole spiel is a smug foreshadowing of your impending invasion!  The name change from Jefferson Airplane to Jefferson Starship all makes sense now.  And to think I was lecturing you about the limitations of human beings.  You don’t have to worry about that, do you?

Ooh, all that I need is you
All that I ever need
And all that I want to do
Is hold you forever, ever and ever
Hey!

Oh my god.  You’re looking at me.  You want to hold ME forever and ever in your twisted world of alien invasions and vampiric everlasting life.  Dear God, help me.  They’re coming closer, closer …

(guitar solo;  sound of shrieking and slurping)

***

The bad part about writing this is that I have that song stuck in my head now, and I particularly dislike it.  I do think singer Grace Slick is a cool chick;  she’s an artist now.

Tags: Alien Oddities, Self-Improvement by splarks
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