Etienne sat on a couch in his library petting the large orange cat that had curled up in his lap. Elizabeth had named it Marmalade and he couldn’t help frowning and nodding his head in agreement that it was a good name for an orange cat. It was friendly enough which surprised him. He had expected animals to be far more leery of the undead, but perhaps they sensed the nature of the undead with the same discernment that they did the living, distinguishing good people from bad. The Frenchman shook his head and scratched the cat behind its ears and under it’s chin. The cat stretched and purred loudly. Etienne’s lips twisted into a smirk that stretched into a full smile. “You remind me of your new owner when I scratch her. I hope that you come to love her as much as I do.”
He closed his eyes and tried to relax in the soothing environment of his newly renovated library. All his books and possessions had arrived from France. His brother Gaston had been kind enough to ship it all back and his amazing decorator had helped him put it all into the newly renovated upstairs. He’d even been able to buy some new furniture with his first paycheck from the university since his return. They had been kind enough to give him back pay for the time he was presumed dead. It was just enough to cover the new furnishings and renovations. It was still modest, but he hoped that Elizabeth would find it comfortable.
So much had happened in such a short time. After their date at the movies their romance had grown into a bond they could not deny and they soon made oaths to each other as mates. They were even discussing a formal public ceremony to make their mating a formal marriage. An idea suggested by his own sibling Nick Bowstrong of all people. Etienne shook his head at the irony of that and began to rub the cat’s belly. Now Nick and Isabella were formally courting. Flabbergasting. “Thhppt! Risible!” he interjected startling the cat who cast him a sharp look and demanded he continue petting without further interruption. “Oui! Oui, demanding cat!” he laughed and went back to soothing the cat.
Then there was his new career in politics in addition to his university lectures. Etienne the professor was now Etienne the General Representative, one of three for the fledgling Vampire Government. The job was stressful and far more difficult than faculty politics had been. Enemies in these political games may well try to kill him not just have him dismissed from his position. Just this evening he been approached to divulge secrets of his family’s plans. “Thhppt!! Risible!” he interjected again again startling the cat who rewarded him with a scratch this time as she bolted from his lap and stopped before the fireplace staring accusingly at him. “Je suis désolée, pussycat!” he apologized to the cat, but made no move to retrieve her.
“I cannot believe someone would come to me of all people thinking that I would betray my family! Do I look like a man so bereft of character?” he addressed the cat seriously. “Do I?” Etienne rose to his feet and began to pace the library circling the leather reading couches and coffee table by the main bookcases then began making a figure eight circuit around the couch before the fireplace. The cat flopped onto its side pointing a rear leg toward the ceiling and began to lick itself completely ignoring the tall vampire’s pacing. “Thhppt! Cat stupide! What would you know about telling a good person from bad, oui?” he scooped that cat up and started stroking her again. The orange cat responded by snuggling into him and purring loudly. “Bah! This proves nothing.” He said to the purring cat and played with her paws.
“Now this monsieur Ripper…” Etienne returned to his pacing carrying the cat with him. “I don’t think you would let him pet you, mademoiselle Marmalade. This man had the audacity to attack your lovely owner while she was fighting Cobb the Betrayer.” An angry scowl twisted the man’s face his eyes smoldering with vengeance. “She had apologized to him publicly for that silliness at the abandoned church.” His brow arched and a pensive frown pulled at his mouth. “Why would he continue to hold a grudge for such a thing? Risible!” his pacing increased its intensity until he came to the fireplace again. He stopped in his tracks his eyes locking on his broadsword leaning against the stonework hearth. It seemed such an incongruous item placed there. A sword in a scholar’s library like an heirloom from some foreign war or conversation piece was perhaps as cliché as a Frenchman with a knife. “Yet you have already felt my blade for your crimes, oui monsieur? You will feel it every night I find you for trying to cut ma paquerette!”
Etienne dropped the cat to the floor and seized the broadsword pulling it halfway from the scabbard and admiring the gleaming blade. He slammed it back in the scabbard and tucked the sword under his long coat heading for the spiral staircase and the door. It was time to hunt.
Conversations with the cat
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Etienne
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Conversations with the cat
Last edited by Etienne on 15 Jul 2011, 03:33, edited 1 time in total.
Etienne Thibodeaux PhD - Père de Raves
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Etienne
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Re: Conversations with the cat
They were in the library on the leather couch before the fireplace. Elizabeth lounged in Etienne’s lap and Marmalade the cat in hers. Marmalade purred loudly as Elizabeth stroked her fur. Rain could be heard beating against the windows even through the heavy blackout curtains the sound a soothing contrast to the rumble of intermittent thunder. Etienne gazed contentedly into the fireplace watching the endlessly fascinating dance of flames as the logs crackled. He drank in this wondrous contentment like a man dying of thirst after a trek across the desert.
A sparkle on Elizabeth’s hand caught his eye and he smiled at the sapphire and diamond ring he’d given her the night before. They had begun planning a formal ceremony already, but there was something missing to his modern sensibilities. There was no engagement ring. There had been just enough left from his back pay to buy a modest ring. He had promised to purchase a better one once he had saved, but she would hear nothing of the sort.
Another crash and rumble of thunder shook the apartment. It must be an impressive storm to shake the whole tower. Etienne wondered briefly what the other residents thought of the storm then decided he didn’t care. All he cared about was right here in this room. His two girls. The fuzzy orange cat and his beautiful fiancé who rested comfortably in his lap her scent intoxicating him.
Technically she is my mate, he thought. Since we’ve already exchanged oaths. The “mate” concept was new to him, but seemed to equate to a kind of common law vampire marriage. It reminded him of iron-age traditions of marriage that continued through the Viking age and into pre-Christian times throughout Europe. He wondered how long Vampires had used this type of agreement between couples. Some didn’t use it at all and had not even heard of it despite their great age and yet Etienne felt he should question every word that came from the mouths of certain Elders.
The Shadows had worked terrible harm on some of them through the centuries of imprisonment affecting their minds. Still others had difficulty sorting fact from fiction or speaking sense it seemed to the professor. They did have knowledge that Etienne desperately desired. Knowledge of the past. First-hand experience in eras he had only read of. Elizabeth had relayed some small stories already that had held him riveted down to the smallest details. She had told him of everyday life in 16th Century England and the role she had been relegated to without choice or hope of freedom. The trajedies of that life had oddly saved her from it and brought her to Isabella, a meeting now centuries past.
Etienne wondered where his life’s journey would take him in five centuries. How could vampires stay hidden for that long without being discovered by humans and destroyed? Their survival was tenuous despite their recent population explosion. How could hundreds of vampires remain hidden in a city this size for very long? The logical answers to these questions were disturbing.
He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes to push those thoughts away then laced his fingers in Elizabeth’s. The fire still crackled and the thunder still rumbled. The cat still purred and their haven was cozy and safe for now.
A sparkle on Elizabeth’s hand caught his eye and he smiled at the sapphire and diamond ring he’d given her the night before. They had begun planning a formal ceremony already, but there was something missing to his modern sensibilities. There was no engagement ring. There had been just enough left from his back pay to buy a modest ring. He had promised to purchase a better one once he had saved, but she would hear nothing of the sort.
Another crash and rumble of thunder shook the apartment. It must be an impressive storm to shake the whole tower. Etienne wondered briefly what the other residents thought of the storm then decided he didn’t care. All he cared about was right here in this room. His two girls. The fuzzy orange cat and his beautiful fiancé who rested comfortably in his lap her scent intoxicating him.
Technically she is my mate, he thought. Since we’ve already exchanged oaths. The “mate” concept was new to him, but seemed to equate to a kind of common law vampire marriage. It reminded him of iron-age traditions of marriage that continued through the Viking age and into pre-Christian times throughout Europe. He wondered how long Vampires had used this type of agreement between couples. Some didn’t use it at all and had not even heard of it despite their great age and yet Etienne felt he should question every word that came from the mouths of certain Elders.
The Shadows had worked terrible harm on some of them through the centuries of imprisonment affecting their minds. Still others had difficulty sorting fact from fiction or speaking sense it seemed to the professor. They did have knowledge that Etienne desperately desired. Knowledge of the past. First-hand experience in eras he had only read of. Elizabeth had relayed some small stories already that had held him riveted down to the smallest details. She had told him of everyday life in 16th Century England and the role she had been relegated to without choice or hope of freedom. The trajedies of that life had oddly saved her from it and brought her to Isabella, a meeting now centuries past.
Etienne wondered where his life’s journey would take him in five centuries. How could vampires stay hidden for that long without being discovered by humans and destroyed? Their survival was tenuous despite their recent population explosion. How could hundreds of vampires remain hidden in a city this size for very long? The logical answers to these questions were disturbing.
He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes to push those thoughts away then laced his fingers in Elizabeth’s. The fire still crackled and the thunder still rumbled. The cat still purred and their haven was cozy and safe for now.
Etienne Thibodeaux PhD - Père de Raves
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Etienne
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Re: Conversations with the cat
Etienne stirred groggily from his sleep and sat up on the edge of the bed rubbing his eyes and nose. He stood and yawned stretching his long arms toward the ceiling. Elizabeth still slept nestled in the blankets and smiled peacefully in her sleep. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked upon her. It was just before sunset, he somehow knew, as he moved silently through the apartment. The Frenchman missed drinking his morning coffee on the balcony and watching the sunrise, but perhaps something different could be done. He could perhaps watch the sky fade from red to black from the upstairs balcony as Elizabeth slept in.
His long legs took the steps of the spiral staircase quickly as he climbed to the upper floor and entered the library heading for the guest bedroom balcony. With luck it would be empty and he would not disturb anyone this early. A meow came from his feet as his bare legs collided with a heavy mass of orange and white fur that wound about his legs and purred loudly. “Bonne soirée, Marmalade. How is my fat cat this evening?” The orange and white tabby responded with a yowl and stretched her forelegs up to his knees and sunk her claws shallowly into his skin. Etienne winced and frowned at the cat an eyebrow raising as he reached down and patted her head. “Ah, hungry, oui?” Let us do something about that. We shall dine on the veranda, ma mademoiselle minou.” The professor said, affecting an aristocratic air and gesturing toward the balcony as he moved that direction.
He carefully maneuvered his way to the bag of cat food on the bookshelf and retrieved it on his way through the library. The cat still twined herself around his legs and forced him to step carefully to avoid treading on her. “You must be patient, cherie! I must put the food in your bowl. Any fool can see you are not starving!” Etienne laughed looking at the cat’s plump form. “Elizabeth is feeding you too much! You were not this fat when you came here.” He clucked his tongue at her disapprovingly. “I am going to have a talk with your mere when she wakes up about your diet. You will pop like an over-ripe melon if she continues to overfeed you.”
The fat orange tabby bolted ahead down the hall and through the guest bedroom to paw at the French doors that led out onto the balcony. They were covered by heavy blackout curtains and visqueen plastic to keep the deadly sun out. He had been careful to glue the visqueen to the glass panes without covering the wooden framework. It was an interesting look, to say the least, fancy wooden frames with black panels between but he liked it. The heavy curtains that covered the doors had been strongly recommended by his decorator who he thought secretly disapproved of his taste. Etienne approached the doors and pulled aside a curtain going to his peep hole in the door to check for light. His body could feel the sun setting rapidly, but he knew he must be sure. A quick peek through the hole in the plastic showed a red sky over the horizon fading rapidly to darkness. He must hurry if he was to catch any of the beautiful red before it faded. Marmalade yowled more loudly at his feet and kneaded his legs again.
“Stop that, you! Be patient! I don’t even have a robe on.” He shook his head and fumbled with the door knob opening it slowly. As the door cracked open a foul odor rushed through to assault his nose. “Dégoûtant!” he spat, gagging at the abattoir smell and covering his mouth and nose with his free hand. The Frenchman moved through the door onto the balcony still holding the bag of catfood. The fat cat dashed past him and pawed at a large flower pot with a lush bush growing in it, her yowling increasing until he came over to look. Dropping the bag of food he peered into the leaves, but saw nothing interesting although the smell had become overpowering. On impulse, Etienne crouched down to examine the soil in the pot and fell back in horror seeing a rotting human hand protruding from the soil just inches from his face. “Foutre! Mon dieux, qu'est-ce que c'est?” the bag of cat food had spilled and the cat proceeded to eat it off the balcony boards as Etienne stared at the decomposing hand.
“Ma paquerette, what have you done?” he clenched his fingers in his wild brown curls and his blue eyes scanned the other pots from his seated position for other obvious body parts. There were a couple others. “Dieux! Foutre moi!” he spat in exasperation then closed his eyes and shook his head. He took in a few cleansing breaths to calm himself ignoring the stench and relaxed his body. “Alright, this is not impossible to get past. We simply need to reexamine the concept of organic gardening and modern techniques that do not involve… rotting body parts used for fertilizer!” Marmalade had finished her breakfast and came over to curl up in his lap and purr. He petted her absently. “Your mere has… an odd idea of organic gardening.” Etienne rose putting the cat on the floor and went inside headed downstairs to his sleeping mate.
“Elizabeth! We need to talk, ma Coeur!”
His long legs took the steps of the spiral staircase quickly as he climbed to the upper floor and entered the library heading for the guest bedroom balcony. With luck it would be empty and he would not disturb anyone this early. A meow came from his feet as his bare legs collided with a heavy mass of orange and white fur that wound about his legs and purred loudly. “Bonne soirée, Marmalade. How is my fat cat this evening?” The orange and white tabby responded with a yowl and stretched her forelegs up to his knees and sunk her claws shallowly into his skin. Etienne winced and frowned at the cat an eyebrow raising as he reached down and patted her head. “Ah, hungry, oui?” Let us do something about that. We shall dine on the veranda, ma mademoiselle minou.” The professor said, affecting an aristocratic air and gesturing toward the balcony as he moved that direction.
He carefully maneuvered his way to the bag of cat food on the bookshelf and retrieved it on his way through the library. The cat still twined herself around his legs and forced him to step carefully to avoid treading on her. “You must be patient, cherie! I must put the food in your bowl. Any fool can see you are not starving!” Etienne laughed looking at the cat’s plump form. “Elizabeth is feeding you too much! You were not this fat when you came here.” He clucked his tongue at her disapprovingly. “I am going to have a talk with your mere when she wakes up about your diet. You will pop like an over-ripe melon if she continues to overfeed you.”
The fat orange tabby bolted ahead down the hall and through the guest bedroom to paw at the French doors that led out onto the balcony. They were covered by heavy blackout curtains and visqueen plastic to keep the deadly sun out. He had been careful to glue the visqueen to the glass panes without covering the wooden framework. It was an interesting look, to say the least, fancy wooden frames with black panels between but he liked it. The heavy curtains that covered the doors had been strongly recommended by his decorator who he thought secretly disapproved of his taste. Etienne approached the doors and pulled aside a curtain going to his peep hole in the door to check for light. His body could feel the sun setting rapidly, but he knew he must be sure. A quick peek through the hole in the plastic showed a red sky over the horizon fading rapidly to darkness. He must hurry if he was to catch any of the beautiful red before it faded. Marmalade yowled more loudly at his feet and kneaded his legs again.
“Stop that, you! Be patient! I don’t even have a robe on.” He shook his head and fumbled with the door knob opening it slowly. As the door cracked open a foul odor rushed through to assault his nose. “Dégoûtant!” he spat, gagging at the abattoir smell and covering his mouth and nose with his free hand. The Frenchman moved through the door onto the balcony still holding the bag of catfood. The fat cat dashed past him and pawed at a large flower pot with a lush bush growing in it, her yowling increasing until he came over to look. Dropping the bag of food he peered into the leaves, but saw nothing interesting although the smell had become overpowering. On impulse, Etienne crouched down to examine the soil in the pot and fell back in horror seeing a rotting human hand protruding from the soil just inches from his face. “Foutre! Mon dieux, qu'est-ce que c'est?” the bag of cat food had spilled and the cat proceeded to eat it off the balcony boards as Etienne stared at the decomposing hand.
“Ma paquerette, what have you done?” he clenched his fingers in his wild brown curls and his blue eyes scanned the other pots from his seated position for other obvious body parts. There were a couple others. “Dieux! Foutre moi!” he spat in exasperation then closed his eyes and shook his head. He took in a few cleansing breaths to calm himself ignoring the stench and relaxed his body. “Alright, this is not impossible to get past. We simply need to reexamine the concept of organic gardening and modern techniques that do not involve… rotting body parts used for fertilizer!” Marmalade had finished her breakfast and came over to curl up in his lap and purr. He petted her absently. “Your mere has… an odd idea of organic gardening.” Etienne rose putting the cat on the floor and went inside headed downstairs to his sleeping mate.
“Elizabeth! We need to talk, ma Coeur!”
Etienne Thibodeaux PhD - Père de Raves
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Etienne
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Re: Conversations with the cat
“You are very fat and your mama feeds you entirely too much!” he held the fat orange tabby cat up looking her directly in her big green eyes and frowned at her seriously. Marmalade meowed loudly at him hoping there would be more food for her somewhere in this encounter and perhaps a scratch behind her ears. The tall vampire draped the fat orange cat over his shoulder and chest and began to pet her while she purred with a sound like a miniature freight train was inside her.
“Marmalade, you must be ten kilos now!” he said stroking the soft fur of her back and wandering out of the library to the bedroom then through the French doors onto the balcony. The night air was lovely as the early Autumn weather began to cool the night air. A breeze blew across the balcony ruffling the cat’s fur and the leaves of Elizabeth’s many plants she had growing there. His un-tucked button up shirt and loose pants flapped in the breeze as he walked around the balcony enjoying the sensation of the boards under his bare feet. As he moved about petting the cat, he casually inspected the plants to see if any new body parts were hidden there. His wife’s penchant for “organic gardening” or at least her version of it had to be monitored. They had had a discussion about it and he was fairly sure she had understood his position against the hiding of decomposing human body parts on their balcony, but it didn’t hurt to follow up on things to be sure they actually agreed on this issue. There didn’t seem to be any telltale odor of decay which was good, however the breeze was blowing and that might be masking it.
His phone rang at that moment startling the cat. She made to leap down sinking claws into his skin so he allowed her to get down from his arms and pulled the phone from his pocket to see who was calling. He didn’t know the number offhand, but decided to answer it anyway. “Hello.” Etienne said into the phone.
“May I speak to Mr. Theeba… Mr. Theebaducks, please?” said a woman’s voice with an Indian accent.
“It’s pronounced Tih-bah-DOE, madame. This is he. How may I help you?” he said with a sigh. It was not the first time someone had difficulty pronouncing his name.
“Sir, I have to tell you that this is an attempt to collect a debt and this call may be recorded or monitored for training purposes…”
“What?!? What do you mean a debt collection call? Who is this?” he demanded into the phone.
“Sir, my name is…Debbie… and I have to tell you that this is an attempt to collect a debt and this call may be recorded or monitored for training purposes. I am calling regarding your credit card account with Platinum First Bank. I am speaking with Mr. Eteena Theebaducks. Is that correct, sir?” the woman said haltingly into the phone. Etienne’s mouth twisted into a confused frown, a long-fingered hand clenching in his curly brown hair.
“Oui, I have a credit card account with Platinum First Bank. I have not received a statement this month to pay, however. What is the problem with my account, madame?” he said, a feeling of dread starting to fill the pit of his stomach. “My name is Etienne Thibadeaux!”
“Your account is past due in the amount of $1,374.37, Mr. Theebaducks. We sent a statement to your address as well as a past due notice, but have still not received payment or heard from you to make payment arrangements. Would you like to make a payment at this time? ” she seemed to get into the swing of things by simply ignoring the difficult name and took on a slightly condescending yet professional tone.
“Qu'est-ce que tu dis?” he half shouted into the phone. This made no sense.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t speak that language. Would you like to speak to a Spanish speaking associate?”
“Espagnol? Err…ah…Spanish? Why would I need a Spanish speaking associate? I speak English just fine! That was French anyway!” he shook his head releasing his hair and waving his free hand to emphasize his statement. “Now, what are you talking about with a past due balance? I always pay my bills on time!”
“Mr. Theebaducks, your account has a past due balance of $1,374.37. This includes a $37.29 late fee. Would you like to make a payment at this time?”
The professor stared into a potted plant with thick green leaves and large pink blossoms wondering incongruously what the hell kind of plant it was as a condescending Indian woman informed him that his credit rating was in danger of plummeting drastically. It made no sense. “There must be some mistake, madame. I’ve made no large purchases recently.”
“No, sir, Mr. Theebaducks…”
“Thibadeaux!”
“It looks like your wife did. It says ‘Elizabeth G. Theebaducks’ in a very fancy, but legible signature on the credit card receipt. Her writing is very pretty, sir!” the woman sneezed into the phone loudly then apologized absently. “Would you like to make a payment at this time? A payment of the full balance will bring your account current and stop any further collection activity.”
“My wife you say?”
“Yes, sir. Mrs. Elizabeth G. Theebaducks is the name printed under the signature on the sales receipt and the signature matches up with it.”
“Thibadeaux.” he repeated clenching then releasing his tortured curls and rubbing his forehead and eyes. “Alright! Alright! I will pay the full amount!” he began to mutter curses in French under his breath.
“Very good, Mr. Theebaducks…”
“Thibadeaux!”
“Would you like to pay using the checking account on file ending in 9752?”
“Oui….Yes!”
“Thank you, sir. We have debited your checking account in the amount of $1,374.37 which brings your Platinum First bank credit card account up to date and restores your card to full use. Your confirmation number is 20984556666002 and you will receive an email confirmation of this payment shortly. Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Teebaducks?”
“Thibadeaux! It’s pronounced Thibadeaux! You can say my name correctly, you imbecile! Au revoir!” he tapped the touch screen of the phone angrily ending the call and resisted the sudden urge to fling the phone off the eighth floor balcony into the teeth of the increasing breeze. Instead he carefully placed the phone back in his pants pocket and scowled at the view of the dark forest outside Harper Rock and the Quarantine Zone off to the left.
As he wheeled to go back inside, the wind slammed the French doors open and into the walls on either side as if his presence had flung them forcefully aside. He stalked through the bedroom his eyes passing over the magic circle enscribed on the bedroom floor and its fat, drippy candles absently then looked up as he entered the library. There above the mantle hung the over-priced, reprinted monstrosity that he had just paid for. He stood staring at it accusingly with his fists on his hips. “What on earth does she see in you?” he asked the painting, a look of genuine incredulity on his face. Etienne put his hands up in resignation, shaking his head and turned away from the painting to find the fat orange tabby cat on the leather couch again. He picked her up and sat down with her in his lap stroking her fur and scratching behind her ears to which she purred in response.
“Your mama is in trouble when I see her, mademoiselle Marmalade.”
“Marmalade, you must be ten kilos now!” he said stroking the soft fur of her back and wandering out of the library to the bedroom then through the French doors onto the balcony. The night air was lovely as the early Autumn weather began to cool the night air. A breeze blew across the balcony ruffling the cat’s fur and the leaves of Elizabeth’s many plants she had growing there. His un-tucked button up shirt and loose pants flapped in the breeze as he walked around the balcony enjoying the sensation of the boards under his bare feet. As he moved about petting the cat, he casually inspected the plants to see if any new body parts were hidden there. His wife’s penchant for “organic gardening” or at least her version of it had to be monitored. They had had a discussion about it and he was fairly sure she had understood his position against the hiding of decomposing human body parts on their balcony, but it didn’t hurt to follow up on things to be sure they actually agreed on this issue. There didn’t seem to be any telltale odor of decay which was good, however the breeze was blowing and that might be masking it.
His phone rang at that moment startling the cat. She made to leap down sinking claws into his skin so he allowed her to get down from his arms and pulled the phone from his pocket to see who was calling. He didn’t know the number offhand, but decided to answer it anyway. “Hello.” Etienne said into the phone.
“May I speak to Mr. Theeba… Mr. Theebaducks, please?” said a woman’s voice with an Indian accent.
“It’s pronounced Tih-bah-DOE, madame. This is he. How may I help you?” he said with a sigh. It was not the first time someone had difficulty pronouncing his name.
“Sir, I have to tell you that this is an attempt to collect a debt and this call may be recorded or monitored for training purposes…”
“What?!? What do you mean a debt collection call? Who is this?” he demanded into the phone.
“Sir, my name is…Debbie… and I have to tell you that this is an attempt to collect a debt and this call may be recorded or monitored for training purposes. I am calling regarding your credit card account with Platinum First Bank. I am speaking with Mr. Eteena Theebaducks. Is that correct, sir?” the woman said haltingly into the phone. Etienne’s mouth twisted into a confused frown, a long-fingered hand clenching in his curly brown hair.
“Oui, I have a credit card account with Platinum First Bank. I have not received a statement this month to pay, however. What is the problem with my account, madame?” he said, a feeling of dread starting to fill the pit of his stomach. “My name is Etienne Thibadeaux!”
“Your account is past due in the amount of $1,374.37, Mr. Theebaducks. We sent a statement to your address as well as a past due notice, but have still not received payment or heard from you to make payment arrangements. Would you like to make a payment at this time? ” she seemed to get into the swing of things by simply ignoring the difficult name and took on a slightly condescending yet professional tone.
“Qu'est-ce que tu dis?” he half shouted into the phone. This made no sense.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t speak that language. Would you like to speak to a Spanish speaking associate?”
“Espagnol? Err…ah…Spanish? Why would I need a Spanish speaking associate? I speak English just fine! That was French anyway!” he shook his head releasing his hair and waving his free hand to emphasize his statement. “Now, what are you talking about with a past due balance? I always pay my bills on time!”
“Mr. Theebaducks, your account has a past due balance of $1,374.37. This includes a $37.29 late fee. Would you like to make a payment at this time?”
The professor stared into a potted plant with thick green leaves and large pink blossoms wondering incongruously what the hell kind of plant it was as a condescending Indian woman informed him that his credit rating was in danger of plummeting drastically. It made no sense. “There must be some mistake, madame. I’ve made no large purchases recently.”
“No, sir, Mr. Theebaducks…”
“Thibadeaux!”
“It looks like your wife did. It says ‘Elizabeth G. Theebaducks’ in a very fancy, but legible signature on the credit card receipt. Her writing is very pretty, sir!” the woman sneezed into the phone loudly then apologized absently. “Would you like to make a payment at this time? A payment of the full balance will bring your account current and stop any further collection activity.”
“My wife you say?”
“Yes, sir. Mrs. Elizabeth G. Theebaducks is the name printed under the signature on the sales receipt and the signature matches up with it.”
“Thibadeaux.” he repeated clenching then releasing his tortured curls and rubbing his forehead and eyes. “Alright! Alright! I will pay the full amount!” he began to mutter curses in French under his breath.
“Very good, Mr. Theebaducks…”
“Thibadeaux!”
“Would you like to pay using the checking account on file ending in 9752?”
“Oui….Yes!”
“Thank you, sir. We have debited your checking account in the amount of $1,374.37 which brings your Platinum First bank credit card account up to date and restores your card to full use. Your confirmation number is 20984556666002 and you will receive an email confirmation of this payment shortly. Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Teebaducks?”
“Thibadeaux! It’s pronounced Thibadeaux! You can say my name correctly, you imbecile! Au revoir!” he tapped the touch screen of the phone angrily ending the call and resisted the sudden urge to fling the phone off the eighth floor balcony into the teeth of the increasing breeze. Instead he carefully placed the phone back in his pants pocket and scowled at the view of the dark forest outside Harper Rock and the Quarantine Zone off to the left.
As he wheeled to go back inside, the wind slammed the French doors open and into the walls on either side as if his presence had flung them forcefully aside. He stalked through the bedroom his eyes passing over the magic circle enscribed on the bedroom floor and its fat, drippy candles absently then looked up as he entered the library. There above the mantle hung the over-priced, reprinted monstrosity that he had just paid for. He stood staring at it accusingly with his fists on his hips. “What on earth does she see in you?” he asked the painting, a look of genuine incredulity on his face. Etienne put his hands up in resignation, shaking his head and turned away from the painting to find the fat orange tabby cat on the leather couch again. He picked her up and sat down with her in his lap stroking her fur and scratching behind her ears to which she purred in response.
“Your mama is in trouble when I see her, mademoiselle Marmalade.”
Etienne Thibodeaux PhD - Père de Raves