Something Fishy

Chapter 8: In Which I Encounter Fake Cats and Forest Folk (And Get Sidetracked)

     I was so surprised that it took me a moment to realize that none of the cats were moving. They weren’t even blinking. It was as though they hadn’t even noticed my grand entrance. I had knocked over several of them when I landed on the floor, and now they were just lying there as though they were dead. God, had I killed them? I gingerly picked one up. It was stiff. Stiff? Didn’t it take a while for things to go stiff after they died?

     Then a horrible thought occurred to me. Was I in a room of stuffed cats?

     Ewww. I stood up, trying not to touch any of them, which was hard since they were everywhere. I always get kind of freaked out by taxidermy. Once, when I was little, I went to grandpa’s house, which I had been told would be full of stuffed animals. I was excited until I arrived there and discovered that they were a different sort of stuffed animals from the kinds I liked to play with.Of course, the fact that I initially thought the stuffed tiger in the bathroom was alive didn’t help make me feel any better. I still have nightmares to this day...

     “Myrtle?” Basil shouted.  “Little girl with glasses! Are either of you down here?”

     Geez, I’d nearly forgotten about the search. They would probably be coming in here. I looked around for a place to hide, but in a gigantic room occupied solely by very placid cats, that wasn’t exactly possible.     Someone was turning the doorknob. This was it, I guess.

      The door swung open and Basil was standing there.

     “Uh, hi,” I said.

     “Hello,” he replied, looking at me curiously. “Isn’t this door locked?”

      “Air duct,” I said sheepishly, pointing towards the ceiling.

      “I see,” said Basil. He looked more interested than upset.

      “So, what’s up with all these dead cats? It seems a little morbid to me. I mean, I know some people like taxidermy. My grandpa sure does,” I jabbered.

      Basil looked quizzically at me for a moment, but said, “These animals aren’t real.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “Oh, yes,” said Basil, nodding vigorously. “They’re manufactured.” Instantly his hands flew to his mouth. “I mean, no, yes –”

      “What do you mean, manufactured? Is that what The Boss is making in the secret factory down here? What’s their purpose?”I stared at him, willing him to continue.

       Basil shook his head rapidly. “I can’t tell you, I’ve already said too much. The Boss won’t be happy, he won’t be happy at all…”

      “He doesn’t have to know that you said anything,” I said. “I won’t tell him.”

      His eyes widened. “You won’t?”

     “No. And you don’t have to, either.”

      “But…what do I say if he asks if I told you anything?”

     “You lie,” I said brusquely.

      Basil lied down on the floor.

      “No, I meant lie, like saying something that’s not true,” I said.

     Basil scrambed to his feet, looking slightly embarrassed. “Saying something that’s not true,” Basil repeated. A look of wonder came over his face. “I never thought of that!”