Lou Rawls, Garfield, and The Book

When I got home, when I got to my parents house, I was ashamed to cross the threshold after hanging out all night. I looked like a hitchhiker. My hair looked a fright, clothes wrinkled and without shape, sleep in my eyes, breath stank enough to blow fireballs. I left home the previous night around six pm, here it is two pm the following day. I came in, went upstairs to my pink and lilac room, got on one of the twin beds and proceeded to take the stale clothes off. I ran a tub of water, brushed my teeth and hair while the pedestal tub filled. Once full, I slid in the hot water and Garfield the Cat began to massage my back.

In a rich deep voice unlike the on he has on his show, he asked, “Would you like me to pour you a glass of wine?”

“You are truly too good to me, old friend.”

Garfield and I went way back. I was his number one fan. I watched all of the holiday specials and read his comics in the newspaper. He even had books full of comics that I would check out at the library. Through out my life I collected anything with his image. In my teenage years Garfield starred in his own series “Garfield and Friends.” But, I didn’t meet Garfield until my adulthood. I meet him at an exclusive club that Tisha won tickets to a celebrity event. At first I didn’t notice him in his Versace suit, and black velveteen Kangol. He and Samuel L. Jackson were amazed that they both wore the same designer. Then all eyes were on me because I had on a black leather Fedora style Kangol and they loved it on me. We talked all night, Garfield and I. He instantly fell in love with me. Not the kind of romantic love, but a chum, buddy, you are my friend type of love. He found out that Virginia was truly for lovers, yet quite different from Paris where he frequents. In Virginia Garfield could relax from the hounding paparazzi and fainting women. Also, he wanted to keep an eye on me, his “dearest Carmen.”

“I know what you’ll enjoy when you get out of the tub. I’ll run downstairs and fix you a little something to eat?”

“Oh no Garfield, you do too much for me already.”

“We must have a little lasagna, I made it last night and there’s a little left over. You know Macavity almost out ate me. That’s my kind of guy. All I have to do is pop it in the oven.”

“Well if you insist.”

“Let me run along then. I must see where that sexy Grizzabella scattered off to.”

I love that little girl. Maybe I’ll serenade her with a song or two.” He has an outstanding voice, sort of like Lou Rowles. He wiped his hands dry on a thick white towel, folded it and placed it on the hamper. He then popped open a bottle of Champaign, poured me a glass and one for him, and toasted to love and lasagna. As he opened the door, I felt coolness all over my body.

Hump. ‘Damn, Garfield the Cat.’ The water was cold, so I ran some more hot water. ‘Warming up lasagna’. ‘Champaign?’ I looked around and there was no Champaign. I bathed myself in a soft floral bath gel. I got out and grabbed the thick white towel on the hamper. It was damp.