“And you, my beloved friend can call me Johnny. And you know something I got my doctoral degree fair and square, no cheating or anything like that. I don‟t have to show it off to anyone. I know I got it and that‟s sufficient.” I followed Johnny to his apartment, which by the way was only a five minute walk away.
The apartment building was relatively small only three floors high. It was dark brown in colour and seemed otherwise bland. It‟s not what I‟d expect a retired chemical engineer to consider home. But, I didn‟t know Johnny that well. So, I‟d have to dig in to find out why he chose to live in the particular apartment building.
Johnny extended his key chain and then unlocked and opened the front door to the apartment building. As soon as we‟d entered the building he made certain to close the door behind him.
We walked through a short hallway and then walked up to the second floor. As expected, a building this small wouldn‟t contain any elevators; too expensive to build, maintain and not enough tenants to make it worthwhile.
Johnny cringed every time he took a step. He couldn‟t really use his cane, that‟s probably why.
As soon as we were on the second floor Johnny took in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. Afterwards, he turned to face me and then grinned.
“Chip, we‟re almost there!”
“I‟m happy! Now, let‟s see what your apartment look like.” Johnny and I walked to apartment number two hundred and nine. He extended his key chain, unlocked the door and then he and I entered the apartment.
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The first thing I noticed about Johnny‟s apartment was the utter neatness of it. Everything from pots and pans, clothing, books and magazines and whatever else were neatly placed in their designated areas.
“Chip, come on in! Look, you and I must have a nice long talk, if you don‟t mind?”
“Let‟s sit down!”
Johnny and I sat down on a dark blue coloured sofa. It was roughly ten feet long and the pillows on it were soft and fluffy. But anyway, I wasn‟t there to admire the furniture I was there to converse and get to know my newfound friend some more.
“Chip, tell me what happened with those goons before I came on the scene?”
That statement brought out extreme anger and hatred emanating from my heart, not against Johnny but against people like the goons.
“Those creeps, they thought I was an f-cking ni- ... I mean they thought I was a black cat.”
“Ha, Ha, Ha, Chip, you make me laugh! Don‟t worry I know it was a slip of the tongue.
But I know those words are on the tip of your tongue and just underneath your skin. You can‟t help it. You were probably brought up never seeing, hearing, or speaking to a black person.
Isn‟t that right?”
“Johnny, that‟s not right! Umm ... I once saw a black man on television. I mean, before I met you.”
“Ha, Ha, Ha, Chip, you‟re something else! I‟m not talking about that. I mean, have you ever had a black friend in real life, or even spoken to one before?”
“Umm, like umm ... I guess not.”
“Now imagine those goons that we saw. They‟ve probably never known a black kitty before. Even if they had known one or a thousand for that matter, they likely had stereotypes that wouldn‟t budge.”
“Johnny, I‟m not like that! I don‟t have any stereotypes of black cats or black humans, c‟mon why would you say such a thing?”
“Chip, what should we eat?”
“I know, let‟s have some fried chicken, cornbread and tons of watermelon. Now, Johnny, I know you love this kind of food.” Johnny began to laugh so hard he actually fell onto the living room carpet and then began to clap his hands the way a laughing person does.
“Chip, I know you‟re a really nice kitty. But, listen, there you go again. You assume that because I‟m black I‟ll automatically love those three food items you identified.
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Another thing, Chip, just for the record, do you love fried chicken?”
“Yes Johnny, I absolutely love fried chicken!”
“Chip, do you love cornbread?”
“Yes Johnny, I absolutely love cornbread!”
“And one more question, Chip, do you love watermelon?”
“Yes Johnny, I absolutely love watermelon!”
“Chip, why is it that if „you‟ love these food items it‟s because you like the way they taste. But if I love them, it‟s a black thing?”
Johnny totally shocked me with that final statement. I had no idea how to respond to him. But regardless, I agreed with his point. He was right. I now understood something new.
“Chip, now let‟s get serious. What do you really want to eat?”
“Can we order pizza? And maybe we can have something to drink and let‟s not forget about dessert.”
“Yes, that‟s a good idea!”
Johnny pulled out his cell phone and then called for some pizza. He ordered an all-dressed extra large pizza and two slices of lemon meringue pie.
“Johnny what about our drinks, I mean, pizza makes people thirsty! Not to mention dessert.”
“Don‟t worry, Chip, I‟ve got a whole fridge full of drinks.
Look, I‟ve got pop, juice, milk and cold water. But I‟m in the mood for some alcoholic drinking too. Are you game?”
“Well, being that it‟s a special occasion, yes, but not too much alcohol. And as soon as the pizza arrives I expect you to bring forth a pitcher of diet, caffeinated pop. I can‟t eat pizza with liquor. I must drink it with a carbonated beverage.” Johnny grinned at me and then stood up. He motioned me to stay on the sofa.
Johnny went to the fridge and then brought back a gargantuan bottle of Vodka; perhaps it contained half a gallon of booze. Again, he motioned me to stay put. He came back a second time carrying two large glasses and a carton of orange juice in his hands.
“Johnny, are you finished?”
“No, Chip, just one more thing.”
Shortly afterwards, Johnny returned carrying two bowls, one full of sliced limes and whole cherries and the other contained crushed ice.
“All right, Chip, don‟t worry, we just want to get a little tipsy before the pizza delivery man gets here.” Johnny filled both glasses with a combination of one third Vodka, and the same proportion for orange juice and crushed ice.
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A slice of lime and a cherry were dipped into each glass, and this was the same formula used throughout the night.
“Chip, hold it a minute! Before we start drinking, I need to remind you about something very important. You‟re still a black cat, not that that‟s bad or anything.
I have a solution in my bathroom cupboard called ACME Tar & Paint Remover. Don‟t worry, it won‟t harm you. I have to pour some of the solution into a cloth and then rub the treated cloth throughout your body wherever hair is present.
Now, let‟s start drinking! And if you have to puke please tell me beforehand. As you‟ve probably noticed there‟s a big window over there. Just puke out of the window, but make sure there‟s no one below. And another thing too, make sure that the window is open otherwise you‟ll splatter the window.
A clock in the corner of the living room indicated it was 10:30 P.M. The night was still young.
Johnny and I grinned at each other, but before I took my first drink he stopped me dead cold. I guess there was one more thing to be told.
“Hold it, Chip! I forgot something else. Listen; because you‟re a cat the use of a straw is imperative.” Before I could respond, Johnny shot up into the air and ran to the kitchen and got two straws, one for me and one for him just in case he became too drunk to hold a glass.
I indicated to Johnny that at least for now, I‟d drink my screw drivers clutching the glass with both paws. Thankfully, all the articles were placed on a long coffee table beside the sofa.
Johnny sat down on his lazy boy chair. He indicated that he didn‟t want to sit beside me but in front of me. It would make conversing much easier, no head turning and sore necks. He was absolutely right.
Johnny appeared to be a very savvy and intelligent person.
And the fact that he held a doctorate in chemical engineering was a remarkable achievement, indeed. However, there was something quite troubling about this scenario. Although I saw pictures on the wall of Johnny, there were none of family members. And why wasn‟t this man married? I asked myself.
But as time went on, I stopped pondering about this thought. Johnny and I gently butted our glasses together and then said the customary „cheers‟. We were now officially drinking.
My initial intent was to have two or a maximum of three drinks, that‟s all. I‟d enjoy my late supper that way.
But that thought couldn‟t have been further from the truth.
Johnny and I drank one drink after another. And by the time the 171
pizza delivery man pressed the buzzer downstairs we‟d already drank four drinks each and the night was still young.
Johnny reached over to pick up his phone and then pressed down on the number nine button for several seconds. Afterwards, he put his phone back to where it originally was.
“Chip, I‟m going to open the door for the pizza delivery man. Bell‟s Good Pizza workers know me very well. This is the only pizza delivery service that I ever use.” Johnny did as he said he would, waiting for the pizza delivery man at the mouth of the door and holding two bills, a twenty dollar bill and a ten dollar bill in his right hand. He glanced at me and then motioned me to move some of the articles on the coffee table to my end. I understood that the carton of pizza and the desserts would take up much space.
A minute later, the pizza delivery man was at our door with our food.
“Hey, Jim, how are you?”
“I‟m fine thank you. Do you want me to put this food on the coffee table, as usual?”
“Of course and by the way this is my beloved guest.” The pizza delivery man didn‟t speak to me, though he did smile at me and nodded his head and then gave me a quick wave of the hand.
Johnny gave the pizza delivery man the two bills and then wished him a good evening.
“Okay, Chip, now we can get down to business. You‟re going to be shocked. These guys have the best freaking pizza in all of Montreal. The crust is always thick and there‟s always extra sauce on it. The toppings always taste fresh and in all my years ordering pizza from Bell‟s Good Pizza I never got a burnt one, not even once.”
I grinned at Johnny and then I lifted the lid of the carton. Without saying a word to Johnny I took notice of the largest and best slice, pulled it up and towards me. It was mine for the taking!
In all there were a total of 8 large slices of pizza. The desserts were large too. And the drinks, well, that‟s self-explanatory.
We began to eat our meal in earnest. We didn‟t stop drinking our screw drivers though, but for the duration of the meal we slowed down a bit.
As soon as we finished our pizza and our desserts we concentrated on our drinking. And with each gulp of booze that went down our throats we opened up to each other just a bit more.
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“You know something Chip those three goons were horrible persons, carrying those machetes. Man, I think they would‟ve killed the both of us in a jiffy, if possible.
But Chip, their racism isn‟t unique. A lot of people are racist, and it is right underneath their skin and on the tip of their tongue.
Don‟t worry Chip I‟m not talking about you. I know you almost said the „N word‟ but you had the decency to slam on the brakes. It was simply a matter of a slip of speech. Now that, I can forgive, but there are folks who‟ve addressed me by using the „N word‟ before.
See, sometimes, they don‟t even call a black person the „N
word‟. It‟s their behaviour that tells it all.
Case in point, back in 1960, I mean my first day going to work for the ACME Chemical Engineering Corporation, as soon as I entered the main building to get to the lab the security guard stopped me.
He said, hey, what shift of janitors are you from?
I was so enraged at that bastard I almost punched him in the nose. But I needed and truly wanted my job. I‟d just completed my doctoral degree and didn‟t wanna destroy my career so fast. After all, back in those days a lot of people considered a black man like me nothing more than „a boy‟.” At that point I felt that Johnny was over-reacting. I knew there was much racism against black people but, well, maybe we‟d drank too much.
“Now work, that was another problem. I had to literally be three times as good as the other guy. And oh gosh if I ever made a mistake, even a microscopic one, it was always because I was black. But when I solved a big complicated problem it was because I attended white schools. I simply couldn‟t win. And I hated it.
But hold on a minute, Chip. There‟s more. Back in the olden days I noticed that oftentimes when a police car passed me during the evening the officer would always give me a long, earnest look.
Even though I was wearing a suit and a tie at the time and I‟d never been arrested, it didn‟t make any damn difference.
And when whenever I told someone who I was and what I did, that person would look at me in confusion. On one occasion a homeless wino demanded to see a valid I.D. One of those winos had the gall to address me as „boy‟.
I felt that Johnny was somewhat paranoid. So, I tried using my therapist skills to help him feel better and to overcome his paranoid feelings and beliefs.
But by then, Johnny and I had had eleven screw drivers and we‟d eaten all the food. Not a single olive or speck of food was 173
left in the pizza carton. And for a second, I contemplated about eating part of the carton, but later brushed it off. That would‟ve made me very sick, indeed.
I leaped onto the carpet and then tried to leap onto Johnny‟s chest but missed. Mind you, my intent was to cup his face and then speak to him ever so softly. I ended up cupping his left knee. I think we‟d had too much to drink.
“Chip, what are you doing? You‟re cupping my knee!”
“Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup, sorry Johnny I need to make an additional attempt at reaching your chest.” I laboriously climbed Johnny‟s knee, finally reaching his chest, but I was dizzy and groggy and felt that my speech was somewhat slurred.
“Johnny, don‟t be like that, c‟mon! I know for a fact that some people are bad, but your description of them is off.
Everyone‟s not a racist. And everyone doesn‟t hate blacks.
C‟mon, what do you think they‟re going to do, lynch you?
Johnny, we‟re not living in the Deep South during the 1940s or 1950s. Try to think about the good people in this world, really.
Johnny, when you sober up I want you to say „there are many good people out there‟ one thousand times without taking a break. You‟ll see I‟m certain it‟ll improve the way you feel.”
“Chip, you don‟t understand! Being of European stock, you don‟t know what it feels like to be a minority, I mean, a black man in this part of the world.”
There was an interruption in our conversation. We resumed drinking until each of us had an additional four drinks, thereby stopping at a total of 15 drinks.
Now, it was my turn to spill my guts. And boy did I need to do it.
“Johnny, I don‟t like it when humans tower over my people.
Humans look like bipedal giants. And oftentimes they appear really menacing.
There was a time when giant lions and sabre-toothed cats were feared by humans. That was back in the good ole days.
Humans were a lot weaker then, and their numbers were tolerable.
I don‟t like it! Why should humans rule this world? Why can‟t felines be the alpha species of this planet?
As far as I‟m concerned humans are nothing more than civilized apes. They don‟t deserve to rule this planet. Ask any cat in private and chances are he or she will say the same.
Johnny, humans start and end all wars, conflicts and acts of genocide. Cats have never done the aforementioned atrocities.
Furthermore, humans kill countless millions upon millions of innocent animals for sport. What‟s so sporty about sport killing?”
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“Chip, I understand your anger, frustration and hatred towards many humans. But like you said to me, not all of them are bad. And certainly, try to concentrate your thinking on the good ones; you and I know for a fact that, well ... you were right, there are many good humans out there.” My counselling technique had already begun to show positive results.
“Chip, c‟mon buddy, tell me what you, a typical cat that you are, want.”
“Johnny, I wanna be a giant lion or a sabre-tooth cat. I wanna be as strong as Superman. I wanna be filthy rich, so much so I wanna live in a gargantuan grand palace. I wanna be respected and feared by all people, especially humans. I want my own chef to cook me all the food that I want and just in case I wanna food replicator, identical to the kind they have on Star Trek. I want to know how my „pretend daddy‟ died; if he bailed out of the commercial airliner or if he stayed until it crashed.”
“Chip, what about a mate? I mean, you‟re a virgin aren‟t you?”
“No ... I‟m not damn it! I‟ve ... I mean ... Cough! Cough!
Cough! I‟ve had my share of kitties. I‟m a stud. I‟m not a freaking virgin! I mean, Johnny, I‟m sorry for going off on you.
I hate it when people assume that I‟ve never been with a female of my species.”
“Okay, apology accepted. Now, there‟s another thing. And this question is more important than my first one.
Tell me about your „pretend daddy‟s‟ demise, please.”
“We were heading southward from California to Mexico City on Rio Grande Airlines, and well, something horrible and tragic happened while on the plane.
You see, things went blank. I was out cold for at least several hours. Then, when I came to I noticed that my father and I were the only persons in the plane.
To make a long story short, it appeared as though my father incurred a serious internal injury.
He‟d given me a mini-parachute toy before we boarded the plane. I ended up using it but my father was too injured to move, but there was something peculiar about this.
I don‟t know why but I scented ketchup in the air; it became apparent after everyone else except my father and I were left on the plane.”
“Hold it, Chip! You mean to tell me that your „pretend daddy‟ just so happened to give you a toy parachute that was the correct size and configuration to be used for bailing out of the plane. And you say that there was a ketchup scent in the air.
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Chip, you suspected that your pretend father had internal bleeding, but was there any visible blood?”
“Actually, Johnny, there was. He had blood in and around his mouth.”
“Blood, you say. Are you certain?”
“Umm like what do you mean, Johnny?”
“Think hard Chip was the scent of ketchup stronger when you were closer to your pretend father?”
“Actually, it was.”
“Chip, what about the blood? Think really hard and tell me what it looked like, exactly.”
“Johnny, umm it was thick and sticky and certainly red.”
“Chip, blood tends to get powdery when it dries. Was this blood dry and powdery?”
“No Johnny, it wasn‟t, and come to think of it, it wasn‟t blood-red. It was more like ketchup red.”
“Chip, we‟ve had fifteen drinks each. But for us to advance any further on the topic we both need another screw driver and we mustn‟t sip it or drink it slowly. We must guzzle it like camels drinking water.”
Johnny was barely able to fix us a couple of screw drivers.
But as soon as he did, I took his advice by guzzling my screw driver.
Johnny and I finished our screw drivers at about the same moment. And now he was ready to drop a bombshell on me, really.
“Chip, please brace yourself and don‟t lose it. I think your pretend father wasn‟t really dying. I think that he pasted ketchup in and around his mouth. He probably wanted you to bail out without questioning his request.
Chip, would you have bailed out if your pretend daddy was healthy and strong at the time?”
“No, my pretend daddy deceived me! He didn‟t love me!”
“No, Chip, that‟s not what I said or meant. I think your pretend daddy really loved you. And what was his name, if you don‟t mind me asking you.”
“His name was Bassam Imam. You see, he had a real son named Corey Jameson before we met.
Corey Jameson died before I met him. Although it was certainly a sad event for my pretend daddy, I was relieved that Corey was gone forever. I didn‟t wanna compete with him for my pretend daddy‟s love. I would‟ve lost the battle. Corey was a biological child while I was a „pretend child‟.”
“Chip, I think there‟s a possibility that your father‟s still alive. Now don‟t take this as a fact, because I certainly don‟t want to elevate your spirits for nothing. You may later discover your dad was, in actuality really dead.”
“Johnny, I need another drink, just one more.” 176
Johnny and I each drank a final drink, making our total ...
as we knew it at seventeen screw drivers each, and remember the glasses were large.
Johnny had opened the living room window an hour or so earlier. He said that he did this once a day every day regardless of the temperature outside.
And as Johnny and I were wallowing in self-pity and depression we heard an argument ensue from the alley below the window.
“Charley, give me back my f-cking cookie! I want it right now!”
“Mickey, it‟s not your f-cking cookie! Finders-keepers, that‟s the law of the jungle!”
The argument between the pair of individuals continued to build up, indicating an imminent physical confrontation. I had to see what was going on.
I galloped to the window panel and then leaped onto it. I fell onto the floor on the first attempt. I repeated this action several times before I was finally able to reach the window panel and see the combatants.
“Chip, those raccoons are always fighting for food and females. It‟s a never-ending battle.”
“Charley, this is my f-cking dumpster!”
“Mickey, no it‟s not! You don‟t own anything around here!” Although I felt wobbly I was able to hold on to the side of the window panel and speak my mind. I had to otherwise the raccoons would‟ve killed each other right in front of the dumpster. Thereafter, the rats would‟ve had a feast.
“Hey, guys, guess what? I‟m a licensed mental health worker. I have a doctoral degree in psychology with a double emphasis, one in clinical psychology and the other in abnormal psychology. I‟m sure that I can help you guys.” But as soon as I finished my sentence not onl