LITMIR.BIZ

      Job’s Cat

      The two were old friends.

      I noticed them one day on the road in front of J’s house and knew from the start that neither could be trusted.

      One was a vagabond who hadn’t bathed in weeks. His hair was matted. A moustache perched perilously on his upper lip like a twisted caterpillar in slow painful transit to his chin, leaving his mouth mostly hidden. His beard was a staging area for remnants of his last meal and an archaeological site in which others were preserved at varying depths. Bad grooming is one thing, but this character was jerky, bird-like, and that rubbed me the wrong way. His head bobbed. He had raptor eyes, like high flying birds that take in everything at once—impossibly intelligent and cold at the same time. He looked right through you but didn’t focus: now here, now there, first one thing, then another.

      The other was slick, fashionably dressed, not a thread or a hair out of place. I wondered how he could stand on that dusty road without showing a speck of dust. Maybe that’s why the two hung together: Bird was a magnet for dust who kept Slick spotless.

      “What have you been up to now?” Bird says.

      “With you every separation is nothing but a breath in the middle of an endless conversation,” says Slick.

      “Well?”

      “It’s been years. You might begin with ‘Hello. It’s been a long time, and I missed you. How have you been?’”

      “Hello. What have you been up to now?”

      “Wandering here and there. Trying to keep things under control.”

      “Have you?”

      “More or less. At least I attend to one thing at a time.”

      “There’s your problem. You must have noticed J; isn’t he a trip? The man dreams up rituals that wouldn’t come to me in a thousand years—thinks they keep him prosperous and his children safe. Some are really entertaining. Have you seen him? He’s unshakable.”

      “Not unshakable, just unshaken.”

      “Come again?”

      “No reason to doubt. Let him lose some possessions, and I promise he’ll be shaken.”

      “Promise?”

      “Without a doubt.”

      “No doubt. That calls for a test.”

      I slipped under the hedge and lost sight of the two for an instant. When I looked back, Slick was alone, watching J’s house. A messenger, out of breath, dashed in through the gate and pounded on the door. Lucky I’d moved, or he would have stepped on my tail. The door opened, and I saw J.

      “Yes?” he said.

      “I have terrible news,” said the breathless messenger. “There’s been a riot. Looters sacked your store and killed the entire staff. I am left alone to tell the tale.”

      Before he was finished, another messenger showed up and said, “What was left of the store was struck by lightning and burned down. The fire spread to your warehouse facility, and it was a total loss. Nothing is salvageable. I am left alone to tell the tale.”

      A third messenger showed up. I made sure I was completely out of sight.

      “There’s been a carjacking. The Mercedes. The chauffeur murdered,” he said. “The BMW was parked at the warehouse and exploded when the fire spread. I am left alone to tell the tale.”

      At that moment, a small, serious looking man with a briefcase showed up: J’s accountant. “Bad news, J. Somebody failed to make your insurance payments, and the policy’s lapsed. None of your losses are covered.”

      Another messenger arrived, sobbing: “Your children and their families were all together at your oldest son’s house when a tornado struck. The roof collapsed, and they were all killed. I am left alone to tell the tale.”

      What else could go wrong? I lay real low.

      J said a little prayer, and I saw Slick smile. Then he was not there.

      I was considering going into the house for a bite to eat when I heard them on the other side of the hedge.

      “Well,” said Bird. “What have you been up to now?”

      “Wandering here and there. Trying to keep things under control.”

      “Have you?”

      “More or less. At least I attend to one thing at a time.”

      Like nothing happened.

      “You must have noticed J. Just unshakable.”

      “Not unshakable, just unshaken.”

      “Come again?”

      “Let him suffer pain, and I promise he’ll be shaken.”

      “Promise?”

      “Without a doubt.”

      “No doubt. That calls for a test.”

      Bird was gone. Slick kept watching.

      J came out onto the porch. He was scratching, like he had hives or something. I thought of fleas again, and rolled in the dust under the hedge. But I made sure Slick didn’t see me there. J was covered with nasty sores.

      Now M, who lived with us in the house, joined J on the porch.

      “You are a mess,” she said. “What have you gotten yourself in to?”

      “Nothing,” J said. “It has nothing to do with anything I’ve done.”

      M was not convinced. She went inside.

      Slick smiled.

      Then company came.

      A bunch of J’s friends heard about his problems and came to call. At first, they all just sat on the porch. They said nothing. They sat there for a week.

      Slick was there the whole time, but Bird was nowhere.

      Then J complained.

      “These damn sores hurt so much I’d rather

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