I walked up Shannon’s driveway, expecting the worst. Her call was terse (as she usually is), saying only that she had a problem, and to bring the cat. That was a bad sign.
I looked down at my faithful companion, calmly pacing along beside me. “Any idea what this is about?” I asked.
“None at all,” He replied, in his usual bass rumble. He may have been an ordinary-looking grey housecat, but he sounded like an angry 6’ 7” prison inmate. Only more violent.
I nodded to the guards flanking Shannon’s front door, who ignored me. However, they saluted my cat, and said, “Welcome back, sir.”
“Your courtesy is appreciated. Stand at ease.” He replied, looking smug.
As the guards ushered us in, I asked, “Why aren’t you guys that nice to me?”
One of them smirked. The other said, “You haven’t killed nearly as many people as he has.” The cat purred briefly.
As we walked into Shannon’s living room, the cat and I got the first of several surprises. First of all, a young black Labrador came bounding over, barking. He may be a nearly unstoppable furry ball of claws and hate, but my cat was still a cat, and he reacted just as you’d expect: by puffing up and hissing furiously. By the way, the hiss translated as “PREPARE TO DIE, vile hellspawn!”
Shannon came running over. “No, no, Cash! Bad dog! Kitty, don’t kill him!”
The dog backed off, confused. “New friend doesn’t want to play?”
I asked Shannon, “How can he talk?”
“Shut up! If you don’t say anything maybe your readers won’t notice. Cash, this is Kitty. Do what he says and don’t play with him, ok?”
“Yes, mommy.” His voice sounded like a 10 year old kid. He was a really cute dog, and looked cheerful and happy. The cat looked at him with disgust.
“Kitty, take the dog upstairs and play nice with him. Lucas and I have something to talk about.” Shannon was in full I-am-the-boss-so-don’t-fuck-with-me mode.
The cat grumbled, but did as she said. The dog followed, looking cheerful. Shannon said, grumpily, “Follow me.”
We walked into the next room, where I got another surprise. Standing, Sitting, Leaning casually against the wall, what have you; the room was full of pretty blonde women. I grinned happily. Now this was more like it!
Shannon shattered my happy illusions by saying, “Lucas, meet…..Shannon.” a wide sweep of her arm indicated the entire room.
I stopped smiling. “Uh?” I asked.
“They’re all named Shannon. And they’re all pissed at you for putting them in you blog without permission. Well, not that one over there—“ she pointed to an extra-pretty Shannon, sitting on the couch, surrounded by what appeared to be an entourage. “—that one likes publicity. She just wanted to meet you.”
I stood there, utterly at a loss. “Well what do they want me to do about it?”
Shannon said, “Stop using them in your blog.”
I’ve never pretended to be good with people. For me, a good week involves never leaving the house and not speaking to another living creature besides my cat. But I had to deal with this as best I could. I thought for a moment about what to say. This was clearly a complicated issue. Taking all possible points of view into account, I faced the roomful of Shannons and said, “No. Fuck off.”
I can only recall bits and pieces of the riot which followed. Everything was a blur of blonde hair, high heels, and VERY shapely legs. Fortunately, the Shannon who invited me and who actually knew me thought it was hilarious. Even more fortunately, she was a mob boss with a large personal security contingent. After she finished laughing she rescued me from the herd.
Shannon the mob boss (hereafter referred to as Shannon Alpha) and the other Shannon (hereafter referred to as Shannon India) were much more reasonable. Shannon India, as the name suggests, was a HUGE celebrity in India. Singing, Dancing, speaking Hindi, acting in rape scenes, she did it all. All she wanted was a disclaimer from me to make it clear to her fans she wasn’t involved in this blog. I therefore and forthwith present the disclaimer below.
I herefore and forewith ipso facto solemly and with gusto swear that this blog is the sole creation of myself. Characters in this blog are totally not fictional and completely real. Events depicted in this blog are completely 100% factual and are in no way the product of a diseased mind hopped up on caffeine and horse steroids. Any resemblance to any persons, places, animals, events, deities, alternate dimensions, psychic visions, drug-induced hallucinations, or sexual fantasies is totally not on purpose and probably just a figment of your imagination. FURTHERMORE, this blog in no way represents the true plans and agenda of Microsoft Corporation, and any discussion of “world domination” or “summoning the Elder Gods to earth to reign for a million years” is a fabrication and has absolutely no relevance to Microsoft’s actual plans, which involve the Elder Gods reigning for a BILLION years, not a million. AND EVEN FURTHERMORE AND STUFF, the character of “Shannon India” is not intended to represent the real-life film star Shannon Pumpersnatcher, currently residing at 101 E. Horndog Rd. , Los Angeles, CA 78654. Any suggestion that Shannon India is in fact Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose phone number is (919)213-9066, is completely ridiculous. This blog has no connection to Shannon Pumpersnatcher, whose email is email@example.com with password “sekrit”.