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Portion One

Written By: Ralph Hawk

Some time ago a black cat approached me as I exited my car upon arriving home from work. “What do you want?” I asked. Now of course cats can’t talk, but this one looked at me with an expression which seemed to say “As mayor of this city, will you help me?” I looked at the cat again, and somehow I sensed what it wanted. “You need verification, and documentation don’t you?” I asked. The cat nodded affirmatively. Thus, I put a band around its neck, and stuffed a written treatise in its mouth, and said “Here, I hope this helps you. Now be gone,” I’m a very busy man. And a fate very different from the one which controls the so-called normal existences of such mortals as are perceived as normal is the one which controls mine. I have few moments to myself. But, today on a patio high above many of our city’s buildings, I can see the traffic passing by. And I’m wondering about all the drivers involved in that traffic. Are they concerned about a nation being strangled by leftist viewpoints? And, if they needed to, would they stand tall in defense of the common man and common woman and his and her individualities? Often, when I have the time to speculate about evolutions, the past seems then to be a springtime of mistakes and corrections, and the future an adherence to a solitary track. And my lords provide that track. But though they are my masters, I win or lose all personal battles through my own actions and discretions. And, as mayor of this city, and as a worker in its primary factory, I’m sure you can surmise that I know a lot of people, and count many of them as friends. And that’s great, except of course that that fact subjects me then to numerous parties, get-togethers, weddings, funerals etc.; and my time is already spread thin. For example, last week I needed to take a vacation day from work so that I could attend a friend’s funeral. Apparently he’d been listening to a radio at his home when a song came on which stated that it was cold outside, and this revelation, of the coldness outdoors, evidently scared my friend then to such an extent that he suffered a heart attack. And, as another aside, before I begin to write about the main topic of this piece, I just want to add this while I have the opportunity to do so. Why won’t our Congress fund our wall along our southern border? We apparently can spend billions of dollars on all sorts of projects, but when it comes to allocating the money necessary to keep out foreigners who hate us and bring all sorts of drugs and diseases into our homeland, we can’t seem to find the funds. Well, anyway, as mayor of what surely is the strangest city on Planet Earth, I of course learn of many bizarre developments. And it’s my duty (only one of many) to decide which of these occurrences should be told to the public at large. But, I must confess that this current installment, told to me by a young gentleman from our city, didn’t impress me initially. However, when I had the author of the second part of this posting share his words with me, it was his complaints about an inability to seemingly find any peace of mind in this era of liberalism (tempered by the efforts of America’s president) which convinced me to submit his tale; coupled of course with my realization that I’d actually been a part of its occurrence. And, whether ill-advised or not, I’ve included some of my own introductory remarks to this piece. I really sympathize with all those hard working Americans who daily do the work which keeps our republic functioning, while they’re simultaneously blamed, berated, hated, and crucified by America’s leftist media and political bosses. Margo is a tale in two portions. I, Ralph Hawk, wrote this first portion. And, in this portion I state facts which can be viewed as narcissistic. But, I’m not concerned about that. And, I wouldn’t have time to be concerned about it, even if I wished to be. My perspectives will always be only but my own. And, although others may disapprove of those perspectives, or of me personally, or of what I’ve done, or of what I must continue to do, or of the fact that so long as I remain in the earthly role I now perform, time cannot control me, or of the fact that I function according to the whims of masters who exist and rule outside Earth’s most significant domain, I’ll continue on as I must. I have no alternative. And, in eternity’s annals my epitaph has already been written: Ralph Hawk – factory worker, mayor of a city of the underground, and friend of mortals, deities, and reality overlords.” So, I think this is a somewhat interesting story. It concerns a man’s problems with a stray cat. And, the man agreed to tell the story; and he does so in Portion Two of this disclosure. But he insisted upon anonymity; something I’m reluctant to grant writers in this city. Nevertheless, upon hearing his tale, I felt his fears were justified, especially as they concerned his brief confinement of the cat in his car’s trunk. Who knows what liberals or animal rights activists may say about that!

Portion Two

w/b Anonymous

Last month I had a week of vacation from work, and I decided I’d just spend it at home. I’d be alone, and hopefully I’d be able to achieve some peace and relaxation, two things that have been increasingly difficult to experience in these days of political and media head pounding. But by the end of the second day, I’d given up my hope for such a result. On the first day, in the mid forenoon, it seemed to me that I needed to go to the bathroom. So, I entered that room. But, after being seated for some time on what’s usually referred to as “the working man’s throne”, I realized that I’d not be able to do what I’d entered that room to do; but more importantly, I also remembered that according to many media types, the fault that I’d failed at a bowel movement lay, as do all American problems, personal or public, with the current leaders of The United States. But then, on the second day, I was sitting on the patio behind the house, when suddenly a black cat appeared in front of me. It hissed at me, and when I tried to chase it off, it simply lay down on the pavement, and more or less made itself at home. Again I tried to scare it off, but again it rebuked me with an angry hiss. In my perplexed state, I remembered our city council, with the recommendation of our city’s newly formulated Me Also Commission, had recently appointed Brett Cavendish as city dog catcher, and I thought of ringing him up then to remove the animal from my premises. However, I then thought better of it, and formulated a simpler plan. I went into my garage, and put on the pair of work gloves I keep there. And, I also opened the truck of my car. I went back to the patio then, and with much caution, as the cat was really angry now, and was trying to scratch me, picked the intruding animal up and managed to carry it into the garage where I also managed to deposit it into my car’s trunk, and get it locked inside that trunk without sustaining any injuries from what now was a seriously perplexed animal. I drove off into the countryside then, and after I’d journeyed a few miles, I pulled over on a quiet rural road (the same one spoken of by Joseph Same in “The Same Tapes”), stopped my car, got out, opened the trunk, and tried to get the animal to jump out; but of course it refused to do so. Thus, after I’d again donned the work gloves I’d wisely brought along, I was able to get the cat out of my car and on to the ground in front of me. But it didn’t run away, it just stood there looking at me angrily. Look,” I said. “I can see that for some reason you seem to think that you have a right to become a part of my life. Well, you’re mistaken. But, I’ll make you a deal; come back tomorrow with proof of your identity, and some sort of reason (and God, as an animal who can’t speak, I don’t know how you’ll pull that off) why I should adopt you, and if your evidence is convincing, I’ll give you a new home.” Strangely, those words seemed to satisfy the cat, and it ran off then. The next day I happened to be outside cutting my lawn when you can guess who appeared. The animal had apparently navigated back from the short journey I’d dropped it off on, and actually was carrying a piece of paper in its mouth! I’m going now to write here verbatim what was on that paper, but before I do, let me tell you that on this day I noticed the cat had a band affixed around its neck, something it hadn’t had on the previous day. The cat offered no resistance as I took the paper from its mouth; and on the rubber band around its neck these words were written: I’m Margo The Border Crossing Cat. And here word for word is the declaration that cat brought me that day: “So quickly abused are your words of asylum, spoken in defense of your people here and now. And so quickly misused is the word asylum, offered now by my former owners in defense of foreigners such as themselves who’d gladly end your existence while they expand their own.” “Don’t try to extend a movie beyond its natural or alternate ending. And don’t be tricked by wall attackers, they’ll be long gone before the ultimate damage is done.” “And also, don’t try to live your lives in leagues beyond your capabilities. Don’t hope to successfully comprehend whatever may have led a mind to create or act in fashions deemed mindless by many whose only substantive goal, whether they were aware of it or not, was simply the living out of their mortal existences. Oh, and yes, don’t blame leaders whom you may dislike every time something doesn’t transpire to your liking. Sometimes we need to take responsibility for what we’ve done, and what we still must do. Sometimes we must realize that simply crossing a river won’t end what’s really wrong within lives which simply lack motivation.” End of quote. So, I kept my promise to Margo, and she’s been with me now for about a month. On the first morning that I needed to return to work, I sat her down and explained how she must conduct herself while she’s home alone. And thus far I’ve not had a problem with her being loose while I’m gone. There have been no messes to clean up, and nothing has been broken. She has a large pillow that she lays on for most of her alone time. And as you’ve no doubt surmised by now, I was living alone before Margo moved in. There used to be a woman living here with me, but she left, via divorce, over a year ago. And I’ve always heard that strange and unbelievable events are capable of happening in this city; not that finding a stray cat on one’s property is all that uncommon. Yet, having that animal refuse to leave is somewhat strange I’d think. And having that animal then produce its own identity verification and resume is indeed astounding. But I’ve noticed that Margo likes to sit on the sill of one certain living room window. She likes to look out at the world outside – and especially on rainy days when she can look through the raindrops.

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