Zen And the Art Of the Motorcycle Cat

By Jeff Baker

The late afternoon sun was setting and the garage was cool as Joey fished in his toolbox from his position under the parked motorcycle.

From his perch on the seat of the riding mower the cat looked down on the scene a foot or so away.

“Vroom-Man,” the cat said. “You should…”

“Hey,” the man said, not even looking up. “I told you before, my name’s Joey.”

“Well, I think of you as Vroom-Man,” the cat said. “It’s the Harley.”

Joey let out a fart that vibrated his bluejeaned buttocks against the concrete. Okay, maybe the name did fit, Joey thought.

“Anyway,” the cat said. “the first thing you need to do to fix the engine is…”

“Hey! What is this?” Joey asked. “Zen and the Art of the Motorcycle Cat? I know how to do this!” He started tightening a screw. “I been working on bikes since I was in High School…”

“But you’re doing this one the wrong way,” said the cat. “You need to take the…”

“Nobody likes a backseat driver!” Joey said with a grin.

“You should be grateful,” the cat said. “Ginger, Charlie and Fritz next door wouldn’t help their food-guy like this.”

“Ginger, Charlie and Fritz don’t talk to anybody, remember?” Joey said. “And if they did, Mrs. Appelby wouldn’t listen to them.. She’s too busy stocking up on bleach because they told her to on the radio.”

The cat sighed. “Remember when if you heard someone telling you to do crazy things on the radio it meant you were hearing things?”

“Says the talking cat,” Joey said, pressing the cover of the engine back on with a final twist of a screw.

“I mean it,” the cat said. “Do you know how many of those preppy buckets of dried food she has stored in her basement?”

“Probably a lot I’m guessing…” Joey started to say. “Wait…how do you know?”

“Fritzie, Ginger and Charlie may not talk to people but they talk to me,” the cat said. “She has so many that there’s only room for one litterbox in the basement now. Besides, I look in the windows.” He licked a paw. “Nobody cares when a peeping tom actually is a Tom.”

“Thank you for not describing what you see in her bedroom,” Joey said standing up and pushing the toolbox to the side. “Now, let’s see how this works.”

He hopped on the motorcycle and pushed the pedal.

The motorcycle sputtered and made a clunking sound. Then, nothing.

“Told ya,” the cat said hopping to the floor. “Let’s go in and eat.”

—-end—-