lie here at the tree. Make the headache go away by resting your
eyezzzzzzzzz.
When he finally woke up on Saturday morning, he was back in his bed. He didn’t know how he got there. Christopher was upset that he let a whole night get away. But there was nothing to be done about it. His mother would be with him all Saturday. So, he couldn’t sneak off to the woods. He couldn’t talk to the nice man. He would just have to endure the headache until night came.
Christopher walked downstairs. He went to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out his mother’s bottle of Excedrin. He ate four of the aspirin, crunching them in his teeth like Smarties. The chalky taste was horrible. So, he grabbed the box of Froot Loops. It was a new box. No sugar dust. But when Christopher poured the cereal, a special surprise fell out. It was a little plastic Bad Cat figurine. Christopher laid it on the counter and smiled. A rare moment of joy before the headache started knocking on the door again. He got the milk carton, drowned his cereal, and stared at the picture of Emily Bertovich. He made a mental note to ask the nice man why her picture seemed to change a little every time they bought a new carton.
Christopher put the milk back into the refrigerator and sat down for his Saturday morning cartoons. He remembered when he was younger, he used to turn off the TV and think that when he turned it back on, it would be in the same spot he left it. It took him a while to figure out that Bad Cat and the rest of TV kept going without him. It made him feel sad, but his mom cheered him up and said that he did things, too, and the rest of the world would have to catch up to him.
Christopher turned on the television. It warmed up and started showing his favorite Saturday morning cartoon.
Bad Cat.
Christopher was so happy. The Avengers might be his new favorite movies, but Bad Cat would always be his favorite TV show. He was just in time to see the opening credits. A big parade of all the characters marching down Broadway, singing.
Who’s the one and only-est?
Who’s the never lonely-est?
Who’s the meat and bone-iest?
Bad Cat!
Who’s the whack and snack-iest?
Who’s the catty cattiest?
The “going to finish that?” iest?
Bad Cat!
Bad Cat!
Bad Cat!
Then, Bad Cat ran in front of the parade and screamed, “Are you going to finish that song already? I’m trying to eat!”
Christopher laughed every time because it was simply that funny. He even laughed a little harder this time because he needed to let out some steam from the stress of the week like the whistle on his mom’s teakettle.
The episode began. Christopher was a little disappointed because it was a repeat where Bad Cat steals fish from the butler of a rich lady cat he’s in love with. Christopher had already seen it a dozen times, but it did have one funny part where the butler chases Bad Cat screaming, “Come back here, Gato!” And Bad Cat says, “That’s Mr. Gato to you, Raoul.” So, he sat down to watch the episode anyway.
But this time it was different.
Bad Cat didn’t say those lines. Instead, as Christopher watched, Bad Cat kept looking at the camera. Finally, Bad Cat stopped and looked at the screen.
“Oh…hi, Christopher. Enjoying the show?”
Christopher looked around the empty house. His mother was still asleep upstairs. He was all alone.
“Don’t worry about your mom. It’s just us. Don’t be afraid. How ya doing, buddy?” Bad Cat asked him, all friendly.
“How do you know my name?” Christopher finally whispered.
“Are you kidding? You’re my number one fan. How could I not know your name? I heard that my TV show is your favorite ever. Gosh, that’s so nice. Thank you!” Bad Cat bellowed.
“Shhh. You’ll wake my mom up.”
“Now, that’s just a pile of whiskers. Your mom talked to the sheriff on the phone for a couple of hours last night after you fell asleep. Gosh, he’s super nice. Much better than Jerry, don’t you think?”
The hair stood up on Christopher’s neck.
“How do you know about Jerry?”
“I know everything about you, buddy. I know Jerry is looking for your mother. Gosh, he would hurt her if he ever found her. So, we can’t let that happen, can we?”
“No,” Christopher said.
“Gosh, you’re brave. Your mother raised you well. She must be so proud of you. So, don’t be afraid.