Talk to a drunken Volunteer: Elvis and the Little Cat Story
“So it’s right after a bank day right, so I’ve got a pocket of money. And no one is waiting for me in my site so I stop over in Maubisi and I go over to see Betty and I’m like, want some whiskey? Not like I had to twist her arm. So I pour some myself this big glass and sit down, it’s evening so I can crash on the floor.
Well Betty has this little cat. It’s half grown cute, like cats are, and it’s jumping around and goes out the window. I’m about to enjoy this drink, my first, and we hear this barking and a hiss. Betty jumps up and runs out and I chase her but my hand ain’t letting go of this drink. I got no shirt on and my hairs all messed up cause I was in the back of a truck and I’m chasing this girl. We were drawing attention is what I’m saying.
Betty sees these two dogs, ones big and the others skinny but they’re nipping at this little cat. It’s cornered and hissing and their like, nipping at it. Well Betty starts to shout, “Save my kitty! Save my kitty!”
Well how many times does a girl ask a man to be a man anymore? Save my kitty, that’s hero stuff is what it is. So there’s no way I’m gonna let these two big dogs get hold of that little cat. So what I’m gonna do is run over there and kick that big dog as hard as I can and then the skinny ones gonna run away. Then I’m gonna get that little cat and come back get me some gratitude. That’s my plan.
So I get up a good run behind that dog and I go to kick him while he’s turning around and I shut my eyes cause I don’t want to see it. It’s a beautiful kick I feel it connect. I open my eyes and the two dogs are still there but that little cat is flying away like someone hit it with a truck. I kicked the shit outta that little cat. It landed about twenty feet away. And the dogs is looking; at me like I’m crazy and I’m yelling cause I don’t want to get bit. I’m panting too because, you know, I’m a smoker and I just ran from the damn house and, kickin’ cats, it’s exciting and all. So I’m trying to make a stand but I’m not making sense. I’m like, “You leave…Don’t you…. Little… DOG!”
The big dog is looking at me like, “Man, we were just playing you’re the one who kicked the shit outta that little cat.” But the skinny one is snarling and he’s hunched over real low but I’m on him. I rear back to kick, shut my eyes, and WHOOF! I’m on my back. I plain missed, tipped my damn self over. And the only smart thing about me is my hand with the whiskey. It’s gone all independent cause it’s like, “This is twenty dollar whiskey and I will not let you spill it!” It’s working out equations and shit, counter balancing my shit. So I’m on my back but I still got this full glass.
And I guess the entire Timorese population of Betty’s site is watching now. They’re eating pop corn. One of them is selling t-shirts that say , “Crazy white guy eaten by dogs!” they’re taking bets. “Twenty on the dogs!”, all that. The big dog, he takes his chance cause I’m smaller on the ground.
And it’s coming at me and I’m having this fight with my hand for who’s in charge. The dog gets close and I toss this whiskey in its face! And it’s like, “Hey this is some good shi-ahhh my eyes!!” and it starts to yip and runs off and I’m up on my knees now panting. And I’m yelling at the skinny dog. “You . . . Want. . . DOG!” I chuck this rock at it and I miss. And it’s just staring at me, then it gets up and walks away.
Well I get on my feet and dust myself off, and I’m looking for Betty, cause, hey, gratitude, right? And she’s starin’ at me like everybody is. And then she just walks away. Gone in to the house after all I did. Little cat won’t come near me anymore either. It don’t pay to help people now a days.”