I add to the cast of char's in this chpt.; Lola Bunny from Space Jam and Sawyer from Cats Don't Dance. Will explain in the author's notes at the close.
Wilford
chpt. 4
in the cold light of day
Unlike Wilford B. Wolf, Minerva Mink slept until late afternoon following the comedy of errors of their night together, apart, together…etc.
It had been a good sleep, and not one minute too long. Last night had been quite an escapade.
She smiled sweetly to herself and stretched dreamily. Speaking of dreams…a face had appeared over and over in her dreams. It was wolf's face, noble and confident, with a gleam in his eye and a striking smile.
There were more than a dozen messages on her telephone answering machine. It was the usual; Lawrence and Mau Mau and Trudy. She listened to them all while gazing dreamily outside her window at the sky over the lake, before erasing them.
One caught her ear; from Sawyer Somali.
"Girlfriend! I was shopping on Rodeo Drive, and I ran into Lola! It's been forever since we got together! We have got to have a night out…just the three of us!"
It took her back; Sawyer, Lola, and Minerva; three unlikely friends; a struggling actress, a rookie athlete, and a would-be…
Minerva was taken aback for a moment; what was she? A 'working girl'? A professional escort, accused by her detractors of plying the world's oldest profession? A gold-digger?
For a brief moment, Minerva Mink acknowledged to herself what she was, without self-rationalization or false remorse. She was a young woman endowed with moderate talent, minimal ambition, and massive sensual appeal; a young woman who passed the time doing temp jobs, waiting for either a sugar daddy or her ship to come in.
But Sawyer Somali and Lola Bunny were of a different mettle. They had known what they wanted to be since they could walk. Sawyer was about entertainment, especially singing and dancing. Lola was about sports, specifically basketball. The three had met while doing temp work for the Farley Wink Casting Agency. Despite the diverse background and interests, there was an instant rapport. Maybe it was because of a shared understanding of allure's double edge.
Sexuality was like a big inheritance. It could be used for both good and bad. It could be spent and misspent. It brought creatures out from tunnels and under rocks. A girl with good looks was always desirable. People would mess with her head so they could mess with her body.
Lola had found her big break in women's pro basketball. And was dating Bugs. Sawyer had found her big break in performing; when not on the road with her singing and dancing act, she was in a movie. And she was dating Danny.
Minerva sighed. She missed her two best friends. She knew what professional sports and entertainment did to relationships, and she hoped that her two best buds would be spared the heartbreak that seemed to dog Minerva's path in life. Bugs could be something of a sly rogue, and Danny was as fresh off the farm as the produce at Farmers' Market.
Actually, Minerva had often compared notes with Bugs on eluding pursuers. She had used on her perennial pursuer, Newt, the red-nosed Prussian Pointer Dachshund, the same tricks that Bugs had used on his two perennial pursuers, Elmer Fudd and Yosemite Sam. She had to admire his talent. He was a natural mimic, who, were he less scrupulous, could've been a slick hustler. Bugs' saving grace was that he was happiest at getting through life with enough effort to keep his stash of carrots stocked.
Minerva had found that she could exercise her sensual influence on Bugs, had she wanted to. But that brought up a whole complicated set of issues Minks were predators on the food chain, and rabbits were prey. Interspecies friendship was one thing; interspecies dating was a whole 'nother set of circumstances. And Minerva would never forgive herself had she two-timed her good friend Lola. Not to mention that Lola was not just another timid rabbit. She had a way of planting her foot on somebody's buttocks that could leave a permanent imprint.
And Danny…Danny was head over heels for Sawyer. He had eyes only for her, and was for all intents and purposes untouchable.
Bugs and Danny; they were both decent guys. Unpretentious. What you saw was what you got. Kinda like Wilford, in a way…
Minerva shook her head. No, no, no. So not going there.
It somehow seemed significant…Sawyer calling on the day after the whole Wilford wackiness. Lola and Sawyer were far better friends than the Trudy-and-Shirley crowd. Maybe the universe was sending
Minerva a message.
She had to check the mailbox. On opening her door to glance outside, she was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her porch. It was the handful of daisies Wilford had brought her a day ago. How did they get here? Obviously, he had been back, gathered them up, and left them there for her to find.
Her heart melted, and she sighed. But then her brain shouted frantic warnings. What if he were still around? She cast anxious glances around on the way to her mailbox. She was dressed in her customary robe. Instead of letting it slip off her shoulders, as was customary, she nervously gathered it up around her neck. Her heart shushed her brain. Wilford could be a nuisance, but he was not a stalker.
Nothing to deal with in the mailbox, thankfully. Just some third-class mass mailing flyers. Minerva dealt with them the way she dealt with most of her voicemail. The flyers hit the 'circular file' waste basket and the voicemail got deleted.
She grabbed a quick late-afternoon breakfast. She munched a slice of dry toast and chugged a small glass of orange juice, and another small glass of skim milk. She scanned her shelves for something for supper; the possibilities were distressingly slim; in her cupboard were cans of instant soup and baked beans; she grimaced; in the fridge were the half-gallons of OJ and milk, a Tupperware container of leftover casserole, and a takeout container of Chinese something…good heavens! was that the moo goo gai pan that Newt had dug his way to Beijing to get for her? That was forever ago! She wrinkled her nose in distaste; that would go in the compost pile.
In the freezer were two likely choices; a frozen package of sliced lean deli cold cuts and a gallon tub of Neapolitan ice cream. She could defrost the cold cuts and scarf them all…
Like Lola and Sawyer, Minerva worked hard to keep her figure, but unlike Lola and Sawyer, she was not handy in the kitchen…and they were lean cuts…and minks were meat eaters…
…Or she could go on a comfort food binge and scarf most of the ice cream. She sighed; comfort food binges were best shared with friends; she would have loved to have Lola and Sawyer over; they could watch old tearjerker movies, call out for pizza, empty the gallon tub of ice cream…and she could pick the brains of her best buds about how to deal with a changeling creature as a potential boyfriend.
Minerva had to get out of the house. She brushed out her hair, got out of her robe, and dressed in her pastel yellow off-the-shoulder sundress and big floppy hat. She took her usually leisurely walk to the edge of the lake. As on the day before, she sat down on her accustomed rock, retrieved her small diary from the spot where she tucked it in her big fluffy tail, and obtained its key from the place where she kept it, in the cleavage of her bosom. She was glad not to meet any other animals. Somehow the usual routine of the males of every vertebrate species going into hysterics at the sight of her, and the females walloping them…it lost its charm. She just wanted to be alone.
She reviewed yesterday's entry, with some ironic reflection.
Dear Diary,
Another lonely day is drawing to a close, and I have not yet found that…Special Someone. It seems to very unfair that I have no one to share life's tenderest moments; someone warm and kind; with really rich parents.
Oh, well; tomorrow is another day.
Your faithful servant,
Minerva Mink
But that was before sunset; yesterday's "lonely day' might have been drawing to a close, but last night's madcap mayhem was only beginning to 'dawn'.
She set pencil to page
Dear Diary,
…And she hesitated. How could she adequately summarize last night's events?
I met…
Who did she meet? Someone she already knew? Someone she had no idea existed? Someone who had a whole side to him she managed to overlook?
Her honest self clamored loudly. Did she really want the Someone Special with whom to share life's tenderest moments, someone warm and kind? Or did she want someone with a godlike physique, gorgeous hair, gallant deportment, and 'really rich parents'?
Was she shallow? Opportunistic? Even devious? Was she immature for wanting the whole package? A Prince Charming who would sweep her off her feet?
Life hardly offered package deals; not without compromising one's principles. It came down to what could she live without, or not live without.
A slow dry raspy voice caught her attention. "Minerva?"
Startled, she looked around. It was the turtle who lived at that part of the shoreline. It had come up from the shallows.
Minerva stammered. "Oh…hi. I was just out…I hope you don't mind…I come here to think…" She felt apologetic, as though she were intruding.
The turtle shrugged. "It's okay, dearie. We know you aren't one of the usual predators. You aren't into eating any of the reptiles or amphibians. You just drive the menfolk into a hormonal frenzy," it said, somewhat ironically, in a distinct East Coast twang.
Minerva sighed helplessly. "I'm…I'm sorry about that. I'm not out to steal anybody's husband. Honest."
"We know. Hey…can we talk?"
Minerva nodded.
The turtle paddled over to the shoreline. "My name's Shelly," it said, offering it's right foreleg.
Minerva 'shook hands' with it. "Pleased to meet you…Shelly."
The turtle shrugged. "Hey…call me Shel for short. My mother…God rest 'er…named me. Thought it was cute…like 'turtle shell'. Go figure."
Minerva smiled in spite of herself. Shel had a definite Jersey drawl and seemed very informal. Then she recalled seeing Shel before. "Say…didn't I see you last night?"
Shel smiled smugly. "Did you ever. You stuck your head underwater looking for Mister Right. Nearly startled me outa my shell…pardon the pun."
Minerva blushed. "Ohmygosh…I'm so sorry about that." She sighed. "I went a little crazy last night."
Shel laughed. "A little crazy? Honey…housecats on catnip are saner than you were last night!"
Minerva bristled irately. She didn't know whether to be put off or embarrassed at Shel's casual bluntness. And the turtle's Jersey accent reminded uncomfortably of Mar Mau, with whom the mink once had an ill-advised fling. "Catnip? Really?"
With a nonchalant swipe of her foreleg, Shel casually dismissed the whole thing. "Meh…don't worry about it, kid. We all act kinda crazy around the springtime. The birds an' the bees…like that."
Minerva resisted the urge to be curt herself. At least Shel didn't make "birds" sound like "boids".
To get past this uncomfortable stretch in the conversation, she asked, "So…Shel…what was it you wanted to talk about?"
"Listen…the squirrels, birds, and frogs discuss stuff around here. And some of that discussion is about…you."
Minerva was more than slightly ruffled again. "Oh? Is that a fact?" she asked, sounding miffed.
Shel laughed; a deep raspy chuckle.
Minerva was surprised at how deep a sound could issue from such a small animal.
"I should apologize myself, Minerva," said Shel. She gave a sideways glance at the mink. "I don't suppose you like to be called 'Minnie'."
And Minerva began to glower.
Shel shrugged. "I thought not. Sounds too much like the Mouse…y'know…acts all prim and strait-laced…with the boyfriend Mouse…hangs out with the other 'Toon Crowd."
Minerva began to giggle nervously. She didn't know whether to be offended or not. Whatever other faults the turtle had, Shel was direct and to the point. The mink could respect that; most people either beat around the bush or went out of their way to be hurtful.
Shel glanced sideways again. "Laughter…laughter's a good thing…I used to love to hear my Shel laugh…he told me I had a gift for making him laugh…it did my soul good to hear him laugh…have I mentioned my husband was named 'Shel' too? Short for 'Sheldon'. Imagine that. I fell for a guy with the same name as me. Go figure." A tear trickled down Shel's leathery cheek. "Gosh, Minerva…I miss 'im…the big lug…he 'n' I lived to celebrate our centennial anniversary. We raised a lotta hatchlings together, him 'n' me. But I digress. My husband and my mother…God rest 'em both…they both used to tell me, 'Shel…you're too blunt for your own good…turtles were meant to be more cautious…that's why
God gave us shells…' "
Minerva had to cup her palm over her mouth so as not to laugh too loud. Shel switched channels like an impatient kid with a TV remote. Turtles were supposed to be slow of speech and thought, but Shel just gabbled on and on. It was both embarrassing and refreshing, this much candor.
"…But lemme cut to the chase. My point is this, Minerva. You can't help how men go crazy over you. And you can't help how you go crazy over some guys. Now I saw how you threw yourself at Vinnie. And he dropped you like a bad habit. Now, Wilford, he's crazy for you…and you're crazy for him…at least when there's a full moon. Not a lotta people knew his secret. It speaks well for him that he was able to keep it under wraps for this long. You had a wild night last night…and now you're confused. Is Wilford the guy for you…or isn't he? If you go after him, is it 'cause you only like him during a full moon? You're askin' yourself if you're a hypocrite."
Minerva sighed. "Is it that obvious, Shel?"
"Like a bright red cardinal sittin' on a snow bank. Listen, hon…we all got shells. Shells are a way of protecting ourselves. Shells are also a way of hiding what we don't want people to see. It cuts two ways. Now you want someone who will take care of you. There's nothin' hypocritical about that. We reptiles can get by on the single-partner-single-parent thing…heck, sometimes we abandon our own young. But you mammals…you need each other. Now I'm here to tell you that Wilford is a good man, like my Sheldon, God rest 'im, was a good man. But only you can decide if he's good for you. And the only way to do that is to come out of your shell."
Minerva was aware of many different feelings inside her, and many different responses struggling to get out. She still vaguely resented Shel's unsolicited and unabashed advise; it felt like the turtle was too…pushy. It was like having an interfering know-it-all relative, of the maiden-aunt variety. She resented the turtle for being too empathetic. It felt like a nosy know-it-all neighbor eavesdropping. And she resented herself for being too…transparent. She had always prided herself on being hard-to-read; her survival of all the stalkers, suitors, and predators depended on them not being able to second-guess her.
But at the same time, it felt reassuring to have someone who wasn't angling for favors; someone who still believed in happily-ever-after; someone who had made it work; someone who could articulate all the issues without Minerva having to embarrass herself by indulging in a long overwrought confession. And…the mink acknowledged…it was also a case of loneliness. She was used to resentment and jealousy from everyone else. But she would never be comfortable with it. She was vain, but she wasn't too proud to admit to herself that when it came down to brass tacks, being a 'gorgeous mink' really did suck sometimes. Only someone egotistical could be comfortable with others' envy, resentment, and jealousy. And the way Minerva saw it, egotists deserved the inevitable life of loneliness and misery that egotism always seemed to result in.
So the mink did a rare thing; she let her guard down…which was not easy; minks are solitary by nature.
"Truth or dare, Shel. I'm looking forward to my date with Wilford, in another…" She thought a moment. "…Twenty-seven days. And I'm dreading it, too. What if we really hit it off? Or really don't hit it off? It's like the best of both worlds…a really fantastic guy who's guaranteed to show up once a month…just often enough for me to miss him, and not too much of a good thing…neither of us can get too possessive…and for that one night a month, he's all mine…the competition is almost nil…'cause what girl in her right mind is gonna go after a fella who's a geek for four weeks in a row and then becomes a really hot hunk of a man for one night…" She trailed off. "Am I sounding shallow, Shel? Like I'm just hunting for a meal ticket? Should I even let this thing get off the ground?
The turtle pondered. "Yeah. I see where you're comin' from. It's quite a plight." And pondered some more. "So…here's ol' Shel's advice. Yeah. Go for it. Let 'im wine and dine you, if he wants to. And if it doesn't work out…hey, at least you two had a good time, and hopefully, you remain friends. Wilford, he's not a backstabber. An' you don't sound shallow…any more than anyone else. Hey…we're all makin' our way through life. We're lookin' for that Someone Special. There's only one sure thing for everybody ever born…we all take the Dirt Nap. Like my Shel used to say: from dust we come and unto dust we return. It behooves us all to treat each other decently. Know what I mean?"
The mink laughed. Such an eclectic mishmash of advice. But there was sound and practical wisdom in it, too. "Yes, Shel. I know what you mean."
"So…hey…I gotta go hit the water and the muck…a turtle's moisturizer treatment, don'tcha know? More dry skin I do not need…not at my age. Enjoyed talkin' with ya, kid. Best of luck in the romance department. Look me up. We gotta do this again."
"I'll do that, Shel. And thanks."
And with a plunk, Shel submerged.
Minerva chuckled to herself. Who would've thought? Out of all the denizens of the local woods, those who hunted her, hounded her, hankered after her, and hated her, there were two who cared; a geeky werewolf and a gabby turtle. Like Shel said, she would be sensible; she would enjoy the ride while it lasted; she would try to not let her heart get too involved…
She gazed down absently at her diary. To her shock, she discovered she had unconsciously written the name Wilford over and over, in caps, in small case letters, italicized, big swirly letters, every way imaginable, and surrounded the names with drawings of hearts and flowers.
She gasped. Her romantic self was breaking rank with her sensible self. She gulped. She wanted to erase the evidence of her traitorous emotions. Instead, she glanced around guiltily, to see if any birds or other animals might have read the diary over her shoulder. She hastily snapped the little book shut without even bothering to sign the daily entry with the customary Your faithful servant, / Minerva Mink.
She tucked the book back into her tail and the key back into her bosom. She stole furtively back to her house, anxious lest any should somehow look into her heart and see there a raging conflict.
She had a single cold cut for supper. She spooned a big bowl of ice cream for dessert. And grimaced at the first spoonful. She put the bowl in the freezer. What she was hungry for wasn't food. And the day had been full of food for thought.
What Shel told her put it all into perspective:
"...we know you aren't one of the usual predators...you aren't into eating any of the reptiles or amphibians...you just drive the menfolk into a hormonal frenzy...you can't help how men go crazy over you...and you can't help how you go crazy over some guys…"
Maybe she was a predator, in a symbolic way. Maybe she could help it, with a little effort. She sensed that she was at some kind of crossroads. Maybe it was time to try a change of direction. She didn't have to go off the deep end…like behaving like some dumpy old housewife with a dozen kids…or becoming a nun…
The mental image of herself in a nun's habit startled her for a moment; and made her laugh. But it sort of naturally of led to a next step…
Minerva leaned with her elbows at her window sill, gazing at the waning moon reflected in the still waters of the lake. She sighed. If only Wilford's lycanthropic effect lasted for the almost-full moon.
She came to a realization. What Lola and Sawyer and Shel had…Minerva wanted it too. An intangible richness, the kind of fulfillment that people who had didn't seem to care about material wealth.
In a way, she had already taken the next step by committing herself to waiting for the next twenty-something days. It was like taking a guy's class ring in high school. She had taken herself off the market. She was no longer for sale to the highest bidder.
And she did a thing…maybe for the first time in years…maybe in her life. She folded her hands.
"Now I lay me down to sleep…dear God…or Good Fairy…or Wishing Star…I don't mean to bother You…or get You mixed up with…y' know…the wrong, erm, Personage…You know who You are…"
She giggled nervously.
"…I'm so outa practice with this…see…the thing is…I think I want to sort of step out of my safety zone. I've been what they call a working girl…well…You knew that…and I'm not proud of it…I can't look my friends in the eye.
"Shel says You give us shells to keep us safe…well, I want to come out of mine.
"For me, this is a really big step. And I don't want to do anything too stupid, or break through any thin ice. I really need You to, Y'know, give me a nudge…when to do the right thing…when not to do the wrong thing…that kinda thing.
"That's all, I guess. Please take care of the people I care about. And take care of Wilford…both sides of 'im. Thanks for Your time. Amen."
She got her diary out. She knew what to write now.
Dear Diary,
I met someone I thought I knew; he's not the same wolf he was; it's Wilford.
It's only been a day; and something has changed. I'm not the same mink I was. That's Wilford, too.
And that's scary.
She fell asleep, still gazing at the moonbeam glimmer, with the remembered feel of strong arms embracing her waist, the remembered taste of a hot kiss on her lips, and the remembered sound of a dorky voice in her ear, singing a song…
"Be my love / My turtle dove / The pretty little mink / I'm dreaming of…"
to be continued
A / N
This chpt originally included only the scene with Minerva writing Wilford's name in swirly letters. But, hey; my stories snowball something fierce; that's part of why I'm Glacially Slow.
About Minerva's best buds, Lola Bunny and Sawyer; assorted fanart at DeviantArt associates Minerva Mink with Lola Bunny of Space Jam and Sawyer the cat from Cats Don't Dance. And that grouping just seemed to click, like Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. And as mentioned earlier, Marilyn Monroe is the inspiration for Minerva Mink. And since they're all Warner Bros. char's it's like it's still in the family.
About Sawyer's last name; I know Warner Bros. characters have just generic species last names, even in Cats Don't Dance, but Sawyer and Danny are already so individualized, what with their first names, I just decided to personalize their last names by using the names of cat breeds…yes, I picked out a last name for Danny, too.
Sawyer's employer, Farley Wink, the casting and talent agent, refers to needing a Tabby for a movie role.
Danny is a classic orange Tabby; even though pure orange Tabbies don't exist, the name is as obvious as can be.
Sawyer is a longhair with a fluffy tail (a trait she shares with Minerva.) The Persian is the classic longhair breed, but the name doesn't sound "American" enough. So color me parochial as well as compulsive; but 1930's Hollywood, the movie's setting, is as American a milieu as you're going to find.
There is a longhair American breed called the Somali. An African nation for a last name? Isn't that contradictory after all the reasons for not choosing 'Persian' for a last name? I run the names through my subjective mental scan. "Sawyer Persian". "Sawyer Somali". The latter name 'works' for me. Cat fanciers will recognize the association.
About Shelly Turtle; a generic turtle appears ever so briefly in Moon Over Minerva when she dunks her head underwater looking for 'Mr. Right'. Startled, the turtle ducks for cover. I started thinking of stereotypes I had seen portrayed in countless TV shows and movies, the women with the strong ethnic accent who gather together to trade gossip and bemoan their common lot; their kids don't visit, their aches and pains, etc; something with the blend of a Jewish mother and clichéd East Coast dweller.
Since cartoons are acceptable media for portraying stereotypes, like Minerva as the buxom sexpot, and Wilford as the bespectacled nerd, I figured it would be okay. I think Bugs Bunny's 'Joisy' accent made me think of East Coast. And I wanted the portrayal to be positive and hopefully a little humorous. And Shelly is what came out.
About Minerva's little 'prayer'; I know I'm a Born Again Bible Thumper, as stated in my FF-dot-net profile, and this tale is about both Minerva and Wilford maturing in their characters and outlook, but I wanted to keep it light, not loaded with religious and philosophical references like some of my other stories.
It's been several twenty-eight day periods since I started uploading this tale. Lord willing, I can shorten that. Vaya con Dios to my readers.