My Dinner with Alden or Cat’s Got Your Tongue: A Study of the 2009 Oscars in 5 Parts

I.

On a cold Saturday afternoon in February I was teetering on the brink of sleep and awake, when my phone rang. Not quite awake, I answered the phone with a jumble of hellos and huhs and whats

“Jim, I need your help,” a voice said. Scratchy. High-pitched. Almost recognizable. Almost.
“Who is this?” I demand.
“Jet”
“What?”
“Jet!”
“Li?”
“No. Alden’s Jet.”
“Oh.”
“I need your help, Jim.”
“But-“
“Damnit Jim. Just listen! We have precious little time!”

I listened intently as Jet explained why he needed my help and what he needed me to do. I was to drive to Jet’s apartment outside of Baltimore in a sleepy little town called Arbutus. Jet said I needed to meet him at his apartment so that a formal plan of action could be made. Maybe it was the drowsiness or the urgency in Jet’s voice, but I never asked him why he needed me. I hung up the phone and hopped in the shower. As I lathered up, my mind wandered to my friend Alden’s wedding. Jet had said that he was Alden’s Jet, but I couldn’t recall meeting anybody named Jet.

I put on my shoes and ran to my van.

As I was sitting in the driver’s seat, it hit me:

Jet was Alden’s cat.

(cue ominous music)

I dialed Alden’s number on my mobile phone and waited for the ringing to stop.

Finally, an answer.

“Alden?”
“Jim…just listen to Jet. Come to Arbutus.”
“What’s going on?” I asked right as I heard the phone being snatched away from Alden.
“Are you listening, Jim?”
It was Jet again. More tense this time. More demanding.
“Yeah, I mean…yeah, Jet. I’m listening. I’m just confused. How am I talking to a cat?”
“Just listen, Jim. Come to Arbutus. I need your help.”
“But…”
“Jim! Don’t be a hero.”
“But…you’re a cat,” but he hung up before I could finish.

I started the car and pulled out of my driveway.

End Part I

Part II tomorrow.