The Mewling Moguls

Latigo Flint's relatively trusty sidekick, Kid Relish, can't believe that after who knows how many tens of thousands of movies, spanning nearly a century of motion picture filmmaking, there has never been a movie with a bad guy character who is very wealthy and also a skiing enthusiast, and in order to ski year-round the guy builds himself a ski slope and in the summer he substitutes snow with millions of white kittens.

Outraged by this omission, The Kid recently spent several days crouched near the main entrance of the Writer's Guild building on West Third St. in LA, accosting writers and bludgeoning them with their own man-purses.

"Hey you writer," Kid panted while trying to bludgeon a particularly squirmy one. "Most movies have a bad guy right?"

"Hey what the- Ow!"

"And when you introduce the bad guy character to the audience for the first time you need to somehow convey that he's bad, right?"

"Ow! Stop it! Help!!!"

"Well then, why the hell wouldn't you make the bad guy rich and also a skiing enthusiast and in order to ski in the summertime he covers a hill with millions of live kittens, white ones, and skis on them?"

"Ow! Sweet Jesus. Quit it! Son of a- Ow!"

"You stupid writer. It's so incredibly succinct and elegant. We the audience see this guy swerving his way down a hill of live kittens. Fur and gore spray out in all directions beneath the keen edges of his sharpened Rossingols. Twin red lines track his path down an undulating slope of mewing innocence, and we know instantly that he's bad. This is a bad man. We don't care how cliché and poorly written the hero may be--if he's going to oppose this horrid kitten skier then we're in his corner."

Apparently it went on like this for days. Finally The Kid wore out his bludgeoning arm and had to come home. He's been quiet and morose ever since.

This morning I found Kid Relish sprawled out on the kitchen floor, his big brown eyes wide and troubled.
"I'm haunted Latigo." He whispered. "I've done gone and haunted myself. Half the time I look at people and suspect they routinely ski down a hill of live kittens, and I loathe them for it and want to smash their faces in."
Kid drew a long, shuddering breath.
"The rest of the time I burn and ache with the need to know what it would feel like to ski down a hill of live kittens."

I had no idea how to respond to that. I had to leave. As I walked down the drive I could see that stacked in the alley behind our apartment building were cans and cans of tuna fish, cartons of condensed milk, a large butterfly net and a new pair of skis.

Two thoughts surfaced simultaneously. First: "Why that depraved villain--is Kid Relish really planning what I think he's planning?"

The second thought. (I wonder if that would work?) Well, the second thought deeply shames me.