Pageant Question: Tell me a joke.

It was the fourth time the city inspector had been out, and it was wearing on Joshua's nerves.  Every time the guy showed, there was another repair that needed to be made, urgently, and with a follow-up required.  Joshua had purchased the Victorian mansion at auction, and it had been a mess.  It had been chopped up into seven apartments and was suffering from being uninhabited for three years while in the city's dubious "care".  Replacing windows, plumbing, electric, hot water tank, furnace, and roof had taken Joshua a long time and a lot more money.  He managed to pick up the surrounding lots, emptied of their houses years ago, for only a dollar apiece.  Now he was trying to become self-sufficient and was building himself a rather large garden, complete with chickens.

Mr. Giambro, Joshua hadn't learned the man's first name, paced around the enclosure intended to hold the city's maximum allowed five chickens.  Joshua had built it himself and was rather proud.  He realized it was part of the reason why he felt so annoyed right now; the inspector didn't "ooh" and "ahh" the way his friends did when shown his handiwork.  Mr. Giambro instead made notes and made ticking sounds with his tongue.  Joshua bit his lip and waited.  The inspector looked out of place in the garden, wearing his wrinkled brown suit and vintage 1980s loafers, and pacing off the distance from the house to the enclosure.  He paused, then took out a small measuring tape and circled the enclosure again, making more notes on height, length and width.  Mr. Giambro peered up at the house.  "This is a multi-family?"

Joshua took a breath.  The inspector knew full well he had converted it back into a single.  "No, I..."

"Oh, wait, yes, I see it here."

Joshua felt his jaw muscles straining.

"It appears as if this complies with 341-11 through 341-14.  It will have to be approved by the City Clerk, of course."

"Of course."  Joshua rubbed his face muscles and tried to loosen up.

The inspector walked back over to the enclosure and unlatched one of the doors.  "Do you know why chicken coops have two doors?"

Joshua was surprised by the question.  Was he supposed to prove his knowledge of chicken husbandry?  Now?  He took a gamble.  "No, Mr. Giambro.  I don't know why chicken coops have two doors.  In case of fire?"

"Because," Mr. Giambro latched the door.  "If they had four doors, they'd be chicken sedans."  Joshua's jaw loosened enough to hang open.  "The City Clerk should make a decision within two to three weeks."  The inspector picked his way carefully out of Joshua's yard.  "Have a nice day."

Pageant Question 38: The late Andy Warhol once said that everyone is famous for fifteen minutes. In your opinion, whose fifteen minutes are up?

Most people blamed the internet, but it was more than that.  It was desperation.  Making a viral video became a version of playing the Lottery.  The Lottery was always a tax on the poor who wished for a better life.  Casinos were the same, which is why cities that added casino gambling as a way to boost their economies stayed slums.

I had worked at the Hauden County SPCA since I was a teenager volunteering for a church school credit.  I loved the animals and the work so much, when they offered me a job, I stayed.  I stayed all the way through college and I stayed when I graduated.  I was known as The Cat Girl because I seemed to have a way with the felines.  It was two years ago that I noticed a trend in the people who came looking for cats.  They didn't choose them the way people used to choose their cats, and they didn't "test them out" the way people used to.  I tried to describe it to my coworkers, but it was such a subtle change, and people were adopting, so all was good, right?

The economy, which had been on the upswing, had the floor yanked out from under it by gridlock and anti-regulation, "freedom" lovers.  There was nothing free about what they did for the majority of the world.  It was like a roller-coaster drop and the riders were deeply shaken.  Those running the ride took our money and grinned.  The Lottery and casino revenues were higher than ever.  That's when the first couple came into the SPCA and asked for a, and I quote, "a retarded cat."

"You want what?"

The girl snapped her gum and said, "A retarded cat."  She read the descriptions on the cat cages, but kept her distance.  I looked at the guy she was with, but he was peering intently into the cage with Heifer, a huge black and white shorthair, four years old and rescued after his just as overweight owner died.

"What about this one?" he poked his fingers into the cage.  "It's super fat."

"Fat's okay, but retarded would be better," she crossed her arms and looked at me, waiting.

"May I ask... why?"

She chewed and blinked at me.  "No.  Come on, Shawn.  They don't have any here."

As she dragged him out of the cat room, I heard him whine, "I still say a really stupid dog would work!"

It was a week after that we received a cat from Animal Control that had been exposed to spray paint fumes on purpose.

Pageant Question 23: What is your feeling about the saying, “The grass is always greener on the other side.”

The first death I attended was that of my cat, Iggy.  He was old, but in such great health right up until the end, it didn't seem right that he had to die.  He was clearly unhappy about it, too, but there was nothing left to do but sit by his side.  I was ten, and he was eight years my senior.  I was compelled to keep watch and stroke his back; everyone else was at the Harvest Fair, but I had refused to go.  My step-sisters laughed at me, and I remember it was the first time I applied the word "heartless" to anyone.  I knelt over Iggy as he hissed, drew his last breath, and exhaled gently one final time.  I don't know why I did it, but as he exhaled, I leaned over Iggy's face and breathed in deeply, pulling his last into me.  At that moment, a light flared in my mind, and I saw his soul.  It's the only way I can explain it.  It was not a version of my cat in my imagination, nor was it a ghostly film, but an impression in my mind of Iggy's essence, and I knew that what made him Iggy was forever.  My ability has developed since, and it has been both a blessing and a curse at times, but I will always remember my beautiful furry brother and I will always be proud that he was my first connection to the other side of life.

Pageant Question 13: If you were an animal, what type of animal would you be and why?

My Spirit Animal is a capybara.  No, I'm not Native American, nor did I ever believe in anything New Age, necessarily, but it's true.  I had to look it up, myself, because I always confuse Chupacabra and capybara.  To set it straight for you, too, the Chupacabra is a mythical creature that sucks the blood of goats, and a capybara is a rodent.  Not just any rodent, mind you, but the world's largest rodent.  It looks more like a giant, bristly, groundhog or very short-haired and enormous Guinea pig.

I know a capybara is my Spirit Animal because I dreamed of it.  You might think I would be disappointed that my Spirit Animal is the world's largest rodent, but he was my guide, he kept me safe, and he even spoke, giving me sage advice in a deep, soothing voice.  In my dream, I knelt down and hugged him; his fur was stiff yet yielding.

124

The smell of hyacinth always brought back the memory of her mother, though Clara didn't know that's why she kept remembering her at such odd times. Usually while going for a walk, or occasionally while in the car, her nose out the window. In the spring. It was warm and the smells were fresher and painted clearer pictures. Clara didn't have a clear picture of her mother, or the others in the litter, but she remembered the feelings, and that was enough.

77

She wasn't the same dog, but she was a good dog. In some ways, she was a better dog, but, again, not the same. Finn still expected her dog to bound to the door. She still had trouble calling the new dog by her name and not by his name. She had trouble thinking of her as "her" and not "him".

But the new dog wagged and wagged her non-existent tail. She whined with joy. She came when you called. She leaned on your legs. She would let herself be pet and pet and pet until she fell over. She was a good dog. Finn missed her dog, but she loved this dog, too.

39

Perro: The Ugliest Dog
(A Picture Book)

Perro the dog was sad, but not because he was ugly.

Perro was definitely an ugly dog. He even won the "Ugliest Dog Contest", paws down.

Perro the dog was not sad because people stared at him.

Perro only had fur on the top of his head, the tip of his tail and on his ankles. The patchy fur didn't make him sad, even though there were not many people who liked to pet him.

Perro the dog's tongue hung out of his mouth. It made him thirsty on dry days, but his tongue hanging out was not making him sad.

Perro the dog had short, skinny legs.

Perro the dog had a long, skinny neck.

Perro the dog had a big head with big eyes that looked everywhere but the same place.

These things did not make Perro sad, either.

Perro had a whole rainbow of homemade sweaters to wear on cold days. Being a dog in a sweater, however, didn't make Perro sad.