“It is not generally known to the public only to professionals in the field such as veterinarians and epidemiologists, experts who study epidemics, tracking their trajectories, this case, animals.”
“Is it possible Vlad was the pet of Count Dracula who one night wanted a snack and didn’t feel like going to the bother of hunting for one?”
“Anything is possible,” he said, moving closer to her, as she was doing so as well.”
He thought she might think that he was getting into her, one step closer to using her as bait for Buttkiss and stealing all of her money or whatever goods she had. Who knew what the un-dead hamster had revealed to her, perhaps, a hidden treasure of centuries-old accumulated wealth and hadn’t Count Dracula owned a castle? Talk about real estate.
“Croak, ribbet,” the frog commented.
He would kill that frog, Kildaredevil swore before he busted the joint.
Forcing himself to lighten up and draw Natasha closer into the trap, he said, “If you are curious, I will show you the registry.
“Sure, I’m game,” she enthusiastically replied.
Prey, he thought. He went to his computer and opened up a file document:
1. those belong to the Emperor
2. embalmed ones
3. trained ones
4. suckling pigs
5. mermaids (or sirens)
6. fabled ones
7. stray dogs
8. those included in this classification
9. innumerable ones
10. those drawn with a very fine camel hair brush
11. those that have just broken the vase
12. those that from afar, look like flies.
She looked askance. “What has this to do with animal genealogy or epidemics?”
“It is an unusual list, I agree.”
“Unusual is an understatement. This is completely bonkers. What make up this craziness?”
“A very famous literary veterinarian and epidemiologist, Jorge Luis Borges. He conceived of all living things as orphans who take absurd names to forget that they are orphans and so can find out the origins of living things by humouring them, taking their odd names seriously.”
“What about epidemics?”
“Being an orphan is an epidemic. As soon as anything is born, it immediately forgets its true parents, the stars.”
She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts. In a strange, magical way, Kildaredevil was revealing something of the child within him that if revealed to the wrong people would make him look childish.
He looked at her closely, even hungrily, she observed. She watched his strong jaw move up and down and felt her entire body shudder with the excitement of being touched by his lean, muscular frame.
She thought about the categories and didn’t know what to think. They hung like low-lying fruit in the Garden of Dreams or perhaps nightmares, grotesque creatures with misshapen heads, and twisted bodies. They were from, a fanciful world, one of whimsy because you do not know really what anything is, much like our world. Any classification system is necessarily arbitrary.
Had he chosen her, from among the many wanna-be Harlequin girls, who would go crazy about his looks, his professional accomplishments and, if having the inside information she had, his even better financial prospects? Then she thought about his name. Did she want to have the name Mrs Kildaredevil? What sort of name is that, anyway?
He gave her a broad toothy smile.
“What do you think?”
