Year Of The Cat Quotes

Here are some quotes I took from my book, YEAR OF THE CAT. I hope you enjoy them.

*** “The smell doesn’t bother me, merely reminds me of the authenticity of life.” ***

*** I squirmed relentlessly that night in my bed. My thoughts revisiting the girl I saw earlier in the day. She was haunting me profusely. And the heat wasn’t helping me either. After I had enough, I ventured to the patio and sat down in a chair, looking out at the now peaceful evening. Only a few stragglers about here and there. They appeared to be midnight acquaintances, if you know what I mean. (And I think that you do.) This place does have that allure to it, I suppose. Give credit where credit is due. Some places are just like that. You know, romantic in a trashy way. ***

*** “Be careful about vengeance against God, he will smite you with the curse of El ángel negro.” ***

*** The scenes from outside my window rolled by like scattered ink from a faulty pen. The sun was bright. The heat was almost unbearable. The air stung my lungs. I wasn’t used to paradise. I was morbid in my structure and movements. Paradise had always been an illustrated portrait of somebody else’s imagination, not mine. ***

*** “We are all doomed, Yankee detective. One day I will come into work and see myself lying on this slab.” ***

*** And make love we did. Twice! The crashing waves communicated to the passion of the moans we let out in our loving embrace, hiding in plain view of apparitions. Our walk was far from over. The day, like my mind, was over. We made it back to my hotel room where once again, we exchanged our heart felt wishes. I couldn’t get enough of what she had to offer. I was losing my sense of direction, my world spinning radically out of control. I was captivated by her insensitivity. Her sophistication was that of an uninterested monk or a diamond resting at the bottom of a dirty river, hiding underneath the mud. I shuddered relentlessly for the third time that evening, her beneath me, accepting my seed willingly. ***

***  His trickery was beginning to get under my crawl. Then again, what wasn’t in this country? It was always devil this and devil that. Christ, so this is where the devil lives? ***

*** I stood before the armoire in my hotel room. I opened the bottle and began my journey to the netherworld. One sip after another, it didn’t take very long. Soon, my mind was not my own. The room spinning, I thought wise to crawl into the bed. I continued my quest for redemption. Part of that quest was to think about her, whom ever she may be. Jude, Isabella, I couldn’t keep track anymore it would seem. It didn’t really matter; she was everything I ever wanted in a girl, minus the oddity of her personality. Then again, the more I dwelled on it; she was refreshing in a psychopathic kind of way. One thing about her, there didn’t seem to be any drama accompanying the shadows living within. Irrationality? Sure. The folly of her ways facilitated the preemptive nature of my ambitions. And my ambitions were to rape her of the last ounce of pointlessness possessing her. I was sure there had to be some. That whimpering in the corner routine was evidence to that. I concluded that there may have been a time when she wore red ribbons on her arms. ***

*** She waved me off. “Help with what? To help this town deal with its demons? To help me deal with mine? Look at you; you can’t even deal with your own. Yes, yes, I can see your discrepancies through these bloodshot eyes. Everybody sees you with her. You parade around like a couple of clowns, swimming in your lust. Laughing stock, that what you be Yankee American, a laughing stock.” ***

*** We sat in the restaurant at a table in the corner. There were a few people patronizing, but the atmosphere was that of stale decadence and somberness. She picked at her food, eating it with her hands. Every other bite she would feed to me. I couldn’t resist. Tasting the food off of her skin was more arousing than it should have been. I would reach for her wrist when her digits slipped inside my mouth, holding them there, sucking on them, savoring every last morsel she held. Her giggles sending me into a state of euphoria, her attention made me feel like the most meaningful creature on Earth, and feeling more important than any man alive. She is a Spell-binder. How easy it is for her to extort my emotions and manipulate them like a trivial finger-puppet. The abomination of it all is; I don’t think she is even trying to impress me, if anything she seems to do everything imaginable to repel me. Still, I won’t budge from her clutch. How could I? She is gorgeous beyond belief. ***

*** She stepped back, and lifted her dress off in one sweet motion. She tossed it off to the side. “Tonight,” She requested, “you will treat me like a whore.” She came forward and slowly descended to her knees. She undid my pants and removed them from my body, along with my boxers. I tore off my shirt. She took me into her hand, massaging me for a few minutes before taking me into her mouth. She never did this before. In fact, that night, we did everything we never did before. Things I only fantasized about. Things Shelly would never allow me to do to her when we were married. Things unspeakable. Things they do in pornography films. She was my whore. I was her bitch. The night was our Ménage à trois. ***

*** “Every town has its secrets.” He began. “San Felipe is no different. Skeletons are hidden in closets for a reason my friend. And trust me when I tell you, San Felipe has many skeletons. The moral of the story is; don’t go snooping into strange closets. You will only find sins and betrayal. Why do you think we drink tequila so much?” ***

*** I raised the bottle to my lips while sitting on the bed in my room. I can smell deception from a mile away, just like I did in the Emilio incident. Hernando wasn’t fooling anybody, but himself. If he thinks for one minute that I was going to let this slide, he has a rude awakening waiting for him around the bend. I brought the bottle back up. I’ve peppered higher ranking officials in my days with my insidious malcontent when the situation called for it. I’ll pepper his burrito ass just as easily. ***

*** I couldn’t help but recall the words Gomez spoke to me. Lie and live. The truth is death. And why did he agree with Hernando when he said that Emilio chose death? And the warning that Irene issued to me was not extracurricular. She meant it. She was serious. Why she said it and what she meant remained a conundrum. There seems to be, in my estimation, more than just a serial killer on the loose. I have now concluded that surreptitiousness surrounds San Felipe and its people. If I may be so bold, I don’t think I want to know what those underhanded shadows are. I may not have any say in the matter. I’m beginning to think that everything in San Felipe is tied together, like one big knot. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass? ***

*** And then there she is, living in the depths of my unrest. Jude, Isabella, Elsa and Iris. A multitude of scientific research studies rolled up into one person. How many psychologists would love to get their hands on her? And not just for her screwed up mental state either. There would be many men lined up to take the beating she hands out with just a passing, flirtatious smile. A vixen of absolute trouble to the highest level of ominous one can possibly reach. Even her innocence is menacing. And yet, all are willing to sacrifice themselves on her alter of benevolence. Just as I have. ***

*** Our movements were in sync. Her moans traveled lightly in the semi-darkness. Our shadows cast on the walls what our bodies were immolating under the sheets. The smell of her womanhood penetrated my nostrils like a variety of spices in a gourmet dish. Two bodies merging together, melting into one. “Dame gloria.” She passionately cried. While I don’t understand a word of Spanish, for some unknown reason, I understood this remark as if she had spoken it in English. She said, give me glory. ***

*** The following morning, I awoke. The same results as times before. She was gone. I slowly lifted myself out of the bed and gathered up my clothes. One candle remained lit. I have grown accustomed to seeing in the dark, just like her. Just like a cat. I walked outside, the light was hurting my eyes. It took a few moments for them to adjust. When they did, he was there. “The American vampire has surfaced, I see.” It was the painter.

“You get around, don’t you?”

He sat before his easel and canvas, applying the oils in quest of completing my commissioned piece. “What is it you seek this fine morning, wisdom or absolution?” He responded.

“Both.” I mumbled, moving to get a better view of his work. “That’s turning out nicely.” I complimented.

“The seeker of both is a greedy whale. Be careful of the harpoons from the fishermen of Haiti’s.” ***

*** “I know more about you than you do of yourself. You are an empty shell of a man, lingering like the fog in the heart of a cemetery at midnight with bats swarming all around and hiding from the sunlight of redemption and truth.” ***

*** She stepped away and threw her head back. “Yes, yes, Mr. American Yankee, take me with you. Take me with you to the land of reality television and a fucked up democracy where your politicians argue and fight more than the Federales and drug cartels. Yes,” She continued to layer, “take me to where the economy is dropping faster than a cheap whore in an orgy full of sailors.” ***

*** Where was she taking this? What road was she leading me down? The impeachment of her hypocrisy eats at every fiber of my being. I couldn’t take it any longer. I just couldn’t. “I can think for myself. And after tomorrow, this relationship is over.” I walked to the side of the balcony, fixating my sights back down at the people below. “You are welcomed to join me if you so desire.”
“What I desire,” She made no bones about it, floating up behind me and again, wrapping me in her arms, “is your body on top of mine, where I can dictate this conversation.” ***