The other day my cat Carl got electrocuted and started to talk. He was always incredibly into sockets and he'd, like, stick his nose right into them every time I plugged something in. I warned him. But the way it lays is, maybe I didn't need to warn him after all.

I guess you know how there's always that old story of how curiousity killed the cat? Well, I guess this is maybe the story

of how it didn't.

I'll tell you, I don't remember exactly what happened.

I was just messing around on my guitar one day tooling around on that dork love song for Trudy that just wouldn't happen, and -- BLAM!!-- there's this, like, major, major glow from the amp, this major, like, rocket blast of white and maybe some green and some really cool blue coming from behind the chair. That's where Carl and the socket were at.

So, this glow happened, then this kind of Hmmmmmm happened, and then there was this BZZZZZZ!!!! ...and I hear this very intense, Mee -YOWWW!!! and then -- wham! -- blackout.

No, not me -- the light show. Over and out. Pitch black and dead quiet for a couple of seconds, and then -- the lights just flip back on and the refrigerator's just humming away like nothing ever happened, except my heart was practically beating out of my whole body.

And before I get a chance to ask if he's okay, Carl walks out from behind the chair, and he's, like, dazed. And he's walking like he's loaded, leaning all to one side. Well, I don't know what comes over me, but something about how he's walking, starts me laughing, I guess I was still freaked -- and Carl, like, clamps his big old green eyes right on me like he's really pissed off, only him turning to look at me so fast and furious knocked him right over, which completely surprised the hell out him. Then I really laughed and kept on laughing for I don't know how long, but it felt like about an hour, but it wasn't. Then, I just remember we just sort of got on with the night, and I watched some Letterman and then The Blob and then I sacked out. Carl mainly just drank a lot of water and mostly stayed sacked out.

So, the next morning, Carl's just, you know, this cat like he always is. Hanging out, sleeping, staring out windows, licking himself, nothing to write home about. Well, I mean, he's still walking a just little bit wacked, but I figured he had some pretty major voltage happen to him so what could you expect. He was shaking it just fine. I just just kept refilling his sock with catnip -- I figured maybe he'd get a buzz on and get past it.

So, I'm in the kitchen, right, having a baloney sandwich, staring out the window, thinking about giving up on the non-event song for Trudy -- (Trudy and me had been completely non for about two years anyway, but I just really dug the tune) -- when Carl walks in like he's got something on his mind and he comes up on the table. I'm already impressed 'cause it's a direct floor to table jump and he usually takes the chair up. So, you know, I could tell he'd recovered.

Boy, did he ever.

So, first, you know, he sniffs at the baloney, and then he looks kind of depressed or something and then he yawns and he stretches and curls up on my copy of Spin and he looks like he's going to sleep, when, suddenly, out of nowhere he goes,

"Oh, Jonas, it would be fantastic if you got us some sushi."

I'm like -- WHAT?!?!?!?!??!????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!???????????!

But I don't say that, 'cause I probably would've been screaming it. I don't say anything, I'm so totally freaked, I'm like, I swear, I'm like a statue of myself, cause I hear this totally actual person's voice coming straight out of my cat's mouth clear as a bell. So, of course, I'm completely fucked up for a second, and I'm thinking,

"Shit -- am I Son of Sam or something?"

And then, I go to myself in my head,

"Wait, Jonas, dude -- ask Carl a question, and -- if he answers you back, well -- then...you'll know something."

So, I finally go, cool as I could, except my lips are, like, stuck on my teeth, I go --

"Uh -- Carl -- did you just -- say something about sushi."

Right back at me, no pause, no nothing, he goes,

"Yes, don't you think? You can have the rice, how's that."

Okay, so -- I'm starting to feel more blown away than anybody ever in the whole history of the world, when he goes,

"And no wasabi. I can't imagine what fool would just assume a universal predilection for so aggressive a spice, and then be so churlish as to smudge it on every bit of fish...."

And then he kinds of "hmmphs" a little, I swear, and he says,

"Surely somebody's misundertood something somewhere along the way."

And then he crossed one paw over the other paw and leans on it and looks out the window.

Well, I guess it must've been about twelve minutes before I could get any words to come out at all or for anything to at all be happening in my brain, but finally, I swear, it felt like a year later, I go,

"Uh -- so, Carl -- are you -- talking?"

I'm not breathing, right. Carl doesn't say anything back. He just looks at me, then he looks out the window, looking like all of a sudden he's more interested in what's going on out there than in here. And I'm just sitting there totally freaking out, waiting for him to like -- I don't know -- tell me to kill my parents or something. So I'm completely intensively scared and quiet.

Then all of a sudden, this bird, or pidgeon, or whatever the hell it was, I don't know -- just some kind of regular bird, lands on the edge of the roof across from us and we both sit there looking at this bird, who happens to be flapping his wings in a big loud way, which gets my attention. I mean sure, maybe he was just flapping his wings because that's what it takes to hang out on the edge of a roof, I don't know -- but I was already starting to look at things differently, if you know what I mean. I was wondering for a second if he was talking to Carl, and if all of a sudden I was, like Dr. Doolittle, or insane, orwhat.

I swear, though, if anybody had a photo of us at that second it would've looked like a normal dude-and-his-cat-looking-out-the-window Kodak kind of moment. NOT.

So, I go, to myself, but like, out loud but in a really soft whisper, I go,

"Man, if that bird starts talking to me, I'm gonna cry."

Carl says,

"Jonas, if that bird is going to speak to anyone -- why on earth would you think that she had anything to say to you particularly?"

I say,

"Carl, no offense, but -- I didn't think you had all that much to say to me either, you know?"

Carl just looks at me. I got really panicky, all of a sudden. If words were spit, I was slobbering all over myself -- I'm going,

"I mean, out loud kind of talking, you know, I mean, like -- I mean, uh -- I mean, I always -- you know, thought that you always thought a lot of cool cat thoughts, I mean, I'm sure --"

I was a freaking mess, but he was still just looking at me,

" -- but I mean, well, you know, I gotta say, I don't know, Carl, I -- you know...I don't know if I can handle this whole Mr. Ed thing..."

He gets up, he walks over, looks me straight in the eye, and he says,

"My God, will you read a book."

The he jumps down and heads off around the corner. Like nothing was any different than any other time he ever came to sit on the table and look out at the birds.

Then back near the bedroom door a few seconds later, I hear him say,

"Oh, wait --"

and he comes back to the doorway of the kitchen and he says,

" -- an extra order of yellowtail is never a bad idea, and, please remember, for pity's sake -- no wasabi anywhere."

And he goes away again.

I call out -- don't ask me why, I was mental -- I said,

"You know, Carl, nobody inspects that shit. It could have some mercury or some shit in it."

I hear him say from down the hall,

"Oh, please. This from a man who eats corn dogs."

So, that was my first actual conversation with Carl.

A couple of days or a week passes by. Sometimes Carl talks a lot, sometimes he's not in the mood, but this time I pretty much buy the fact that my cat's really actually talking, like -- better than most people I know, in fact -- and that I'm not wacko. Or at least not more wacko than I can pretty much totally handle.

I gotta say -- with all due respect -- Carl could get pretty demanding, and he gave me these major lectures about cat food, at first, and about how would I like to eat ash, and I gotta tell you, he went on, like -- forever about it, so I end up blowing a lot of cash I didn't have to spare on some fairly fancy cat-type food. I totally up-graded his food quality and he stopped being so, well -- crabby. It's like, once we got the whole food thing settled, the whole rest of his personality started coming out.

But other than the cash factor, Carl's talking is really a cool and amazing thing when I'm home. Turns out he knows a shitload about music -- mostly classical and jazz! He wasn't always my cat. He's been around. He said that the kind of music I dug was kind of hard on his ears, but that he was working on appreciating it.

But whenever I was out, that first whole while right after, I was still kind of wierded out about the whole thing, and little by little, it bugs me enough that I decide I need witnesses.

So, I call Taz and Manny and Louie.

I mean, I didn't say,

"Hey, guys, Carl talks now, come on over and check it out--"

'Cause I gotta be honest with you, I knew I wasn't like, straight jacket wacko, but I still wasn't sure, I hadn't gotten, well -- a little bit electrocuted myself, maybe over the years from all the equipment, maybe all that fried up a little something in my brain. Yeah, yeah, I know, this is your brain on drugs, I know...yeah, well, that, too, sure. But that was a while back now, mostly all the time.

Still. It was a whole week and my cat -- Carl, my cat -- was still talking. It was a very heavy trip all by itself, let me tell you. No need for additives, baby.

So I told the guys I was having a little party. That way I knew they'd show.

So, Taz and Manny and Louie show up -- Taz and Louie together and Manny alone like I knew they would -- and all three of them mighty pissed off like I knew they would be when they found out there were no chicks and no party. But I begged them to stay saying I needed to show them something so they could tell me if it was real or if I was a mental case. And I got out some cold beers to nail them down with.

And I start handing them the picture bit by bit. I said,

"Okay, listen, something really wierd has happened, something really fucked up."

Louis goes, "Bad fucked up?"

Taz goes,"No, good fucked up, that's why he said it was fucked up, right?"

Here we go.

Louis goes, "Fuck yourself, Taz."

Taz goes, "Fuck you sideways, Louie."

Manny goes, "Whatever the fuck it is, man, I don't have time for three morons and some bullshit."

It's true, man. Manny has no tolerance for bullshit. In any form.

Suddenly, with Manny looking at me in that way he looks at you when he knows what you're going to say is gonna be stupid, I freak a little inside my head, and I think,

"They could think I was severely wacked out and blow me off permanently."

But then I remembered that I'm the only one who can write lyrics. So I was semi-cool for the moment.

I must've spaced for a second.

"Goddamit, what!" Manny.

"Jonas, stop fucking with us." Taz.

"Jonas, what's fucking up, man?" Louie.

I go, "Alright." I breathe deep. I jump in. I go, "Carl!"

Right. I called Carl. Like a moron. Like all of a sudden he was gonna come running to his name.

I leave the guys yelling at me from the kitchen and, believe me, by this time they're yelling, and I'm yelling back that it won't kill them to help me out for five minutes, and I go to get Carl from his pillow on the bed, which was where I last saw him.

I come in the bedroom and Carl looks up at me with one eye wide open and the other eye almost smashed completely closed against the pillow. Any other day that would've cracked me up.

He says, "Company?"

I go,

"Look, Carl -- because you're only talking to me out loud, I've been, I don't know -- a little worried. 'Cause I'm not real positive if I'm not kind of wacked out, you know? So I need witnesses."

He say, real bored,

"I was dreaming that I was walking the halls of the Louvre, no tourists in sight or sound, and there, right under the Mona Lisa, was a plate of assorted sashimi -- and I wake to this. Thank God I have a few more lives coming...."

And then he gets up and stretches and yawns.

And I go, really whiny, I swear,

"Will you please just do me this one favor, Carl, and just say hello to the guys, or whatever you want to say, 'cause --"

"Go -- I'll be out there in a minute."

I'm like -- not sure this is good enough. I mean, what's a minute in cat time, right, I go,

"Carl, please, man, don't leave me stranded, they'll --"

"Oh, for pity's sake, calm yourself, Jonas -- I've got to make an entrance, don't I? Now, go."

So, I go. But I'm nervous.

As I'm getting more beers, trying to pretend that everything's normal, I go,

"Guys -- Carl'll be out in a second. I think he's -- I don't know -- getting psyched, or some --"

Manny goes, "Oh, what are you fucking saying to me. This is bullshit."

And he left. That's Manny.

Taz and Louie open their beers -- they won't be going anywhere if somebody's put free cold beer in their hands. Still no Carl yet, so I'm trying to stall, so I get desperate -- I go for the fact that any one of us would bet on anything at all so long as it was really stupid, right, so I go,

"I bet you twenty bucks a piece that you both can't shut up for five minutes starting right now."

Their mouths slam shut and I know I bought some solid time. They both lean up against the kitchen counter and I'm just praying Carl shows up in time, so I don't have to blow forty bucks.

And just as it starts getting old, Carl comes out of the dark of the back, so smooth, so casual, so no-big-fucking-deal and he walks straight up to Louie and he sits down, right. And he's just looking up and looking up and looking up at Louie, like he does.

And then he goes,

"Louie -- I'll bet I can make you talk."

Silence, right. The big, loud kind.

Louie looks down at him, with his eyes real wide, right, and stares.

And Taz looks at me and goes, "You're such an asshole."

Then Carl looks up at me and goes,

"I suppose you'll want something more substantial than that, eh...oh dear God, I'll actually have to find a way to strike up some conversation with the Mensa Society here."

Well, meanwhile, of course, Taz and Louie are just catching flies, right, and Taz still wants to think I'm doing the talking even though I know he's way too freaked to speak 'cause he really knows that it's Carl talking. So, Taz is like, doing this whole thing of checking me out like I'm putting him on, but it's sheer bullshit.

Well, Carl goes walking around the guys' feet. Kind of fucking with them, I thought. And finally, he says to Taz,

"You know you really might've given me a bit of a drum roll, RazMaTaz -- that's your pet name for yourself, isn't it...so to speak?"

Then just sits there, in between the two of them, you know, waiting, you know -- that perfect cat sit where cats look like a piggy bank so you could put pennies in their head if they were?

And then he looks up at them and he goes, "So -- boys in the band, what do you think, what do you say?"

And he waits.

Then Louie goes, real quiet, he goes,

"Jonas, man -- I think your cat's gay."

I can't even deal with him being such an asshole. I go,

"Louie, I gotta break it to you, man -- I can't even deal with you being such an asshole! What the fuck is the matter with you, for Christ's sake Ð the cat, my cat, CARL-- A! CAT!! -- is talking!!! My cat is talking!!! OKAY?!!! Jesus Christ!!! MY CAT IS TALKING!!!!!!!"

I realized I was totally screaming. You know how the air kind of vibrates just when somebody's just gotten way too loud and then nobody's saying anything and the silence kind of rings and it's like -- whoa -- and it's really embarassing. Yeah, well, like that. I guess I must've been feeling kind of tense about having a talking cat only I never noticed 'cause I was keeping it a secret.

Secrets, man. I should probably write a tune at some point about keeping secrets. Something fairly intense.

But anyway, it took me about an hour to get these guys to admit that Carl was talking for real. But at least I knew I wasn't a wackadillo. Which was a pretty big relief, let me just say that.

They made me let them lock me out of the whole apartment building. Just to prove that I wasn't doing anything like a ventriloquist or anything. Yeah, right -- like, if I was that good at anything else, I'd still be being a fucking bartender.

But finally they bought it. And it's like my head felt totally clear again -- well, not totally clear, I mean, after all -- it was, you know, Taz and Louie, okay, but -- clear enough for then. I wished Manny had stayed, but the way things turned out, it turns out I didn't really need him as a trustworthy type witness anyway.

So, Taz tells me I have to get on Letterman. And that in exchange for Carl talking for real or whatever, Dave would let us play something, maybe"Speak To Me, Judy D.", on the air and we'd get a record deal. (Taz wrote most of the music, me the rest of the music and the lyrics. Cool song, I must say.)

But, well -- that's when Carl got pissed off. I could tell 'cause he started walking back and forth and pacing like he thinks he's a tiger, which before he could talk was kind of amusing, but which now it was a pretty heavy scene. We all got real quiet and watched him walk back and forth some more. It was making me nervous, I gotta say.

I finally go, "What, Carl?"

He goes, not happy, "You must be joking."

I go, "About what, why?"

He stops, he turns, he looks at me, he goes,

"Jonas -- if I am, in point of fact, to be a guest on one of those monuments to mediocrity, I am, in point of fact, to be treated as a guest. I am, under no circumstances whatsoever, to be used as a publicity stunt in some bad taste, dim-witted, provincial circus, . Rome is already burning, boys, there's work to be done."

Me and Taz and Louie really didn't know what he was talking about, but we were real quiet for like the next couple minutes. It was stupid of us to even go think about going public without asking him what he wanted to do first. Like we knew more than he did. Yeah, that'll be the day. Somebody'd be smarter than Carl, right. Finally, I go,

"Look, Carl, if it's gonna make you all pissed off and offended and all, then, well -- we just won't --"

And then, all of a sudden, I have this stupid stray thought, I think,

"What am I doing arguing with my cat, for Christ's sake -- I could just take him, put him in the cat carrier and --"

Carl says, out loud, mad as hell,

" -- if you tried something as fascistic as that, Jonas -- I'd sit on that stage and I'd stretch and I'd yawn and I'd stare off into the distance and I wouldn't utter one single solitary word. Not even meeow . You'd be wiping egg off your face for the rest of your life."

To be honest with you, it wasn't too scarey that he knew what I was thinking (I think people always think that would be), cause I guess I always figured that Carl always knew what I was thinking. It was just extremely embarassing to be caught red-handed thinking something pretty slimy about somebody you're supposed to like. So I felt really, really bad.

"Sorry, Carl, really -- this whole thing can get pretty wierd for me, sometimes -- I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

He goes, "Mm-hmmm..."

Taz goes, "Jesus, dude -- I can't believe you just apologized to your freakin' cat. And I don't even know for what."

Louie goes, "Hey, yeah."

Well, I guess you can imagine the kind of look Carl shot Taz especially -- but then, all of a sudden, it's like Carl's got this light bulb over his head or something, and he starts walking back and forth again, and then, suddenly, he makes this far, amazing jump up onto the big courduroy chair.

Only he doesn't chill out and curl up in the corner like usual -- he does that cat-bank sit on the edge, like really official or something, and he goes,

"Now, Jonas, I ask you -- how do we parlay this happy accident of nature and technology into something really resonant? My instinct is: we begin with the most credible medium -- relatively speaking, of course -- we begin, Jonas -- with print. We begin, Jonas, with the Los Angeles Times. True, the New York Times wields a weightier pscyho-societal imprint, but here we are -- proximity will have to rule. And that is how we make a clean, classy leap into the public arena."

He was actually extremely impressive, cat or no cat.

And then he looks at Taz and he goes,

"And now it's time for you and yours to mosey on along."

Just as he says this, Louie head drops back and snores really loud. Carl goes to Taz,

"You're driving, I hope."

So, they left, and the next day I called the L.A. Times.

Let me tell you, until you go and try and report a totally true, but really off the wall story -- well, don't ever try it. Take my word for it. I was hung up on in like, four seconds. They thought I was making phony phone calls, sure. I guess I could see the point of those L.A. Times people, though. I wouldn't have believed me either. I would've thought I was definitely pulling my leg, and I would have definitely hung up on me, too.

Well, Carl said we ought to drive down there right away and he said he should have immediately seen that.

So, we go down there and -- of course, duh -- they freak. Freak, freak, freak, freak, freak, freak, freak. Especially cause he could talk so well, like -- not just a meeow that sounds almost like a real word or the way parrots talk. And also 'cause Carl knew so much about everything.

So -- bam -- they write this big old article that goes right , I kid you not, right on the front page of the L.A. Times. Well, okay, bottom right front page, but still -- bam -- there was Carl, looking like a zillion bucks (he always photographed really well, even before), sitting in this expensive leather chair, next to an article about him and a little about me, too.

I couldn't believe the guys were totally pissed off that they didn't put a mention of the band in. I mentioned that they might want to get a grip on reality.

And actually, me, personally -- I was totally relieved that it was just Carl and almost no me or us. Enough was going on already.

The action around the apartment building alone after Carl was in the paper, I mean -- you always hear about it, all those scumbag reporters and photographers staking people out and driving them crazy, but you can't even believe how rotten and sick and disgusting it is in real life. Not unless you've been through it. And, of course, Carl wasn't coming out cause he wanted to stay under wraps for the right moment, and I sure as hell wasn't letting any of those scumbags in.

Some of my neighbors wanted to have me evicted, I swear. I guess I don't blame them too much -- it was a pretty wacked out scene. And, of course, some of my other neighbors are kissing ass, trying to get famous, right. This blond girl from the fourth floor starts sunbathing and doing leg lifts on this grungy little dried out front lawn we almost have, so they'd take her picture. Like it's something she does all the time, and now they're lucky enough to catch it on film. Hollywood, I swear to God.

But, meanwhile, inside, Carl's doing a lot of thinking and he tells me he's worked out a very clean strategy. He said he didn't want to fritter away his fifteen minutes foolishly. He said he had a responsibility to make a difference.

I said, "Whatever, Carl -- it's your gig."

Well, the Tonight Show calls. They want to see Carl on the Tonight Show. Carl hears the chick on the message machine and goes,

"That'll do. Just call back and say yes, I don't want ot waste time and energy sifting through offers. It doesn't matter where, as much as it matters how much and how soon."

Of course, Taz and Manny and Louie are majorly freaking out and on my back about talking to Carl about getting us on with him, and I'm like,

"You guys, they're not gonna let us on. Leno wants to talk to Carl, man, Carl -- not us, not our band, not even me."

Manny goes,

"Not even you -- bullshit! You own the only talking cat in the whole fucking world, man, believe that the man will be wanting to talk to your ass."

I go, "No, seriously, I don't think so." And I didn't.

Taz is totally revved and on my nerves,

"But, come on, dude, WAIT!: we finish 'Cat Man' and kick ass in front of the whole fucking country and finally get a fucking deal! C'mon, dude, you can't wimp, you gotta make this work!"

This wimp reference doesn't make me any too fucking happy, but I don't say anything. But I'm definitely in a rock and a hard place and the guys are deeply pissed and staring at me, and I go,

"Look, you guys, I don't fucking know, alright. Carl's gotta go in tomorrow for a pre-interview and we'll see what --"

They don't get what a pre-interview is. I didn't know either.

"It's like auditioning for the gig, except they talk to you and see if they like you. He's gotta tell three stories that have a beginning, a middle and an end. No kidding. They say anybody who isn't already a big famous star has to do it."

Louie and Taz think about that for a minute and Manny goes,

"Are you shitting me -- people have to get interviewed to get interviewed? Are you fucking kidding me?"

I go, "I guess so -- that's what this chick on the phone said."

Then he goes, to nobody really,

"You know what -- that's just the kind of bullshit that makes me want to check out. That's just the kind of shit that makes me fucking crazy."

And he slams down his beer and he walks out. Manny, man.

Louie goes,

"I don't think I even know three stories that ever happened to me, forget about all the way through, you know?"

I go,

"Whatever, I'll ask this chick about it tomorrow when we go in."

Taz goes,

"Wait a minute -- you're going in?"

I go, really pissed off,

"Well, it's a funny thing, Taz, but -- Carl can't drive."

Silence. They just look at me. I keep going.

" I mean you guys, he is my cat, okay? I mean, if Carl was your cat you'd be taking him over for his pre-interview for Jay's show --"

Taz goes,

"Oh, I see, it's Jay's show, now, I get it, Jay's show, uh-huh --"

I go,

"Taz give me a fucking break -- alright, listen, the lady told me she wants me to talk, too, just in case, but I'm not making up three fucking stories or anything --"

"Oh, 'cause you're too big a fucking star --"

"No, asswipe!! -- cause they want Carl to come up with three fucking stories 'cause I'm not going on the motherfucking show! They don't care if I can talk, I could always talk, they only care that Carl talks cause Carl's a fucking CAT!!!!!"

That shuts Taz up for a second. I hate getting that angry. It hurts my head. Another loud silence.

Louis goes, "Jesus Christ. This is so fucked up."

"...And anyway, she told me Leno will probably not have any time for me that night, 'cause even if Carl passes his pre-interview, they might not put him on depending on if there's big stars or...little stars..."

This chick on the phone was listing the possible people, cause some big stars probably couldn't make it both at the same time, and she said, somebody, somebody, Cheryl Tiegs and somebody else, and Cheryl Tiegs was all I heard. I used to have a slightly major thing for her, when I was a little kid. And Louie did, too, so I kept my mouth shut about her.

Taz goes, "You're bailing on us, aren't you, Jonas. You fuckwad."

I go, "Fuck you, man."

And Taz walks out and slams the door as hard as he could. Real mature.

Louie stands there for a long time looking at the floor. And I'm just standing there looking at the top of Louie's head. I forgot how much hair he was losing.

Anyway, I know Louie since junior high football, I know he can't walk out just like that. So he's just standing there and standing there and standing there. And then he walks out.

I spent a lot of time being confused and pretty torn up about it all. But not as much as I would've thought. You know, as I would've thought if I could've imagined the whole deal before it happened.

Like I ever could have.

So, the next day Carl and I go in to interview for the Jay Leno show. Carl asks me to comb my hair real smooth and braid it. Cool, whatever, I do it -- it looks pretty good that way actually.

We go in. We see this Lisa lady. She's in one of those suits that's painted on, almost hot, makeup wired for sound, and she's holding a clipboard. I really dislike clipboards. I don't know why.

I start choking from her perfume right off. Carl shoots me a look to chill, but it's like I inhaled it down the wrong pipe or something.

She asks me real politely if I want some water, but like I'm a mental patient. I guess she figured I was choking cause I was really nervous. I don't think I was, really. I think I was pretty sure without even thinking about it that Carl was going to do all the talking and they'd sort of forget about me the way they did at the Times and I'd have nothing to worry about.

And I was right.

Without this Lisa chick even having time to check out her clipboard, Carl starts talking so silky and smart you would've thought you were watching, like, oh, I don't know, like -- a senator who was a cat or something. It was a truly happening sight.

I mean, here we have this executive-type slick chick who has way too much attitude. I don't mean mean exactly, I mean like she acts like she's really pleasant or something, but she makes me pissed off anyway. You know the type. Too many pearls or something.

Well, anyhow, she didn't worry Carl a bit. Carl ruled.

He starts going into about how the animal kingdom and the kingdom of people could be doing all sorts of cooperative shit together instead of the humans always acting like they own the place, and ruining it besides, and about them having Lassie and RinTinTin and Old Yeller, but how they don't do so well by felines in film and television and how they're always putting cats in the dryer and and the microwave and cruel and disrespectful stuff like that, making them almost always be typecast as evil and I'm telling you he was talking like he was, I don't know -- Walter Cronkite or President of the World or something, and he goes on for like ten minutes straight and he is totally awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome. I was really proud to know him.

Well, sure, this Lisa chick's jaw was dropped the whole time. I'm telling you she was catching flies for ten minutes straight. It was actually a lot of fun watching her be totally freaked.

Then Carl stops. He says,

"Perhaps you'd like to ask Jonas how this turn of events has affected his life."

I freeze right up.

Lisa turns to me and she says,

"Very good. Fabulous. Now leave the room and go down to the parking lot and wait by your car. I want to see him talk without you here."

Not even nice, like -- at all. I'm like, fine, bitch. I go, "Fine." I leave out the bitch part for obvious reasons.

I've obviously got no problem with this at all, and as I'm at the door about to walk out of it, Carl goes.,

"Jonas, the woman needs empirical convincing. Go home. Linda will find me a ride home, won't you, dear?"

Nobody can make you feel small like Carl. It's so great.

Lisa goes, after blinking a couple of times, "It's Lisa. Um, yeah...I'll get you right to your door."

Carl goes, "How gracious of you, Lisa."

I go, "Take it easy." And I'm out of there, free as a bird.

Lisa drops Carl off about three hours later. He tells me he told her the wrong house on purpose, a couple of blocks away so he could sneak in past the creeps. The poor little guy was totally exhausted.

"You have no concept of how many imbeciles I've spoken to, Jonas, no concept. The fact that anything even remotely intelligent ever ends up on television is a complete and utter miracle, Jonas, understand that, and grieve."

Then he goes, as if he's just so totally over the whole thing,

"Tomorrow night. I go on tomorrow night. Wash your hair, I'm going to bed."

I go into instant panic attack,

"Wait -- what do you mean wash my hair, Carl, I can't g--"

Carl goes,

"Breathe, Jonas, breathe. I'm going on alone. As a matter of fact, it's required. Lisa said it's either solo or no go. And I quote."

Well, not only am I incredibly relieved, I also happen to think, once I'm out of the way, that this is a pretty major accomplishment for a cat or for anyone. So, I congratulate him.

He goes,

"Jonas, my friend, I thank you kindly for your well-wishing, but you are, I'm afraid, far too easily impressed. But we'll fix that."

I didn't know what he meant, but the whole thing was now officially exciting. No pressure on me at all. Zip. Zero. I can just watch and dig the scene. And my cat Carl was gonna be on the Tonight Show tomorrow night. It was way too far out.

But one thing I tell Carl before he turns in. I'm worried about the guys. I told him in a nutshell what the story was.

I'll never forget this, he goes,

"I'm going to share something with you, Jonas. You are actually quite a talented guitarist. Your lyrics can also have a certain -- well, economy, as well as, I can imagine, a strong populist appeal, given the right venue. But, I tell you this, quite frankly -- you must educate yourself. You must practice more. You must concentrate. You must develop a will. You must take responsibility for your talent. You must not dream and fiddle your life away amongst people who are doing the same thing without the same gifts. Now, let's get some sleep, shall we -- big day tomorrow."

Then he leaves and goes back to the bedroom. And I just sat there for a long, long time, staring out, thinking how funny life was getting.

`````````````````

So, tomorrow comes.

And it was funny, but of all people, Manny calls to tell me and Carl to kick ass. Which, I gotta tell you, I was totally blown away by. And then he blows me away even further by telling me he's leaving the music business. And I swear to God, it was the first time I ever heard him not sound like he was really pissed off at everything. He goes,

"Let's face it, man -- if I gotta be waiting for some cat to talk to get a decent gig, you know what I'm saying? Anyway, I'm tired. I'm just too old for this shit."

I told him the business was losing a great bass player. He goes,

"Jonas, man -- don't kid yourself. Nobody's gonna even notice I'm gone. Take care now, keep the peace."

I thought that was pretty strange for Manny, of all people, to say "keep the peace", but what the hell do I know. People are funny.

A limo picks us up. First time in my life I didn't chip in to get one.

Carl is looking totally shiny and calm and in the groove and I don't look too bad at all actually. I got my good leather on, so I look like his bodyguard, which we both thought was pretty amusing. Not a nerve in him, boy, I'm telling you.

So, some other nicer, cuter chick than Lisa, even though her name was Lisa, too, takes us into the green room.

You know how they always talk on TV about how the guests are sitting in the green room or watching in the green room, and I swear, you'd think it's gotta be something at least halfway slick. Not even part way. So, I'm kind of thrown cause I always thought the green room was gonna be something special and it's not -- it's just this totally no big deal kind of a room, that's not green at all, where they have a good TV set and they've got some cheese and crackers and a couple of grapes and shit.

One thing the green room does have that's impressive, though, is it's got the other guests in it.

Yeah, Cheryl was there. Looking great. Carl and I had been through how I was supposed to act and not act because I confessed about having had the slightly major thing for her, and he gave me the old one-two about behaving in a very smooth manner.

So, I totally ignored her until this other Lisa, introduced me. Cheryl goes,

"How do you do, Jones."

I didn't correct her. Sometimes people do that with my name when they're not listening real close.

But Carl actually gave me a compliment on how cool I was, so you know I did okay. Cheryl was nice, I guess, but much more into Carl. Of course, I would be, too.

Anyway, I was relieved she was going on right after the guy from the old Newhart, cause I didn't want to be watching Carl with Cheryl Tiegs in the same room. That would've been too intense.

And when I heard Jay introduce the musical guest -- I must say I did feel bad about the guys, but not too bad. They wouldn't have let two bands on in one night anyway.

So, the guy who used to be on Newhart is being pretty funny and him and Jay are cracking each other up and talking about stuff I don't care about. I'm not too tuned in, 'cause I have to admit, I'm still pretty charged about being in the same room with Cheryl, but I'm still totally ignoring her, so it's cool. She's ignoring me as well -- I guess I should say that, too. But I'm eating, like, so many fucking grapes. And Carl's just hanging out, laying down by my side on the couch in chill mode.

And then finally, Cheryl leaves to go on, so I can just kick back with Carl and be myself. I got it together just enough to smile and nod at her for luck. And she actually smiled back, real warm and real. How cool is that. I take that smile to my grave.

So, there's me and Carl sitting in the green room of the actual Tonight Show, watching Jay Leno talk to Cheryl Tiegs. And something about all of it seemed pretty Twilight Zone all of a sudden.

So, I say to Carl,

"Carl, think about it -- it feels like, little by little, we're getting sucked into the television set, you know? I mean pretty soon it'll be you sitting there where Cheryl is and it'll be like you got sucked up into the TV set."

And I make that Twilight Zone noise.

And Carl doesn't answer me.

I go, "You know, Carl?"

Nothing.

I go, "Huh? You know what I mean, Carl?"

Nothing. No answer.

He starts licking his paw.

I'm starting to freak.

But I keep a lid on it at first.

I go, "Carl? Carl? Yo -- earth to cat, come in, PLEASE."

And he just lays there, licking his fucking paw. Then he starts to spread his toes out and lick between them.

That was it . I flipped out. I pick him up and I go,

"CARL?!! CARL!!!! CAN'T YOU TALK ANYMORE?????!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And I guess I'm holding him pretty tight and he meeows really, really loud which he almost didn't do at all anymore, which makes me even more panicked and insane and I start to shake him and I'm yammering about the Tonight Show and how I can't believe how he's picking now not to talk anymore and what the fuck am I gonna tell Jay Leno and the whole fucking world and I suddenly realize that he's been yelling back at me for a while now.

I couldn't hear him cause I was yelling so loud. And he probably couldn't yell too loud because I was squashing his little lungs, but he's managing to get out,

"Jonas, DAMMIT!!!! Put me down INSTANTLY!!!"

Well, now I'm so freaked that he's still talking that I drop him. Thank God about cats landing on their feet, right.

But, whoa -- how pissed off is he. He's stalking and walking and talking and talking at me and his hair is all standing up all along his back and I'm breathing like I just ran a marathon from being so completely out of my mind with panic and so completely relieved in like about ten seconds.

I don't remember what Carl was saying to me, I have to be honest. I was so relieved that he was talking at all that I wasn't listening, and right over him, for the first time, I interrupt him, and I go,

"Carl, man-- you can't do that, alright?! You can't not answer me after I've asked you a million questions right two seconds before you're supposed to go on the Tonight Show as the only talking cat in the whole history of the whole fucking world!! I almost died just then, I swear to God, I almost had a heart attack and died right then. Jesus!!!"

My heart was like -- punching it's way out of my chest.

Just as I say this to Carl, some new, wide sort of chick with the biggest shoulderpads I've ever seen in my life, which I haven't seen chicks wear for like, ever, and sticks her head and monster shoulders in and says, in this chirpy fucking voice,

"Is there a problem in here, people?"

No kidding. Just like a fucking homeroom teacher.

Carl goes, not missing a beat,

"My friend just won three thousand dollars on a horse. He's fine now."

She looks at him for a second, and then she looks at me from around the door and says,

"You do realize you're not going on, don't you?"

I go, pretty sarcastic, but I don't think she notices,

"Yes, I do realize that."

She goes, "Oh, good, then we're all set then."

And then she looks at Carl and goes, "Now, don't be nervous, you."

And she leaves, thank God. So, it's just me and Carl again.

The room's still ringing, you know, with all the crazed wacko-ness that just went on before.

I was suddenly way too embarrassed to look at Carl. I was just trying to swallow, and just breathe again. I tell you, I hate to say it, but I almost cried, and I don't even know why.

And Carl pads over to me and sits right by me on the couch. And I put my hand on his back like I used to when he was just a cat-cat with not so much to say. And I started to calm down.

And Carl looks up at me and says, in the nicest, saddest voice,

"Jonas, please forgive me -- I've been -- well, for one thing, horribly insensitive, for another, shamefully self-absorbed. I'm ashamed to say I took your well-being completely for granted -- it's just, you've taken this -- well, very singular shift in such smooth stride, that I -- well, I'm absolutely floored by your equanimity. Truly." I'm the one who was floored. I felt totally, incredibly complimented that Carl thought that about me, and I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. I dorked, of course,

"Well, thanks, Carl, but I mean -- I'm -- I'm just -- you know, I'm just -- I don't know..."

"Jonas, you are a fine person, and I'm profoundly grateful to you for taking me in, and treating me with such kindness, and taking such excellent care of me, and, again, I am so sorry to have caused you anguish."

"That's cool, Carl. I'm -- uh..."

"...I was suddenly so completely overwhelmed by the proportions of the event, you know -- the exponentially potent effect we could have here tonight. We stand at the threshold of a the possibility of a remarkable genesis, shift in consciousness of radical proportions, you and I. And in case you haven't noticed -- this particular corner of the media is a political hornet's nest. But regardless, Jonas, I reiterate -- so terribly sorry to have given you such a fright."

I go,

"Oh, hey, Carl, no problem, really, I'm -- no problem."

To be honest with you, I was blushing my head off. Nobody ever apologized to me in such a great way before in my whole life. And when they weren't totally wrong either -- you know what I mean. I was just so blown away by how nice he was and all, I didn't know how to handle it. And then he was just looking at me, and there was this really long silence and I got nervous, and I dorked again, of course, and I go,

"And hey, Carl -- don't be nervous at all. You'll kill, no doubt about it, okay? Really -- you'll be great, I know it."

Which was a pretty incredibly lame thing to say to Carl of all people. But Carl keeps looking at me, and he goes,

"Why, thank you, Jonas, your support means all the world to me."

And I go, "Sure, Carl, anytime. Hey."

And it's like, very, very peaceful for a second.

Then -- WHAM! -- this big chick with the shoulderpads that ate Pittsburgh comes tearing through the door and full on into the room. Like a rhino, but with attitude. Oh, and I see she's got, what else, a clipboard.

Anyway, she comes charging in and she goes, in that fucking perky voice,

"Mr. Cat? We need to get down to the stage right now. Now, I hope you are ready to be very funny -- now let's just go over the list of questions Jay has for you --"

She would've wrecked my nerves for life.

Anyway, Carl just looks at her like she's a, I don't know -- a big, annoying chick, and he's such a scream -- he just takes his own good time, like everybody outghta be on Cat Time kinda time, yawning, stretching, wrecking her nerves right back, and he just ambles on over to the door and he goes,

"Catch you later, Jonas."

And he actually winked at me. It was indescribably cool.

And then, he's out the door and headed down that long hallway to the stage. And it felt nice to know I didn't have to be scared for him at all. Nope. Carl would always be dealing the cards.

So, there I am sitting all alone -- just me and almost a whole thing of Swiss cheese and some really shitty wine, just watching the monitor. Which is what they call a TV set when it's in the green room.

So, Jay comes back from the band playing and makes a couple of jokes and then he starts to introduce Carl. And he's saying something like,

"Now, maybe you folks, well, certainly, you folks here in L.A. have heard a little stir, well, actually a really big stir -- "

-- and then he starts doing an impression of Ed Sullivan going,

"We've got this really big stir for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen, a really big stir..."

Which frankly pisses me off cause I just want to see Carl. Then Jay goes,

"-- something something something Miracle Cat--"

-- and I'm thinking here we go, you know, but no, he's gotta do some bullshit about Miracle Cat not being some pet spray or something and I'm thinking,

"What's he fucking around so much for?"

And I go, out loud -- probably way too loud for being in the Tonight Show green room -- I go,

"Come fucking on, Leno!"

And finally, finally, finally, he says,

" --something something cat -- ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm human welcome to -- Carl the Cat!!!"

Well, I gotta say -- it was so incredibly cool. People were going pretty wild -- I guess 'cause he was a cat coming out there, which was completely unusual to start, but also he did look so entirely hip when they pulled back that curtain a little for him.

Carl was Mr. Entrance, man, that's for damn sure. He was sitting down when they pulled the curtain back. I'm sure nobody's ever done that before -- it was so slick.

And then he does that Big Cat of the Jungle walk, you know, like he owns the place.

And I'm whistling and stomping and yelling my head off. I must say, he looked so confident -- especially for being a cat out there all alone on the Tonight Show. I was pretty proud. I really was.

So anyway, they're all going "Awwwww" -- you know, the way they always do for animals, and then they really step it up when Jay puts out his hand for Carl to shake and Carl hands Jay back his paw without skipping a beat. They thought that was such an incredibly big deal. They didn't know what they were in for.

And Jay's smiling down at Carl and clapping and, you know, he like -- gestures at the chair, and Carl looks up at Jay -- and then walks right past him and does a super-spectacular practically flying jump right onto Jay's desk.

Well, the audience goes apeshit. I go apeshit. Jay's laughing and clapping, but I got the feeling he wasn't totally hot on the idea. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong.

But old Carl's walking the desk top, until he decides to take a seat right at Jay's right hand. And he does his bank sit and looks so totally great on the Tonight Show desk.

The audience was screaming and laughing their asses off -- I swear, they give those audiences some very good drugs 'cause they get insanely excited over just about anything. I mean, I knew Carl was worth screaming over, but so far all he really was to them was a cat who sat in the right place.

Jay settles them down a little. And then he sits down, and when he does, he and Carl are about the same height -- it did look pretty damn funny.

Then Jay pulls his chair in and he and Carl just look at each other for a while. Almost nose to nose. Of course, the audience laughs their head off, screaming, clapping, you know how they get. And I'm just sitting there counting down to the big moment.

Jay goes, finally, when he can find a space in all the laughs, he goes,

"Carl, don't be shy -- have a seat."

More screaming laughs. It was funny, I guess, but, still, the drugs must be good. Then Jay says, and he straightens up his tie a little,

"So, ladies and gentleman -- now, Carl here is strongly rumored -- by nothing less than the Los Angeles Times, folks -- Carl is rumored -- to speak."

And Jay looks at Carl, and Carl looks at Jay, and Carl doesn't say a word. I almost panic, but in my heart I know better now. The audience cracks up again, of course. Jay keeps going,

"Now -- many people here at the show has ostensibly heard the animal speak, and is aghast, that's right, aghast -- at just how fluently Carl can speak."

Jay looks at Carl, Carl looks at Jay, Carl still doesn't say anything. The audience laughs harder, of course. Jay keeps going again, and it's starting to drive me nuts, and I'm just pouring wine down my throat to keep calm,

"Now, I'm embarrassed to say, I rarely get a chance to actually read all the newspapers, that's right, I admit it -- you see, there are people whose job it is to tell me what it says in the papers and on TV. Now, by and large, these are the same people who said they have had astonishing conversations with a cat, these are the very same people upon whom I depend for all my information, all news of the world at large, and so -- I find myself thinking, as I sit here with this obviously well-trained animal -- it's funny, but they are also -- most of them, I do believe -- victims of some of the most satisfying, and perhaps, humiliating practical jokes it has ever been my pleasure to stage. SO -- to be truly mature about it -- Nyah-Nyah-Nyah-Nyah-Nyah! to every last one of you who have participated in this pathetic attempt at a coup, as it were, I say, HA! HA! You're going to have to get up a whole lot earlier to catch me out and, no, I will not give you the satisfaction of hearing me ask this simple house cat one single serious question on national television. Nobody, but nobody is going to get me to make quite that much of a big fat fool out of myself, thank you very, very much."

And Carl goes,

"Well, almost nobody."

The audience gasps -- big time.

I go, "YES!!"

Jay -- poor, poor guy -- is gone. Blown far, far away to planet Z.

See, the thing is when you see Carl talk for the first time, one of the things that's so freaky is you know it's him talking 'cause you can totally tell it's coming straight from his mouth. I mean, you really don't think it's coming from behind the chair or that you're on Candid Camera or anything, or, like it's one of those animated animals from, like, Babe, or something, I mean, 'cause it's live., right in front of you. And your brain just can't swallow it.

So, Jay goes into statue mode like I did at first, right. He probably thought he was going wacko in front of the whole fucking country. So, now Carl's got the floor, right. And you know how he can talk,

"Well, Jay, it's obvious you're leading far too insular a life -- you're going to have to get out into the real deal, plant your feet on terra firma, hmmm? You know, even I -- albeit merely a simple house cat -- understand the absolute primal necessity to reconnect with all things natural, you know, run out and get my paws dirty once in awhile. Does wonders for the perspective."

The audience has been talking more and more to each other and gasping and gasping and Oh-My-God-ing all over the place and, like, trying to figure it out, like a magic trick, or something, and Jay is like -- totally made of stone still. You can tell he's trying to catch up, but Carl's twice around the track already. And he just sails right on ahead. A beautiful sight to see.

Carl goes,

"Now, Jay, quite a few years back now, but I was always -- you'll forgive me -- curious, and I can't recall on which side of the issue you ended up...that whole motorcycle helmet broo-ha-ha -- weren't you involved somehow, at least peripherally? You were for the law, I believe, are you not?"

Jay goes, "...uhhh...."

Better than I could've done if I were him. I'm serious. But he's, you know, seriously thrown, he's in I-don't-know-what-the-fuck-is-happening-in-front-of-my-own-fucking-eyes hell. And he knows millions of people are watching him at the same time. No thanks, not me. I don't care how much moolah you wanna throw at me.

Carl goes,

"-- because it would seem to me, that helmets could, in fact, limit vision, as well as hearing, and, to be frank, I'm simply not so sure that isn't just too intrusive a law, if people want to endanger themselves, perhaps they're entitled to -- Jay, please -- please come back to us, I'm boring myself to tears here --"

The audience goes bananas. They're gonna hurt themselves laughing and clapping and screaming so hard. But wierd laughs, too, you know -- cause they're still not unfreaked out yet either. Jay snaps out of it a little and he goes,

"Well, I'm -- I'm-- I'm --"

"Overpaid?"

Carl, man.

I don't have to tell you about the audience. Beserk is a pretty good word for it, I guess. And Jay, I mean, he puts his head down on the desk and then he puts his hands over his head. You know, to sort of wait it out and hide at the same time. The audience finally, finally chills, and Jay goes,

"Ladies and gentleman, I --"

And then he takes his finger and goes up and down his lips making the brrrrrr, bbrrrrrrrr, bbbrrrrrr sound you make when you can't say anything right, and then he says,

" -- Oh, Jesus -- we gotta do a commercial. We'll -- be back."

Well, the roof is coming off the whole place. I hear people rushing past the door, laughing, wierded out, screaming,

"Did you see that fucking CAT?!!!! Did you see that fucking CAT?!! That fucking cat if fucking Brilliant!!!!"

Well, there I am, sitting in that room alone, with the door almost closed. And I'm in one of the wierdest head spaces I've ever been in my whole entire life,w ithout drugs of any kind. I mean, I had almost a whole bottle of wine, all the grapes and almost the whole thing of cheese, but none of it made a dent.

I mean, I'll be honest, I've always been kind of, well -- kind of a loser type, truthfully, to be really straight with you. You know, I didn't even call my folks to tell them about Carl 'cause they'd just start going off about drugs and a real job and my mom'd probably start going on about how Carl was Satan, and basically, they think I'm a fuck up. I can't really say I blame them, but we never really got along anyway so it doesn't really matter. And I never really had any guy friends I could really trust, or mostly even partially trust. And women, well -- let's not even get into it. And, you know, I never cut an album, or sold a song, or played a gig where I didn't pay to play. So, I'm pretty used to feeling like I never did anything right.

But sitting in that green room that night, man. I don't know, I guess 'cause he stayed with me and I fed him and all, I guess like I felt like maybe I was at least a little part of something actually big and important for the first and only time of my life. And, for a lot of reasons, I was happier than I'd ever been in my whole life, right that night, right then and there in that green room. And all just 'cause I knew Carl.

And if he was gonna turn out to be this big outrageous star, well, I was happy for him. And proud of him, even though that's lame to say, him being much smarter than me.

Well, so, I'm sitting there listening to all this excitement, and I'm sitting there feeling happy, and Jay comes back on, back from the band playing again.

And Jay looks like he's got it back together again, like he's back in the driver's seat.

Even though Carl is still steering.

Jay goes, "We're baaaaack!"

Applause like you'd never heard, Jay holds it down pretty fast. He goes,

"Did you always talk, Carl?"

"Of course, but nobody ever listened, ba-rum-bum."

The audience is eating him up alive and Jay's back to his old self and Carl goes,

"No, truthfully -- I am not the one who could tell you with any accuracy what actually happened to, let's say, build the bridge, but I believe my friend Jonas could enlighten you."

Oh my God. I can't move. At all.

Jay goes, "Is your friend Jonas also a cat?"

My chest gets real tight 'cause now Jay Leno just said my name on The Tonight Show on national television.

Carl goes, "Not in the least -- Jonas is a rock guitarist. He looks after me."

Jay laughs a little and so does the audience and Jay goes,

"Really."

Carl goes, "Mm-hm, he's quite gifted, actually."

And then -- HE LOOKS INTO THE CAMERA AND GOES,

" -- aren't you, Jonas?"

I think I dropped the wine on the couch.

And then Carl turns to the audience and goes,

"Wouldn't you all like Jonas to come out here and tell us what happened that -- let's say -- made me talk?"

Well, they worship him, now, so they all go clapping their asses off, and Jay goes,

"Now, Carl -- this is my show."

"So far," says Carl.

And then I just remember as they all start going beserk again, I start screaming out loud to myself in the green room. I'm going,

"AAAA!!!!! AAAAHHH!!!! OH, SHIT!!!! SHIT!!!!! OH, NOOOOOO!!! SHIT!!!!"

I went insane. Insane.

Next thing I know, Shoulderpads comes screeching in all red-faced and sweaty with her glasses sliding down her nose, and she grabs me by the arm, hard, and I shook her off harder than I probably should have, but you can only fuck with me so far, I don't care what sex you are. I think I told her to keep her fucking hands off me. I'm sure I was acting like I was being taken by the Nazis or something.

But I scared her enough for her not to yank on me for a while, but she starts screaming all sorts of urgent instructional shit at me, but I didn't hear a word. Like you know how in the Snoopy cartoon, the adults go, "Wa, WaWa, WaWaWa," but anyhow, that's what I'm hearing in my left ear, and Carl and Jay are laughing and talking their asses off.

I have to turn the set up so I can hear them over this mutant chick, just in time to catch Jay saying,

"So, where is he, where's the infamous Jonah?"

Carl goes, "No, Jay, Jonah is the whale story -- this is the cat story, and it's Jonas -- Jonas Page."

Shoulderpads is yelling, "See!! See!! I told you!!! Come on, we've got to get you out there NOW!!"

I'm ignoring her, which is tough. But I'm in hell so I don't care. Carl's going,

" -- something something -- neglected to mention that Jonas is pathologically shy. He's probably long left the building by now."

Jay goes, "Oh, no -- "

-- and then HE LOOKS INTO THE CAMERA AT ME and says,

" -- now, come on, Jonas, don't be shy -- we're all out here waiting for you -- you know what, folks, I think Jonas needs a little encouragement, I think he needs to know we're a friendly bunch, huh? C'mon, Jonas --"

Well, they start to clap and whistle the way they do when somebody gets asked to sing a song or do an imitation or something and they don't want to, only they usually want to and I didn't.

It was my worst nightmare. I had to go.

And as I start walking to the door, I like -- can't move, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack and die right there in the actual green room of The Tonight Show. And for some reason, I start spacing out and thinking about real actual dying, I don't know what was up with that -- maybe it was lack of oxygen or something, 'cause I honestly felt like I might just kick right there. And I'm thinking,

"What if I die on the air in front of millions of people and ruin Carl's chances of getting the animal kingdom and the human kingdom to -- "

-- and I think I hear Carl saying to me over the monitor,

"Come on, Jonas, time to get sucked into the TV set."

But I can't be sure I really heard that 'cause I'll bet I fainted a little or something, and the next thing I really remember seeing is like -- all these people in suits and ties and in skirts and high heels, and technician type guys in T-shirts and somebody patted me on the face with like a powder puff thing and they're all smiling, and patting me on the shoulder, and pushing me forward.

And for a couple of seconds I get real wierdly calm and I couldn't hear anything, even though I could see this curtain pull back and I could see the audience looking over toward this other really, really bright light and then I hear somebody, from the audience, I think, yell,

"There he is!"

And then I could hear everything again. And I swear to God, people start going,

"JO-nas! JO-nas! JO-nas!"

And stamping their feet, like at a concert. I don't know how I kept walking. I must've been on a cloud or something.

And suddenly, I come out into the light. And I see Carl. Sitting his perfect cat-bank sit on the desk.

And then I see Jay Leno, and I think,

"I must be on The Tonight Show."

Please, I didn't know if I was tripping or dying or what.

But, you know something -- Jay Leno stands right up and he shakes my hand. So nice. I was really knocked out. He goes,

"At last -- take a seat, sir, Carl's public is waiting!"

So, I sit down. In the chair, of course. And I'm looking at Carl and I'm looking at Jay and -- it was the wierdest thing -- but I think,

"Oh, it's okay, I'm dreaming. It's okay."

I mean, I wasn't, but I think my brain was checking out. Whatever gets you through the night, right?

But it was great, because when I thought I was dreaming, I thought also that it was a really fun, really kick-ass dream. And Jay said something to me and I laughed, even though I didn't even hear it. And then I start looking around, and I dork in front of all of America, and I go,

"Wow. I'm on the Tonight Show. This is so great."

And everybody laughs and claps for me, though , and Jay goes,

"Well, we're happy that you're happy, Jonas..."

Then Carl goes,

"Now, Jonas, how long have you and I known each other..."

And I guess I started talking and then Carl talked again and then me and then Jay and before I knew it I was having an actual conversation on the actual Tonight Show even though I thought it was a dream when I was having it.

And I actually had a great time.

And I guess I told them that the story pretty much the way I told you, except a lot shorter, of course.

But what I didn't tell them, but what I can tell you is, at one point, I was looking at Carl while him and Jay were going back and forth about how not to try to electrocute your pet so that they'll talk, and I looked up at Carl and it was like -- wow. My cat -- my cat Carl -- turns out to be the best friend I ever had.

Cool.

Very, very cool.

© 2005 Suzie Plakson