Who Let the Dogma Out (The Elven Prophecy Book 1) by Theophilus Monroe & Michael Anderle

Author:Theophilus Monroe & Michael Anderle [Monroe, Theophilus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2021-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

The drive back to St. Louis was awkward. If it hadn’t been for Agnus singing “the doggone girl is mine,” the Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney duet from Jackson’s Thriller album, the whole drive probably would have been silent.

I had to admit, while I often played the Thriller album when I was feeling nostalgic, I was impressed that Agnus had it memorized. He sang both parts, throwing his voice a little higher on Michael’s verses.

“Doggone?” I asked, interrupting Agnus during his third time through the song. “Isn’t that a bit ironic coming from you?”

“Ironic?” Agnus asked, taking a quick break from singing to answer my question. “That’s exactly the way I like dogs best. Gone!”

“I do not know this song,” Hector said.

Layla rolled her eyes. “You need education in Earth culture. Michael Jackson was the first man to walk on the moon.”

I laughed out loud. “No, that was Neil Armstrong. Michael Jackson was the first one to do the moonwalk.”

Layla shrugged. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No,” I said, still chuckling through my words. “The moonwalk was a dance. They called it that because there’s no gravity on the moon, and the way Michael did it defied gravity. It was brilliant.”

“Brilliant?” Agnus asked. “I could do that dance.”

“I’d like to see that! On all four paws?” I asked.

“I’d put Michael to shame. They’d call my dance the catwalk.”

I smiled, calling to mind another old-time reference. “You’d do your little turn on the catwalk?”

“I’m too sexy,” Agnus quipped back, lowering his voice a few octaves, clearly picking up on my Right Said Fred reference. “I’d shake my little tush on the catwalk.”

I glanced at Layla. The look of confusion on her face was priceless. As lost as I’d been when she and Hector were discussing eleven politics, she was the confused one now, even though she was a supposed expert on Earth culture.

It struck me, given Agnus’ knowledge of eighties and nineties music, I’d probably overexposed him to the music of my youth during his days as a kitten. That meant that the music of my childhood was also the music of his kittenhood.

Technically, though, I came of age during the era of nineties alternative. Michael did the moonwalk a few years before I was born. Of course, when Right Said Fred released I’m too Sexy, I was only seven. I had no idea what the song meant at the time, but that never stopped me from singing it in my bedroom mirror using the cardboard tube of a toilet paper roll as a microphone.

Our little intermission did nothing to dissuade Agnus from resuming his serenade. It was no surprise that the moment we parked outside my apartment, Hector was out of the car faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Hector said. “But if you haven’t spoken to your father by then, I will have to report the status of the mission.”

“Understood,” Layla said, holding Agnus in her arms as she bumped the passenger door with her hip to close it.

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