Bomba and the Moon Goddess

Bomba and the Moon Goddess

 (An excerpt from Shark Fin Soup by Fred Barnett)

The truth about Bomba the cat’s night journeys was far more believable in the Always-Always Land of Los Angeles than the crazy story about a “baby-eating cat.” 

One night, a twenty-five-thousand-year-old Moon Goddess, named Cynthia; twin of Apollo, daughter of the God Zeus and Leto the daughter of Titans magically appeared! 

Magically!

 The Moon Goddess Cynthia, was also known the Goddess of the Hunt. Her long alabaster legs and short Grecian tunic matched the moon that always followed behind her.  She was nearly invisible against the night sky. Cynthia’s elegant face was framed by braided black hair which sparkled like diamonds beneath the midnight stars.

At 2 a.m., one morning, she had observed the amazing hunting techniques of Bomba the pussycat, while on his nightly rounds. The moonlit huntress, Cynthia followed the fifty-five pounder down the alleys of the sleeping neighborhood as he stalked and devoured four black, giant Gambian rats. The rats were the real infant-eating monsters plaguing the Santa Monica area. Thirty of the thirty-plus pound rodents had been brought into town by MacHeath’s own army of monsters, the so-grey-as-to-be-nearly-invisible henchmen from New Guinea. 

 That evening Cynthia had decided to adopt the fearless, ravenous Bomba as her hunting companion.

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The Moon Goddess rarely took her bow and arrows out of the trunk of her Metallic blue 1961 lowered Chevy Impala convertible anymore. Sad. Instead of cruising for animals to kill, Cynthia spent her endless nights hunting for burgers among the In & Out’s and the various Tommy’s locations. The beautiful 6’6” raven-haired huntress rarely chased game through the forest these days since she had gained fifty-seven pounds and her hips were beginning to bother her.

On this beautiful moonlit night the Goddess and the cat snuck up on a burger stand on the corner of Beverly and Ramparts. 

 They were stalking double-chili-cheeseburgers. 

“Quick Bomba! The game’s afoot!” whispered Cynthia as she scraped the bottom of the Chevy on the curb, showered the pavement with sparks and screeched into the last available parking spot.

They've never cleaned the “Eternal Grill” at Tommy’s. Not once since it was set alight in 1949. God bless their clogged little hearts.

Cheeseburgers, statuesque Goddesses with short tunics and legs that reach to heaven — Don’t forget the really boss wheels. How could Bernie ever win back the love of his sweet kitty? Soon, Bomba would disappear from Bernie’s life altogether.