Chet The Dog

Posts Tagged ‘The Iggy Chronicles’

Beginnings

On Sundays we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker™. In the Chet and Bernie book I’m writing now (which will come after Mrs. Plansky’s Revenge – not a C&B but perhaps enjoyable anyway – and Up on the Woof Top) Iggy has just made an appearance. Iggy’s Chet’s best pal and lives next door with the Parsons. He’s featured in two short stories, The Iggy Papers and The Iggy Chronicles, both available from all the usual digital and audio source, and the beginning of which follows. (Mrs. P and Woof Top are available for preorder, by the way.)

Old Mr. Parsons knocked on our door. I was lying in the front hall, eyes closed and not really in the mood to open them even though Mr. Parsons was a good buddy. Mr. Parsons had a knock all his own, quiet yet bony, but I’d already known it was him just from the slow bumpitty bump of his steps – he used a walker, couldn’t make it much easier for me than that – and of course how could you miss his old man smell, kind of like stacks of yellowed crumbing newspapers we’d once toppled over, me and Bernie, revealing a perp whose name escapes me – although no perp ever escapes me and Bernie, not in the end – and … and where were we going with this? Easy to lose the thread sometimes: once I had one caught way up inside my mouth. It dangled down and tickled my tongue in a bothersome way. But not now: no thread worries, no worries of any kind. A lovely dream featuring snacks and treats was getting ready to take me in.

Mr. Parsons knocked again. “Bernie?” he called through the door. “You there?”

 

What’s In A Name?

Mrs. Publicist: Not the fifteenth of the month, when we discuss names, but let’s play catch up. You’ve mentioned, Pete, how important names are to you, and that you actually can’t write the character until you have the right name. How about this month we talk about Iggy, Chet’s best pal, who plays – what would you call it? – a supporting role in Bark To The Future, the next Chet and Bernie novel. Coming August 9 but available for pre-order? As the publicist may I say I encourage preorders?

Pete: Ah, Iggy. A writer you has to be careful with characters like Iggy. They like the spotlight and would take over the whole book unless restrained. As for his name, I’m not the first artist (for want of a better word) to fall for its appeal. In that I stand on the shoulders of Jim Osterberg, Jr. And may I recommend in passing Jim’s duet with Francoise Hardy on I’ll Be Seeing You.

Mrs. P: And what is the appeal of the name Iggy?

Pete: For me, the appeal was that the character came fully formed as soon as the name popped into my mind. Iggy’s all about id, lack of restraint, totally unselfconscious goofiness and yearning.

Mrs. P: And then to have him pretty much shut inside the Parsons’s house for the whole series, watching Chet through the window?

Pete: Makes the odd moment when they do get together –

Mrs. P: Like the bathroom scene in The Dog Who Knew Too Much?

Pete: – all the more explosive.

Mrs. P: Thanks, Pete. Iggy appears by the way in the digital short story below.

Fritzie Bortz (More)

I believe last week we promised more of Fritzie Bortz, a recurring character in the Chet and Bernie series (who may surprise you in the next novel, Bark to the Future, coming in August). Here’s Fritzie meeting old Mr. Parsons in the hospital in the e-short story The Iggy Chronicles, Volume 1:

“Our friend Daniel Parsons,” Bernie said. “Fritzie Bortz, highway patrol, motorcycle division.”

Mr. Parsons and Fritzie shook hands. “Hurt in the line of duty?” Mr. Parsons said, nodding in the direction of Fritzie’s walking boot.

Fritzie nodded. “Gotta keep the nation’s highways safe,” he said. “Lifeblood of the economy.”

“What happened?” Bernie said.

“Skidded on a greasy fast-food wrapper,” Fritzie said. “Lost control momentarily.” Easy to believe: Fritzie was a terrible biker, had caused many accidents.

“In the parking lot at Burger Heaven?” Bernie said.

“Just exiting,” said Fritzie. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” said Bernie.

“Still managed to bust the asshole.”

“What asshole?”

“Who dropped the wrapper,” Fritzie said. “Got him on a 74-31C.”

“What’s that?”

“Littering. But a real suspicious character, Bernie, dressed all in black – plus he had his collar on backwards, probably some new gangbanger thing, like with the ball caps.”

“Good job,” Bernie said.

Beginnings

On Sunday we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker™. How about today we do The Iggy Chronicles, Volume 1 (one of the Chet and Bernie e-short stories), since Fritzie Bortz, subject of a post this week, makes an early appearance here.

Old Mr. Parsons knocked on our door. I was lying in the front hall, eyes closed and not really in the mood to open them even though Mr. Parsons was a good buddy. Mr. Parsons had a knock all his own, quiet yet bony, but I’d already known it was him just from the slow bumpitty bump of his steps – he used a walker, couldn’t make it much easier for me than that – and of course how could you miss his old man smell, kind of like stacks of yellowed crumbing newspapers we’d once toppled over, me and Bernie, revealing a perp whose name escapes me – although no perp ever escapes me and Bernie, not in the end – and … and where were we going with this? Easy to lose the thread sometimes: once I had one caught way up inside my mouth. It dangled down and tickled my tongue in a bothersome way. But not now: no thread worries, no worries of any kind. A lovely dream featuring snacks and treats was getting ready to take me in.