Authors Note: Look, new story. I came up with this while trying to sleep the other night and wrote it when i got home from work at around two this morning. It is a oneshot, let me know what you think, reviews are nice. Why do I always get ideas at the worst possible times, like in the middle of my exams and just before i fall asleep, when i cannot possibly write them. Anyway over to Griddlebone.
Anyone Can be Fooled By a Pretty Face
Growltiger? Yes, I remember him. Everyone has heard of him, he was the 'Terror of the Thames' after all. Most know the story of how he died, thanks to that play that those Jellicles do, but dear old Jellylorum gets me completely wrong.
I never loved Growltiger. What self-respecting queen could? He was ugly – missing an eye and an ear, that torn and seedy coat and that permanent scowl on his face. He needed a good bath. His language was disgraceful, even for a 'sailor'. No manners whatsoever and a violent temper. Ugh, disgusting. Don't get me started on that crew of his either, filthy bunch of pirates and scoundrels that they were.
Everyone knew of his loathing of foreign cats, particularly the Siamese and the Persians. He denies it, but I know that he started the whole thing by attacking a Siamese trading boat. They were friendly to the English cats, but no, he had to start something. Next thing, there was a huge conflict. The pirates won, but a Siamese got Growltiger's ear. He had sworn vengeance, so the Siamese decided to make a pre-emptive strike. They formed an alliance with the Persians, something that had previously been unheard of, but Growltiger had caused problems for the Persians as well. They needed a distraction, in order to catch him off his guard.
That's where I come in. Pirates at sea get a bit lonely, you see, for the lack of female company. Of course, what warm-blooded tomcat could resist the Lady Griddlebone, the beautiful white Persian queen? The barge was due to arrive at Molesey, and that afternoon they all came ashore. I walked into the pub where they all were, and all eyes turned to me, naturally. I have a knack for making an entrance. I walked straight over to the Bravo Cat and turned on my charm. It took about five minutes to get him under my spell. It was almost too easy. I almost couldn't go through with it; he was repulsive. That slimy creep propositioned me! I wasn't having that. I arranged to meet him that night, under the moon, at the docks. I saw him a few times, over the week, and he fell in love. One night, I asked to see the barge that he travelled on.
We met there, and fortunately, we could be alone. His first mate and the young bosun had gone ashore and the rest of the crew were asleep. We talked and I had his full attention. He thought he had mine, but I am a fantastic actress. He was complacent and blissfully unaware that the Siamese were surrounding us and were preparing their attack.
We did sing a last duet, if you can call it that. I know that Gus and Jellylorum sing a beautiful Italian aria – Il Una Tepida Notte, and do it very well, so I'm told. That is nothing like what we sang on that night. It was something about a dancing, guitar playing parrot or something. What was it again? Oh yes, that's right, The Ballad of Billy McCaw. It wasn't a proper duet; he sang the whole thing. I was left as a backup singer. Of all the nerve! Although, I have to say, I like the sound of that barmaid, Lily La Rose. There's a girl who knew how to deal with men.
As you probably know, after the song all these fireworks went off. Gilbert and his troops stormed aboard the barge and locked the crew in their bunks. We were surrounded. Yes, I did screech and run off, that was part of the plan; the Persian leader didn't want cats to think that we were involved. I was not afraid but a bloody fight to the death is no place for a lady. I did escape with ease, why would they stop me?
Bombalurina and Demeter talk about my wicked deeds, but the way I see it this was a good deed. When the news of Growltiger's demise spread, everyone was happy including the humans. Parties and feasts were thrown in places like Maidenhead and Victoria Dock. There was an entire day of festivities called for in Bangkok. Everyone was glad to see the back of him; he brought it all on himself. I didn't kill him myself; I was just the worm on the hook, so to speak. Horrible analogy I know, but I would make a very pretty worm. I would be gorgeous not matter what animal I was.
What is evil anyway? Maybe I am evil, but you know what? I really don't care. If I hadn't come to London, and done what I did, I would never have met Macavity. They say he is evil too, but well perhaps evil is in the eye of the beholder. Out on the streets, it's all about survival of the fittest, and that's what Macavity and I do. Our ways may be a little, shall we say, unorthodox but they work so why change them? Macavity and I have a lot in common, and I love working with him. I don't regret anything I have done, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
This is my story. Not quite what Jellylorum would have you believe, is it? There is a lesson in all of this. Looks can be deceiving, and remember that theatre is just that. Fake. Anyone can be fooled by a pretty face and a little flattery it's ridiculously easy. My pristine white fur is the colour of innocence, who could suspect me? Anyway if I wasn't innocent, shouldn't I feel guilty or remorseful or something?