Author's Note:
There are a few things I need to tell you in order to better enjoy the following story:
I wrote this story with the original London recording of Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer in mind. Therefore they are not quite as immature or silly as they are in later productions, including the video.
With the exception of characters created and personified in the play, I stick mostly to the original poems and try to avoid fanon. Therefore, the Cats do not live in the Junkyard, Jellylorum is a younger queen, Macavity is not a mutant red beast, and catnip is not a drug – it is similar to snuff.
I call Macavity "Professor" because he is based off of the Sherlock Holmes character James Moriarty, who is a professor. I also opted to make him more genteel, which somehow seems more dangerous.
I also incorporated some nice lines from Eliot's other poems, maybe you can find them! ;)
This story was originally written in 2007/2008 for my sister's now-closed Mungojerrie shrine. I thought I'd post it here so that those who didn't get a chance originally can read it now, so plsease be kind and leave a review! :P
-X-
Hold tight, hold tight, we must insist that the world is what we have always taken it to be.
– T.S. Eliot
OF HEROES AND THIEVES
Chapter One
Prospects of Notoriety
This story outlines the process through which a thief became a hero, in a little more than a week. Of course a thief is not generally the first selection, nor most of the time should he be. He is not aptly calculated to be a hero. But even a criminal may have heroic intentions, or a noble feeling stirring in his breast, and such was the case with Mungojerrie the calico Cat, the same Mungojerrie that was the masculine half of the notorious duo, Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer.
Perhaps it was not noble intentions, but a lack of variety that drove him to do it. After all, every morning was almost exactly the same. Mother would rush into the room, carrying her slippers; Father would rush into the room, with a report on the breakfast; the girls would rush into the room, with their recently broken toys, and they would all confront each other with the bad news.
"Mother, my ballerina was knocked off the shelf! It's broken! It was that horrible Cat!"
"Mildred, the kippers are missing off the table – did Cook forget to set them out?"
"Dear, they were there five minutes ago!"
"Well they aren't there now!"
"Oh, it was Mungojerrie!"
"Or Rumpelteazer."
"What color ribbon was it wearing?"
"Who?"
"The Cat, child!"
"They never wear their ribbons, mother, they always manage to claw them off!"
"They wouldn't steal breakfast if you children would feed them!"
"It's not their job to feed the Cats, Jack, that's your job!"
"Very well my having to feed the Cats when I was not the one to ask for them!"
"You gave them to us for Christmas!"
And thus it all went round, and entirely off-subject, until the father blamed the children, and the children blamed the father, and the mother blamed the Cat; and still no one chanced to see the little calico thief sneak out the back Cat-door, slink down the flight of stairs, and high-tail it into the basement with his latest catch.
The Morning It All Began was a Sunday in the English autumn. The house inVictoria Grove, a long-established house in a longer-established neighborhood, had suffered its usual casualities that morning, but the day went on just as it always did. A pale sunlight shone through the ground-level windows of the basement, throwing square patches of light onto the dusty floor. These spots were particularly inviting, and Rumpelteazer knew it. She had already completed her morning duties, shoved the Cat bed into the light, and was now sprawled out to all the corners of it, dead asleep, and having her tummy warmed comfortably by the sun.
Mungojerrie, upon returning, kicked her in the side.
He wasn't very gentle.
"Wake up, you dingbat, and look at what I've got."
"Aw, shut up, Jerrie, five more minutes." Our main character had no patience with his sister, and launched another kick, which sent her tumbling out of the Cat bed onto the other side. She picked herself up, dusted herself off, and scowled at him.
These Cats were East-Enders, and therefore lacked the lingual grace of their owners. They were picked up as kittens from a pet store during the family's holiday, and presented to the girls the next morning. If the family knew of the Reign of Terror that was to follow, they might have thought twice about bringing the calico twins into their home.
"What would you have done if it wasn't me and some villain?" Mungojerrie quizzed his sister sternly, as he began to unpack their breakfast. Rumpelteazer never would listen to him, even though he was far more experienced in criminal matters.
"I woulda shot ya," Rumpelteazer answered, smartly.
"They don't make Cat-sized firearms."
"Oh, then, I woulda run," Rumpelteazer nodded. Feeling she had won the conversation, and being of a naturally generous nature, she made over his steal, and in tolerable spirits they sat down to an early breakfast, with the milk Rumpelteazer had "nicked", so to speak, from off the front porch.
"It's a good thing we figured out how to get those ribbons off our necks," Mungojerrie began, with his mouth full, and Rumpelteazer nodded vigorously. The ribbons had been a pathetic attempt by the humans to identify the wicked Cats at the scene of the crime; unfortunately the ribbons were no match for Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer.
"Yeah, I 'eard 'em sayin', 'If it is a pink one, it is the girl, and if it is a blue one, it is the boy," Rumpelteazer said in perfect imitation. "Sissy ribbons."
"Especially for me! I'm a tom! But ya have to remember, humans just don't think of those things," Mungojerrie said, licking the oil off his paws mournfully. "They don't even got 'nough sense to know 'at two Cats who are clearly brother and sister can't share the same cushion without the other Cats thinking things."
That was certainly true, and annoying; it was known perfectly well that the partners would occasionally disguise their familial relationship, but only in accordance to a heist – sometimes being "mates" on the surface was more useful than being siblings. Heck, Rumpelteazer was often thin enough to be disguised as a tom, and once even, Mungojerrie had grown his whiskers out and pretended to be Rumpelteazer's father. But it still didn't keep the unwanted rumors from flying around, because Cats gossip almost as much as humans. At the thought of this, the two fell silent, a rare occasion.
Mungojerrie often became thoughtful while eating, and this was especially true with brined kippers. He turned to his sister. "Rumpelteazer," he began confidingly, to see if she was listening. She wasn't. "Rumpelteazer!"
"'Ey, watch it, Jerrie! Say it already!"
Rumpelteazer righted her dish of milk, and looked at him with fake interest. That was good enough for Mungojerrie. "This might sound kinda stupid, Rumpelteazer," he warned her.
"It probably will," agreed Rumpelteazer encouragingly. "Now go on."
"I keep feelin' like I wanna break outta the box," he said passionately. "I wanna do somethin' grand. A big heist. Somethin' that'll put me name in the 'istory books!"
"What about yesterday?"
Mungojerrie mentally ran through his list of the previous day's crimes. "I stole a can of tuna," was all he could recall.
"But," said his sister, pointedly, "it was Alaskan tuna."
"That ain't what I'm talkin' about, Rumpelteazer! I'm gonna do somethin' that'll make Macavity say, 'Mungojerrie, you're my hero!' I wanna go out with a bang! I wanna be a hero!"
Rumpelteazer considered this. His story had moved her, literally, as she was now sitting next to him and petting him consolingly. "And to think," she wailed, "you might've 'ad a fightin' chance if our mother 'and't got 'it by a car, and father didn't try to eat us."
Mungojerrie nodded sadly. (I don't know if that was true, but Rumpelteazer believed it, and Mungojerrie suspected it, so it is true for the purposes of this story.)
A sudden little scratching at the door interrupted Mungojerrie's reverie, and Rumpelteazer swiftly hurled the stolen goods beneath an old desk. "Who could this be so early?" she asked, warily, but judging by the fretful little tapping Mungojerrie made an astute deduction. "I think I 'ave an idea…" He knocked open the Cat door and came face to face with a dully-colored tom.
"What do you want, Jonathan?"
At the sudden appearance of the fearsome Mungojerrie, Jonathan seemed to forget what he was going to say. He looked behind him, as if something were going to get him, and he looked into the room, as if something was going to get him, and then he spat. There were certain "jobs" Jonathan had done, and certain "punishments" he had gone through, which made Jonathan act kinda…odd. He was Macavity's most faithful henchcat. Not the most appreciated, but most faithful nonetheless. Despite Jonathan's usefulness, he never dared complain to Macavity, and it was fun to boss him around. But today he had a bit more confidence, because he had been sent on a mission.
"You two having a moment?" asked Jonathan with the authority he almost never had.
"Shut up, Jonathan," the siblings said, putting him into place.
Jonathan crept inside and regarded them both, trying to regain his influence. "Well something must have made you forget that Professor Macavity wanted you today."
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer glanced at each other, concerned. Jonathan was wringing his paws, but looking very smug; Mungojerrie would have wiped that look off his face if he were not panicking. "Is 'e mad at us, Jon?" Mungojerrie asked, anxiously.
Just the thought of Macavity being angry scared the yellowish henchcat. "No…uh…I don't think so….but you'd better come on."
Mungojerrie nodded. "Roight. Come on Rum – where are you?" His sister had gone without a trace.
"Be there in a minute! I wanna look seductive for Macavity!" Rumpelteazer was under the impression that she was the most desirable queen in London, and that she was doing the Napoleon of Crime a favor by flirting with him. Mungojerrie, however, knew better.
"What are you doin'?" he groaned.
"I'm lookin' for me pearls. You took em!"
"I did not!"
"Yes, you did, because they ain't 'ere!"
"Can we please…uh…hurry this up?" Jonathan cried, getting more frightened by the minute.
By this time Mungojerrie had worked his way back to the stash. "If you weren't a broad I'd kick you right in the stomach," he growled, and yanked Rumpelteazer away from her search and without her pearls. She protested all the way, but when Jonathan opened the door and the three of them stepped into the sun, she shut up and went along like the good thief she was.
It was very odd that Macavity would request to see them. He rarely saw anyone himself, usually referring them to other agents. It wasn't even very often that Mungojerrie or Rumpelteazer did jobs for Macavity. Their line of business was theivery and the rare heist, and Macavity usually had his own personal operations to deal with. But occasionally he would seek their services; after all, they were quite notorious. In fact, it was on a job for Macavity that Mungojerrie got his scar – a three-centimeter gash on his poor right paw, a result of when reconnaisance got ugly. It didn't bother him, he was rather proud of it, but he had to keep it hidden, because it was a distinguishing mark that could identify him if he wanted to remain unknown.
It took some walk to get to Macavity's centre of operation. Though the twins lived in a swanky neighborhood themselves, the human who owned Macavity was wealthier, and his house was several streets down. Macavity once lived with a professor, who had retired from teaching but found entertainment in other occupations. He met his untimely end in Switzerland, and left Macavity not much more than a stray. Whether this loss fueled Macavity's great criminal mind, or whether he merely operated for the fun of it, that Cat was certainly the instigator behind all the infamous crimes in London.
Because he had no relatives who wished to claim it, the house in which the human had lived was shut down and boarded-up some years ago. It had fallen into disrepair; the shutters hung on the hinges, the curtains were faded, the lawn had grown up around the fence, and the nameplate had become tarnished and dull. It was an unlovely spot in a row of perfect houses, and I have a feeling the neighbors probably complained. One nice facet of the dingy house was that, where there originally had been no door for the feline member of the family, there was now a large gap. Jonathan crept in through it, then Mungojerrie, then Rumpelteazer, who hacked and coughed from the dust.
The inside wasn't much different from the outside – a thick silence, broken occasionally by someone coming out of a room and creaking on the floorboards, and leaving pawprints in the dust. Mungojerrie thought it sort of looked like their house; he didn't realize that a house run entirely by Cats has a very abnormal atmosphere. He didn't recognize any of the Strays going about their work, but that was nothing exceptional. He was very bad with faces. He might spot someone the day before, but on the next meeting he had entirely forgotten them. Probably he wouldn't even have remembered Rumpelteazer if there wasn't the family resemblance.
Jonathan greeted a few fellow henchcats, made a few swift turns, and began to lead the partners through the dark corridor. It got darker and darker the farther down they went, and Mungojerrie wondered distantly why no one had ever opened the drapes. The Strays apparently did a whole lot of climbing on them, judging by the claw-shredded fabric, but it was never with the intention of letting in the light. He noticed Rumpelteazer shivered, which he thought was rather cowardly; he focused his attention on following Jonathan, and finding him in the shadows. But even Mungojerrie stood up and straightened his collar when they paused at the door of the library, which was where Macavity made his office.
Rumors had spread about the Napoleon of Crime, some of them true, most of them fantastic, all of them spread by former henchcats or lady-friends. Consequently, it had gotten around that Macavity was a brainless brute who could disappear at will and fly. (And it is true, that particular rumor was what got Mungojerrie working for him in the first place, and the hopes he could learn too. He soon found out the sad truth that levitation simply meant "jumping incredibly high".) But except when Macavity was wearing one of his extravagant ruby-red "disguises" (he had a flair for the theatric), or when he was in a particular rage, he was quite dignified and always very quiet.
At the moment, Jonathan was heaving deep breaths and wouldn't open the door, so Mungojerrie did it. Macavity was standing by a fire when they entered. "Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, sir," Jonathan squeaked, and hurriedly ducked out of the room. Though there was no need for a fire at ten o'clock in the morning, and certainly not on a crisp day like this, Professor Macavity was evidently very much preoccupied by the blaze. He stood there, staring at it for minutes.
He continued to stare at it for more minutes.
Eventually, the minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, and he still stood there, quiet and contemplative, and completely ignoring the partners in crime.
Rumpelteazer shifted. "Does he know we're 'ere?" she whispered at length, with one eye on her brother and the other carefully watching the Cat by the fire.
"I think so," Mungojerrie answered, but he was doubtful. They looked at each other, and looked at the Napoleon of Crime. Mungojerrie screwed up his courage.
"'Scuse me, Macavity…sir?"
"What?" His back was still to the fire. The partners looked at each other again.
"What did you want us…for?" Mungojerrie asked.
"Pardon?"
"You wanted to see us, sir," Mungojerrie explained. Macavity finally turned around.
"Why, Mungojerrie," he said, low in his throat, "you don't very well expect me to carry on a conversation with Rumpelteazer in the room, considering she has nothing whatsoever to do with the task at hand." He glared at her, then turned back to the fire.
Rumpelteazer looked stricken. "I can go, you know. I'll go now. I'm going." You're gonna miss me, she thought. But she meekly turned tail and crept out of the room.
Of course that did not keep her from shoving Jonathan out of the way and peeping beneath the door.
It was only now that Mungojerrie became unnerved; he felt extraordinarily alone without Rumpelteazer, in the big room, with the bright fire and the Cat that matched it. He heard a scuffling sound far away, a sound he couldn't identify, and he gulped.
Macavity turned around again, but it took a minute for him to focus on the notorious thief. "Please take a seat, my boy," he hissed.
Mungojerrie took a seat.
"Thank you," Macavity said, sitting down himself, and taking a delicate pinch of some very good catnip.
"Now then, wha' did you want, sir?" Mungojerrie asked, trying to be businesslike and easy, but failing miserably at both.
Macavity opened his mouth to say something when that same scuffling noise came from the same far away part of the house. Mungojerrie looked that way, but Macavity either didn't hear it or simply ignored it. Or maybe all the smoke was beginning to dull his senses.
"Do you hear that?" asked Mungojerrie.
"Hear what?" asked Macavity, blandly.
"It's a scuttlin' sound, out in the 'allway."
"I don't hear anything." Macavity stared at him. "Did you hear something?"
"I thought I did," faltered Mungojerrie, and turned his head to look at the smoke rolling joyously out of the fireplace.
"Well, no matter. It bears no effect on what I have to tell you. Mungojerrie, my boy, I have a job for you. An important job. A job I cannot trust to anyone else."
In other circumstances, Mungojerrie might have wondered what kind of special job this was, and why Macavity hadn't selected a more familiar colleague to carry it out. But our calico friend was too hung on the word "important", and how that might relate to the word "hero", to think prudently of this or of anything else. Macavity noticed this as well, and went on with his speech. "It's very simple, really. All I need you to do is deliver a note to one of my friends, who will be waiting on the corner of the street."
Mungojerrie watched, raptly, as Macavity leapt onto the mantelpiece to retrieve an envelope – to you or I, it would be used to send a cordial letter, but to a Cat it was the size of a confidential package. He showed this envelope to Mungojerrie. "You see. Harmless, really."
"It's important?" Mungojerrie asked, making sure he had heard correctly.
"Of course," answered Macavity, as if it were only to be expected.
"I 'and this envelope," Mungojerrie repeated, slowly, "to a bloke on the sidewalk?"
"More or less."
"That's it?"
"Yes. Sometimes it takes just a little job to get big things accomplished," Macavity said. "That was a very good quote, don't you think? I shall have to get Jonathan to write that one down, yes?"
"Yeah…sure. Say," Mungojerrie realized, suddenly, "why didn't you want Rumpelteazer in the room?"
"The job is too big," said Macavity, "for such a bit of a girl."
"If the job is so big," Mungojerrie went on, examining all the angles, "then why would you do it in the middle of the street? Isn't that kinda risky?"
"Mungojerrie. Dear boy," Macavity chuckled. "We must always take risks. That is our destiny."
That was probably true. Mungojerrie thought he should write that one down, too. "Oh, yeah. Is that all you wanted, professor?"
"Hmm?" Macavity had already turned back to his fire. "Oh yes, you may go. That was all I had to say to you. Come back here at ten till six o'clock, to get your instructions."
Mungojerrie nodded, and sidled out of the room. He crept down the hallway and into the parlour of the great house, where he found his sister shooting craps with about four other Toms. She jumped up as soon as she saw him.
"What did 'e say?" she demanded.
"What are you doing?" Mungojerrie asked, surveying the game.
"It doesn't matter what the ruddy 'eck I'm doin', tell me what he said!"
"I can't, what with these chaps around," said Mungojerrie, looking at his fellows with contempt.
"Well, I've as good as won anyway. I 'ave too!" she shouted at one protestor. "And you owe me four socks by Friday," she added threateningly to one brown tabby. "Come on, Mungojerrie…'ey, what's the row?"
Mungojerrie pulled Rumpelteazer into the hallway, his green eyes glowing with excitement.
"What?" Rumpelteazer asked impatiently.
"Macavity wants me to do a special job. It's a big one. Important."
Rumpelteazer clutched his arm, easily caught up in her brother's excitement. "Really? That's just what you was talking about this morning!"
Mungojerrie nodded, grinning.
"What do we have to do?" his sister asked.
Mungojerrie paused. "Oh…uh…well it's kinda dangerous. Really more of a one-Cat job, Rumpelteazer."
She realized then. "Oh. You mean just you?"
Mungojerrie nodded again. She was silent for a while, thinking.
"But we're partners!" she protested finally. "You can't just go off on your own!"
"I actually can," Mungojerrie said.. "I did for a while. It was only recently you starting palling around."
"That ain't right!" She was trying to look defiant, but she was really quite hurt, and Mungojerrie noticed it, which bothered him. "We're partners!"
"Well it's nothin' excitin', anyway," Mungojerrie admitted. "Just 'andin' a envelope to another covey."
Rumpelteazer still didn't trust him. She opened her mouth to say something else, but her nose twitched instead. She drew in a large breath, then peered down the hall. "Mungojerrie, do you smell smoke?"
"Oh no," Mungojerrie moaned, remembering the fire. Her eyes grew big, and Mungojerrie's eyes grew big, and both of them rushed down the corridor. They found thick smoke seeping out from beneath the doorway of the library.
The partners shouldered their way in. The room was as full of smoke as a street may be full of fog, but Macavity either didn't notice or didn't care, but was there, staring at the fire as before. The smoke swirled around his head, and with his bright ginger fur he looked very like the flame himself.
"Macavity, the chimney's on fire!" Rumpelteazer shrieked, as Mungojerrie looked desperately for a way to stamp it out.
"Oh yes," Macavity said calmly. "It can be very troublesome sometimes. Then all you can do is to put it out."
Rumpelteazer looked despairingly at Mungojerrie, who, in a quick burst of thought, pulled the curtain from the window and flung it over the fire. He stamped on it and so did his sister. The fire sputtered, and guttered, and then went out, leaving only a glowing coal which Macavity carefully kicked into the fireplace.
Macavity looked over his shoulder, and Mungojerrie trembled. But Macavity was apparently pleased. "Oh Mungojerrie, I just knew you could at least begin to extinguish that old flame. Very noble. Of course, I don't need to put it out just yet…" He studied the thief for a moment, with a pair of sharp golden eyes. "Yes, Mungojerrie – you are exactly the person to trust with my little job."
"Looks like you're a 'ero already," Rumpelteazer muttered sourly, though she was still shaking from fear. Mungojerrie patted her consolingly. He had to agree that the prospects were promising.
If only he knew the meaning of the word!
