AN: Happy New Year y'all, take... whatever this is.
It was a bright and sunny mid-morning at Jefferson County Middle School, and the sound of raucous meowing filled the air from the cat show being held in the gymnasium. Surprisingly, in a way that normally wouldn't be surprising but it's amazing what people can get used to, the sound of destruction was nowhere to be heard. All in all, just another ordinary weekend.
That is, until the sound of barking joined the rest of the cacophony.
A cream-coloured dog with brown spots ran into the gymnasium, attracting the ire of all the nearby cats. This dog was a familiar sight around the neighbourhood, as was the boy running after him, and the destruction that followed them both.
The boy wore a striped sweater vest, carrying a deceptively heavy backpack on his shoulders as he ran after his dog. Looking at him, it was impossible to tell that his backpack held a full-size ship anchor. "Diogee!" he yelled, but the dog didn't stop. Not until he reached the judging table.
Behind them, a supposedly escape-proof cat cage swung open, letting the frantic cats contained therein escape. This, naturally, caused havoc as they ran for freedom, yowling up a storm. Not a literal storm, of course.
However, because it never pays to tempt fate, a literal storm showed up anyway. This was also completely ordinary. Freak weather was no stranger to the locals.
To the surprise of absolutely no one who recognised the sweater vest boy, and in particular his distinctive Murphy cowlick hair, that was when a bright neon green cow crashed through the ceiling, thus exposing everyone inside to the fury of the sudden springtime storm.
Rain poured through the hole in the roof, accompanied by a bitterly cold wind that carried with it the echo of the winter just gone.
"The forecast said nothing about a storm!" a particularly irate lady shouted, apparently not noticing the cow absconding into the crowd like a ninja. Around her, people who lived in the area simply pulled out their emergency raincoats and umbrellas and continued on their way.
The boy had caught up to his dog by now and stood in front of him, pointing sternly towards the door. "Diogee, go home!"
Diogee's head drooped sadly and he turned around, walking back the way he'd come.
"He's not supposed to be in the cat show," the boy said to the nearest bystander, casual like this was an everyday occurrence. Which, for him, it may as well have been.
Said bystander wasn't listening, as their "precious Puddingpie" was thrashing around in a cage with rage at the audacity of water to come anywhere near his perfectly-groomed fur. All across the gymnasium, other cats who hadn't found their freedom were doing the same. And, surprisingly, a lady's pet beaver.
Except it wasn't so surprising, really. People in this city had a wide assortment of pets, far wider than the usual cat or dog or snake or bird.
Before long the noise reached a peak, somehow blowing out the windows. Although that could have been the storm, which was now strong enough to toss around entire trees, and in fact was doing so with great enthusiasm. Either way, the wind howled through the gaps, and Diogee stopped to howl with it.
Meanwhile, the cats did not stop, and in fact fought even more viciously for freedom. Puddingpie in particular, as soon as his owner wasn't looking, pulled on a stylish 1940s fedora and picked the lock. Then, thanks to some faulty wiring that just happened to exist in the cages, every remaining cage opened. The cats (and beaver) inside, sensing freedom, ran for it, disappearing through the shattered windows into what they apparently hadn't realised was more rain.
Before long, the only small furry animal left in the entire gymnasium was Diogee the dog.
The judges, realising this, hurriedly conferred amongst themselves. Then they all stood, striding over to the sweater vest boy. The lead judge, a local cat enthusiast, held out a hand. "Mister..."
"Milo Murphy," the boy supplied.
"Mister Milo Murphy, we'd like to award you this trophy for best cat in show."
Milo automatically took the trophy when it was passed to him, brows furrowing. "But Diogee's not a-"
"Milo!" a girl yelled, running into the gymnasium, her bright orange hair not even slightly damp. Behind her, a dark-haired boy was completely soaked, through the power of what some may consider Murphy's Law.
(And they'd be right.)
The remaining crowd parted as they slid to a halt next to Milo Murphy, panting for breath. "We got the tree cleared up," the girl began, "but- Milo? What is that?" She pointed at the trophy Milo held, which instead of a cup bore a statue of a cat's posterior with the tail raised.
"My beautiful gymnasium!" the school's coach wailed melodramatically from the corner, unable to even look at all of the destruction. Somehow, it was worse than an ordinary school day, even with the rain having stopped by now. The gymnasium was in ruins. "It's a-"
Milo grinned broadly for the audience his earlier entrance had attracted. "It's a cat ass trophy!"