With the Grace of a Cat
By: SquigglyDot
Visualize the Jellicles as actual cats, please and thank you
Disclaimer: All rights to T.S. Elliot and Andrew Lloyd Webber- I own nothing
With the Grace of a Cat
Humiliation
With an exaggerated sigh, the Rum Tum Tugger shifted into what should have been a more comfortable position. His day hadn't gone exactly as planned; he was surely suffering for it now and reflecting back was distressing.
So he'd gotten into a little scuffle outside of the Junkyard – that didn't call for this.
The Maine Coon's spiked collar was taken from him immediately upon his return home. His beautiful spikes were replaced by a trip to the vet and a large plastic cone. It tugged at his mane uncomfortably and prevented him from reaching the irritating wound that adorned his left hind leg.
Tugger pawed at the plastic and let out a pathetic groan. Had he just been given a chance to clean it out there would be no problem and he wouldn't have to be humiliated like this.
Attempts at eating ended with food scattered across the kitchen floor and it was impossible to catch anything if left to his own devices. Usually one to enjoy playing games; Tugger was thoroughly fed up with this one.
Retreating towards the master bedroom, he passed his family's full-length mirror. Letting out a frustrated howl, Tugger rushed from the hall, wanting only to curl up under the bed and hide for a year. To add insult to injury, the cone only aided him into hitting the corner of a nearby wall. Cursing, he corrected his path and dove for the bed. Again, the cone fought him – he could not fit under the frame to seek refuge.
No… there was no way Tugger would be going to the Junkyard anytime soon.
Innocence
Munkustrap let out a deep breath as he relished in the beautiful day. He was leisurely making his way towards the vicarage wall to speak with Old Deuteronomy and couldn't even pretend that things were going bad.
The kittens were well behaved, Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had decided to cut back on their usual antics for the time, and the Rum Tum Tugger was having a lazy weekend. Macavity was nowhere to be seen; there hadn't even been a whisper of a threat. No – things were going well.
Suddenly, the tom's fur was on end. It was a feelings usually reserved for an attack on the tribe, a missing kitten, or Tugger's mischief.
In a split second the silver tabby was scooped into the arms of a small child. She squealed and giggled as her grip tightened in a delightful hug.
Munkustrap gasped for air but couldn't bring himself to claw her for his freedom. Small hands passed roughly over his head as he prayed for her to tire soon. Unfortunately, she held out longer then he had expected and was hanging uncomfortably from his armpits as she continued the death-grip of an embrace.
When she finally bored of the silver Jellicle, the child gently sat him down and patted his head with a huge grin. Even as she danced away Munkustrap sighed.
His fur was ruffled, his whiskers bent, but the girl was happy – today was still a beautiful day.
Obstacles
The latest heist had been a success. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had taken on the task of bringing down the new neighbors of Victoria Grove. With stealth known only to the notorious cat burglars, they weaseled their way passed the Pollicle guard, and had let loose on the expansive house.
Any jewelry lying about was immediately swiped by the troublemaking Jellicles along with any other shiny objects of interest. With enthusiasm, the kitchen was quickly raided, tasty tidbits disappearing from the countertops.
Having returned to their "center of operation", the two were soon cuddling together on a King-sized mattress of their family's master bedroom. It was an extravagant feeling, being surrounded by their loot as they lounged about on the plush cushions.
Mungojerrie soon found himself dozing off, Rumpelteazer's warm form curled up against his back. His eyes fluttered shut and the tom fought the increasing urge to fall fast asleep. It was a battle he was quickly loosing.
The overhead light clicked on, their human standing in the doorway.
Startled, Jerrie bolted. Only, he can't seem to recall when that wall appeared before him. One moment he was leaping from the mattress, the next, he had collided face first with the pastel painted barrier. Pain shot through his nose as he crumpled to the ground between the wall and the bed.
His eyes watered and he let out an exaggerated groan as Rumpelteazer giggled from the mattress above him. Sometimes it seemed that their lifestyle had them a little too high strong but Mungojerrie knew it would be a while before the queen let this incident slide.
Ensnared
Today was a great day for moping in the Jellicle Junkyard. It seemed that nobody wanted to play with the ever-energetic tom kitten. So Pouncival had curled up on an old dishwasher to pout.
There was a cold gust of wind that soon sent several loose papers flying and a shiver down his spine. He tucked his tail against his body in a small attempt to keep warm.
A clamor behind him sent the tom leaping as a pile of junk toppled on to his former resting spot. From the top, small tissues box clattered all the way down, nearly hitting him as he scurried out of the way.
Stupid box! Pouncival continued to pout as he glared at it. How dare it try to hit him!
Crouching low, the kitten inched towards his nemesis, maneuvering so that he'd be able to avoid any of it's sudden attacks – it was a kill or be killed world… or so he'd heard. Pouncing atop the box after it shimmied in another light breeze, the tom froze.
It had him!
Shaking his head wildly, Pouncival hoped to release himself from its heinous grip but to no avail. He pawed at it fruitlessly. The box held strong. With a yelp, the tom stumbled back only to discover a solid body behind him. Panicking, he frantically pulled himself away from the unseen foe. In a moment the box popped off of his head, freeing his ears and liberating his crinkled whiskers.
Landing roughly on his bottom, the kitten glanced up. Tumblebrutus was standing above him, an ear-to-ear grin plastered on his face, and the offending tissues box under his arm. Pouncival crinkled his nose in a pout.
"Don't you dare tell anyone about this!"
Adam's Ale
The sun was beating down heavily upon the inhabitants of Scotland Yard – it was going to be another hot day. The maintenance manager of the Junkyard had been so kind to set out plenty of fresh water for the resident Jellicles and they were lapping it up.
Alonzo looked up at the bright blue sky, amazed that all evidence of the merciless storms that had rocked them only days before was now completely gone. In its stead was this heat.
Munkustrap leapt on to the makeshift tire stage the moment a light shade enveloped it. Kittens gathered together to watch the storyteller and many others interests had been piqued. A grand tale was in the works.
With the moment of peace, Alonzo allowed himself some time to slip away. There was an excellent tub for sunbathing, it caught the light on its porcelain walls perfectly, so the black and white tom headed for it – a quick nap in mind.
The tub came into view, its elegant, lion-claw legs glinting in the sun. The Jellicle hurried towards it using an old trunk as a stepping-stone before leaping into it.
Alonzo sputtered and gasped, shocked to find that the tub had filled with water. He clawed desperately at the sides, unable to get a grip on the smooth, drenched surface. Mustering all of his strength, he pulled himself up, and the tom stumbled onto the dirt flooring of the Junkyard in a large puddle.
Soaking wet, Alonzo let out a low growl. He hadn't gotten his sunbath but he was most defiantly cleaner now.
So much for relaxing…
Kitten
The small ball of yellow yarn sat in the middle of the living room rug, taunting him. With a growl, the tom pouted at it as he contemplated his next move. Slyly glancing about, it was duly noted that there was not a single presence nearby. He would not be spotted.
Throwing caution to the wind, the tom pounced on the ball, batting it about the room with kitten-like glee. In moments, the yellow string wrapped him up, and he was purring as he rolled on to his back, stretching to reach the shrinking ball.
There was a light feeling in his chest, overjoyed as he simply let loose to play. It had been so long since he could just relax: so much responsibility, so much which needed to be done. The end of the yarn evaded him and he hopped sideways to catch it once more. The ball rolled from him in the opposite direction, quickly unraveling, and he chased after it with enthusiasm.
The lamp was a casualty in his games as the tom soon apprehended to ball, lavishing in being so awesome.
"Macavity!" his human gasped, investigating the earlier crash.
The ginger fiend froze. There was no way to look dignified bundled in yellow yarn like a young kit.
He let out a low growl – no one can know of this!