Disclaimer: If anyone thinks I own either CATS or Shakespeare then they're really stupid. Sorry to offend!
Author's notes: Ok so I'm seriously stuck in a rut with 'Really, Truly' and have suddenly realised how much I've taken on with it (all will be clear in the next update) and thought I'd do a quick oneshot to get me back into a writing state of mind and get some distance. This is just something quick so I apologise if it's no good but I'm quite pleased with it even so. I do apologise if people find it grossly morbid, it wasn't supposed to be; it's supposed to be happy in a hopeful kind of way. Anyway! Enjoy.
The scruffy old tom that was Gus the theatre cat climbed into his basket in the back room of the theatre and plopped down. He could feel sleep slithering towards him but didn't feel ready to accept it just yet; it had been too wonderful a night to end. Instead he contented himself with looking around the room that he shared with the old caretaker of the theatre. How well he knew it. The lurid aquamarine painted brick walls which always gave a feeling of being underwater; the ominous echo gurgling through the shamefully bare pipes; the sparse, grubby furnishings. He could have closed his eyes and imagined everything about it, from the last suspicious stain on the concrete floor to its stale, airless smell.
Gus's eyes swept the tiny room looking for any signs of the caretaker but there were none. He had obviously gone home eventually, leaving the eerily white electric glow of the strip lights on for the frail cat to find his way by, knowing Gus's night vision wasn't what it was. He hadn't needed it though. He knew every inch of the theatre by the feel of the floor beneath his paws and its scent. Vision had nothing to do with it. The Jellicle settled down contentedly, hugging his shaking paw to him, and allowed the events of that night's Ball to rush back to him in a flurry of colour, smiling softly to himself. What a wonderful night! It had been a shame he hadn't been chosen for the Heaviside Layer but he didn't really mind.
His smile faded as he remembered the looks on the other Jellicle's faces when he had sung of his time on the stage. Pity. Simple, patronising pity. He wasn't angry for it but he didn't understand it either. Why should they pity him? His life had been such an incredible experience: the buzz of the dressing rooms, the lights, the audience…
He tired old face broke into a beaming smile as he relived his time as Growltiger a second time that evening. He had meant what he'd said; he could play Growltiger again. And again and again and again! Just no one gave him the chance. Oh, his Growltiger…he'd had the audience quivering in their seats. And of course it was not just Growltiger he was famous for or even Firefrorefiddle though that had been his 'break' or whatever the young actors called it these days. He'd played so many parts in his lifetime and wasn't ashamed of a single one of them. Well…maybe that brief pantomime role where he'd had to be unceremoniously bundled into a sack and released later for the sake of a dreadful pun; that had been degrading. The audience had cheered and whistled and begged for more and he would sit calmly centre stage and gaze out at his adoring public, occasionally nodding to one or two individuals and basking in their love and appreciation. His Shakespeare debut had been particularly impressive; stepping into the breach at the last minute when Sir Olivier had decided a cat was needed in the witches' scene of Macbeth. Gus had thought the idea rather clichéd but had seized upon the chance to perform and had done so admirably. How he'd loved that play. The power of the language had enthralled him and the speeches and soliloquies had left his heart thudding in his chest. Privately he'd practiced those very speeches (and others), himself during the night when he wouldn't be disturbed, strutting up and down the streets projecting the words into the night air and picturing himself on stage. These sessions had usually ended with some form of object being thrown from a nearby human house but they clearly just didn't understand great culture. He'd learned 70 speeches during his time, mostly Shakespeare or other classics though some contemporary ones as well. John Godber was a particular modern favourite. Gus sighed to himself as he tried in vain to conjure up the monologues and speeches he'd once been so proud of.
"If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The spirit of love! how…"
No. No, that wasn't it.
Oh well. It had been a long time since he'd recited them and he was extremely tired. Yes, that was it, he couldn't concentrate. It would be different in the morning when he'd remember them as clearly as the day they'd first been memorised.
Gus snuggled down further in his basket and yet again his thoughts returned to Growltiger. He was not sure why this precise role kept popping into his head, perhaps it was just because it was the one he remembered most clearly. And of course it had been the one he had met Lillypaw in. Lillypaw. As soon as he'd seen her he'd been trapped in her beauty and realised she would be his mate; if he couldn't have her he wouldn't have anyone. He'd loved her more than life itself. When she'd passed away he wasn't sure how he managed to wake up every morning and carry on as normal, grieving every step of the way. Despite the years which had built up white mists in his memory he still saw her face as clearly as if she'd been standing in front of him. The adoring smile she would bestow on him and her gentle grey eyes, which would sparkle with mischief occasionally, in spite of her innocent features. He chuckled as he remembered the first time he'd seen her dressed as Griddlebone and looking very unimpressed with her costume. She'd been a wonderful actress, every bit as good as him and every Jellicle in the tribe at that time had said they'd been perfect together. Of course, there was no one in the tribe to remember her now, except maybe his carer, Jellylorum and (obviously) Old Deuteronomy and that thought saddened him. She'd been so vibrant and energetic; her very presence sparkled and could lift the spirits of even the most miserable cat. Her memory should have lived on forever. Still, he remembered and that was the important thing.
Yes. He remembered. He remembered so much.
Gus felt sleep pounce upon him and rise victorious from the skirmish. He smiled sleepily to himself as he settled down with his memories for the night.
As he closed his eyes for what would be the last time, something deep inside him knew he wouldn't be at the next Jellicle Ball. It was a shame he hadn't been chosen for the Heaviside Layer but he didn't really mind. After all, what new life could ever possibly have matched the last one?
I am aware I repeated 'It was a shame he hadn't been chosen for the Heaviside Layer but he didn't really mind', I assure you it was deliberate :)
Reviews would be nice :)