Rum Tum Tugger saw the disapproving look in Munkustrap's eyes. He grinned lazily, rolling his hips sensually as he passed the kittens, who, predictably screamed and fell over themselves in the silliest of fashions. They were so easy to please.
The Jellicle Ball would begin soon on this most Jellicle of nights. Cats from all over had stirred, some from their homes (fat Gumby cats like Jennyanydots), some from their alleyways, some from their street corners, and some from wherever they chose to spend their days. Rum Tum Tugger saw Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer appear for a spare few minutes before disappearing again, likely not the least bit far from the Ball, pilfering while the other cats were away. Macavity, thankfully, had not shown his dangerous, weathered face yet. This Ball might pass without a dramatic fight.
Munkustrap was getting too old to fight the evil cat off, which meant the mantle of responsibility for maintaining calm could easily pass to another, of which Rum Tum Tugger was noticeably the best choice. Old Deuteronomy and Bustopher Jones, although the largest of Jellicle cats, were unsuited for fighting. Old Deuteronomy had once been captured by that very Macavity! If he couldn't fight him off then, how could he now? The Tugger could only wish more years and more strength on Munkustrap.
He didn't need Munkustrap to fight in his stead when it was so plain that the Tugger was a dangerous tomcat, or so the cat liked to think of himself. He was quite sure of his suitability to the role. He simply didn't want it. Munkustrap knew this and would have passed on the responsibility if it weren't for one niggling fact: the Tugger was too contrary to be trusted. He could as easily forget his responsibility as be unable to see Macavity as a true threat. After all, Rum Tum Tugger was a curious cat.
The Tugger wasn't particularly disposed to agree with anything Munkustrap might ask him to do. Munkustrap had ignored him since he had arrived, only meowing a curt command to leave the ones who were little more than kittens alone, as though he actually wanted them.
Didn't Munkustrap know him by now? Rum Tum Tugger would never want something- or someone- freely offered. Where was the fun in that, he would ask. The Tugger wanted what he didn't or, occasionally, couldn't have. That wasn't any young vixen who threw herself at his feet, no matter how the other tomcats meowed and postured in her presence. Youth and beauty were hardly wanted by this curious cat.
Oh, he'd toy with the kind, pleased by the way they responded to him but he'd never entertain a midday alleyway frolic, not unless he had just entered the house. That would defy his singular, curious nature. A true Jellicle would have no less.
It was for what wasn't being offered that Rum Tum Tugger yearned. He wanted the old and plain, the tired and worn, the best of the best and the worst of the worst. Deny Rum Tum Tugger anything and he would demand it henceforth.
Munkustrap should have remembered all of that before he started this game between the two of them. Now that he was ignoring him, Rum Tum Tugger would stop at nothing to have the stiff, too polite tomcat underneath him.
ØØØ
Munkustrap greeted the newcomers to the Ball kindly, thanking them for having arrived and in such fashionable time.
Jellicle cats were finicky creatures. Some would spend all their time raving about one Jellicle Ball and planning for the next and others would simply turn up their noses at the thought, waiting until the very last moment to join the fête. Munkustrap was therefore capable to treat every visitor with equal care on this most auspicious of nights.
The annual Jellicle Ball was a gathering of all the local cats, a celebration of the more esteemed members that helped to cement in other members the necessity of living one's life in the grandest of ways. Every cat had the duty to become an idol, using one's talents to the extent of one's ability.
Some, though, Munkustrap thought, cutting his eyes at a cat with a certain distinctive ruff and glittering waist, used their duty as an excuse to live a life of depravity. That was not a sin for a cat, however, especially a Jellicle one. It was merely imprudent to carry on so. These girls who screamed whenever that particular cat waggled his hips were too young, hardly even a year old. They were too young to be having litters of kittens when they were hardly more than kittens themselves! Progeny could wait until they were more responsible. Why little Etcetera was already a mother and she barely one and a half!
Jellicle cats had responsibilities, Munkustrap harrumphed, and that included raising kittens properly, which these girls couldn't do until they were more aged!
It was, however, a bad night to be discussing anyone's daytime activities. The Jellicle Moon hung in the sky. Passions erupted under its cloud-besmirched gaze, leading to many a litter that could easily be traced to this fateful night.
Jellicle cats were different from other cats. They had desires under the Jellicle Moon that had nothing to do with going into heat. A single female out of cycle could reproduce after a joining on this night, the kittens born more special than other kittens, the truest of Jellicles. Almost every great Jellicle cat claimed to have been conceived on this night, the obvious lack of esteemed greatness in his or her littermates always left unquestioned.
Munkustrap put his anger at Rum Tum Tugger aside as he noticed Skimbleshanks arrive. The Railway Cat had missed the last Jellicle Ball and Munkustrap was keen to hear of his news of faraway places like Edinburgh and Kent. Munkustrap had never had the chance to travel far, not even in his youth, and so was especially fond of the curiosities the Railway Cat had in store.
He greeted Skimbleshanks with a gentle head but, purring delightedly as he rubbed against his old friend. The smell of coal and smoke wafted around the Railway Cat, adding to his intense presence.
"Welcome, traveler," Munkustrap meowed politely.
"Ah, Munkustrap," the Railway Cat yowled, his voice loud as ever and accented like the northern cats. "Good to see you, old mate. Has everyone arrived?"
"Not yet," Munkustrap answered. "Though trouble has already."
"Macavity?" the Railway Cat guessed. "Or is it Mungojerrie? He's been thievin' hard since Rumpelteazer had them kittens. He doesn't believe they're his," Skimbleshanks hissed, leaning in close so only the keenest of ears could hear. "And Rumpelteazer of course won't tell nobody whose they really are. She's mum to all and any."
Munkustrap flicked an ear back at a sudden commotion behind him. His whiskers twitched irritably, instinctively knowing who the troublemaker was. "No, they're both here, Rumpelteazer and Mungojerrie. They brought the kittens with them."
"Ah," the Railway Cat said, his yellow eyes filling with understanding. "Surely the Tugger knows better than to tease such young ones."
"Surely," Munkustrap said tightly. Skimbleshanks smiled and moved on to greet the group waiting for him. One of Rumpelteazer's lot was with them, which eased some of the worry in Munkustrap's heart.
He stretched, back leg high in the air while he cast his gaze around. A flash of glitter made him bare his teeth and raise his spine until he realized it was only Mr. Mistoffelees slinking about the junkyard. The magician was a bit of a recluse, nothing unusual for a Jellicle cat, and rarely made an appearance before someone spoke his name. Then he appeared from what could only be thin air with a storm of sparkles following him. A good cat, a clever cat not prone to talking. If only he weren't such good acquaintances with the Tugger, Munkustrap would spend more time with him. He really was a clever cat.
Just then, Exotica arrived, trailed by the new Abyssinian her humans had adopted. She was, as ever, exquisitely beautiful. Statuesque, Exotica was a marvel of a cat, from a breed so pure it could trace its roots back to the Pharaohs, a breed of humans intelligent enough to worship cats.
Her companion was equally handsome. Shorthaired like her, he had deep, amber-colored eyes and fine features. Munkustrap did not need to ask to know that they expected to produce kittens together. Humans thought they were so clever. A Jellicle cat would never breed for a human's sake. Exotica merely wanted to continue her noble line. One litter, perhaps two, and Munkustrap was sure she would search out a tomcat more appealing to her personal tastes. The humans would likely yowl at her but Exotica would never do anything for their pleasure alone.
Munkustrap had done his fair share of breeding. Now he was alone, as most tomcats were for the majority of their lives. It was, however, the Jellicle Ball. He could make an exception, let his passions find comfort wherever they may. So long as he did not embarrass himself, like that unfortunate cat who had mated with Grizzabella many Jellicle nights ago, he could do as he wished.
A pained, kittenish yowl had him twisting sharply backwards. Rum Tum Tugger stood, his teeth bared and his hackles raised at a young queen. He was hissing at her, unhappy that she had touched him. Munkustrap curled his nose, inhaling a scent that surprised him. The young queen was close to heat, likely exacerbated by the Jellicle Moon. The proper thing to do would be to take her to a secluded alleyway and mate with her. One didn't ignore heat unless there was intense animosity between the cats and even then, it was still uncommon.
The Rum Tum Tugger refusing to mate with such an attractive young thing? Munkustrap dropped his lip. Unusual but then, the Tugger was an unusual cat.
ØØØ
Rum Tum Tugger seethed. He had stalked off, leaving Exultina to yowl her rejection to the others. One did not force him to mate! Mating was not a Jellicle duty. He had the right to refuse her politely. That she was stupid enough and impassioned enough to believe that she could force him to do anything was infuriating. He chose his lovers, not the other way around!
Far angrier at the attempt to force him than at the actual thought of mating with her, Rum Tum Tugger curled up in a tight knot, settling down in an old cardboard box. The air was smoky from the humans' chimneys and their ever burning fires. His anger abated as he breathed in the familiar smells of the junkyard and another Jellicle night. He had been craving the next ball. Now that he was here, he'd rather be back in the house, eating grouse. Stupid queen.
He heard and saw the other cat before he reached him. Black from the tip of his tail to the tip of his nose, Mr. Mistoffelees was a welcome sight. He was a quiet cat, not prone to excess noise, and the Tugger was fine with that.
Mr. Mistoffelees looked him over with green eyes before winding around himself and settling down next to him. No talking, just the faint purring that none of them could help.
The night air was rapidly cooling, turning even the cardboard box cool. The Moon was growing brighter, signifying the beginning of the Jellicle Ball. They would both be expected to return soon for their parts in the yearly celebration.
The Tugger decided to wait a little longer. He went to sleep, knowing that he would wake up perfectly on time.
ØØØ
Munkustrap studied the assembled cats, puzzled as to who was not in attendance. A few cats stayed in the shadows created by the piles of scrap metal and other junk, though most were assembled in the clearing. Not everyone had to be there to begin since fashionably late for a cat could be severe tardiness, but Munkustrap expected the regulars to have arrived by now.
He nearly hissed his displeasure when he realized who was missing. The young queens were in a frenzy of excitement, yowling for the Tugger. Munkustrap wasn't heartbroken to find that cat missing. Rum Tum Tugger could disappear off the face of the earth for all he cared.
Still, his presence was required, if not now, soon. They would begin anyway, Munkustrap decided.
He began the Jellicle song, the other cats purring and humming as they readied themselves for a night of singing. The air felt thicker, pressing down on them with the import of this celebration. They were continuing an ancient tradition, one that began before Old Deuteronomy's litter was born. Possibly much longer, cats not having as long or as perfect a memory as their human counterparts. To them, Old Deuteronomy was the ancient of ancients, yet they all could see Gus was older. They hadn't the memory to understand that these two must either be the same age or Gus older. The tradition of the Jellicle Ball was still more ancient than any present and they felt the need to carry it on year after year.
Rumpelteazer's young kittens added their voices, making no mistakes. The Jellicle song was part of their heritage and they knew its entirety perfectly. Their little voices were sweet and clear, much more bearable than their mother's.
Gus warbled, his palsy shaking his paws. His voice was as unsteady as his appendages but it was welcome all the same.
Exotica and her housemate added their foreign tones, their dancing elegant and exotic. The young queens tried to imitate them with marginal success.
Skimbleshanks' voice pierced the others, loud and precise. Munkustrap grinned at the familiar sound.
Others joined in, their voices obscured by the sheer number of howling cats. Old Deuteronomy's deep tones could be heard underneath all, supporting the weaker and adding to the stronger, just as he did in life. Munkustrap bowed in passing to the great cat.
The dancing grew to an instinctive frenzy, each cat dancing in perfect rhythm with the others though none consciously knew the steps. That was the power of the Jellicle cat, an instinctive, gut-feeling of what was right and what was wrong, each cat singing and dancing from his soul. Young and old, they sang and danced, beginning the ritual under the Jellicle Moon.
So strong was the feeling of power flowing through the junkyard that Munkustrap did not notice the metal quality of the Tugger's voice harmonizing with a voice greater than his own, sung by a small, night-black cat. So strong was the power that, had he heard it, he would have thrust aside all his personal quibbles and joined in the duet.
The music rang through the night, pausing only once when the first shoe was thrown before picking up again. Nothing could stop the cats singing to the glory of the Jellicle Moon.
ØØØ
Rum Tum Tugger relaxed, sprawling out on a dented hubcap as he watched the spectacle of dozens of cats dancing and singing to the glory of other cats. He had already put in his piece and now only waited for the perfect time to introduce Mistoffelees. None here could glorify the magician as he could, one performer presenting another. It was almost as much fun as listening to the queens howl and purr over him.
There were many cats to go, however, before that late hour was reached and so he waited in feline repose, watching and listening to the praise extolled for this or that cat.
The Jellicle Ball grew longer every year, it seemed, with more and more cats glorified. Cats lived longer these days, Rum Tum Tugger thought, and so could see many Jellicle Balls, and there were always cats to be praised for the exploits of the latest year. It was a terrible thing to lose a place in the Jellicle Ball and most cats once praised spent the rest of their lives attempting to live up to their previous achievements. That was the main reason Jellicles were told to follow their personalities and build greatness out of them: it was so very easy to lose one's way when one was trying to be someone else.
He was in no danger of losing his place in the Ball. Rum Tum Tugger was truly as contrary as his song made him out to be. He wanted what he couldn't have, like every cat, and extrapolated on that by constantly striving to be a more curious cat.
That reminded him: Munkustrap had been ignoring his grand existence. That was unacceptable for the rockstar cat and it presented him with the easiest path for further greatness. Rum Tum Tugger had only to invite the prissy tomcat to warm a windowsill with him one day. Munkustrap would surely refuse and that would start another bout of interest on the Tugger's part. This game could go on for quite a while if he let it. It would be such fun.
ØØØ
Munkustrap arched his spine, hissing irritably at the ruffed cat following him. It was terribly rude but Rum Tum Tugger would not leave him be.
The Jellicle Ball was over for this year, the festivities turning personal as cats sauntered off together into quiet recesses and mothers herded their litters back to their haunts. Munkustrap wanted to return home, where he could sleep the day away curled up in his human's armchair. He did not want to spend his time being trailed by some young hooligan, especially one to whom he had never shown a liking.
"May I help you?" he asked, forcing his spine into a softer curve. It would not do for him to be ruffled by such a younger cat. "I am returning home. I suggest you do the same."
Rum Tum Tugger bared his teeth, the expression somewhere between amused and feral.
"I would love to do the same," he purred, sashaying up to Munkustrap, his side brushing against Munkustrap's black-and-white striped coat. "Please lead the way."
Munkustrap narrowed his eyes. It was reaching daylight and his pupils were starting to retract under the lightening sky. He would very much like to be rid of this cat.
"You misunderstand me," he said with applied calm. "I would like to return to my home. I recommend you return to your own."
Rum Tum Tugger's smile widened. "I understood you perfectly fine, Munkustrap. Let us return to your home. The Jellicle Moon hangs in the sky yet. Let us enjoy ourselves."
"I would rather swim in ice cold water," Munkustrap snarled, all propriety lost. "Than spend a morning with you."
"Oy, with the foreplay already?" Rum Tum Tugger's eyes glittered, reminding Munkustrap with a shiver that this cat always got what he wanted. "I had rather thought you were opposed to my…presence."
"I am." Munkustrap shivered again, though he was not the least bit chilled. His fur was on fire, his tail curving in interest. Rum Tum Tugger rubbed against him, his tail brushing across Munkustrap's whiskers as he passed by.
"Truly?" the Tugger rumbled, sex oozing from his fur. His whiskers were beautifully curved, Munkustrap mused. His coat shone as only a well-pampered cat's did, the ruff thick. His teeth were sharp and white, his tongue a salmon pink. Rum Tum Tugger was an attractive cat, that was for certain.
"Yes," Munkustrap answered, rubbing back against the Tugger. The other cat smiled and moved away, Munkustrap following without thought.
"I see," Rum Tum Tugger purred, turning only halfway back to look at Munkustrap. The pose was incredibly ribald, even for someone as sexual as Rum Tum Tugger. Munkustrap's head wasn't functioning correctly; he couldn't think straight under the Jellicle Moon. Only a scant few hours before Rum Tum Tugger had denied a queen practically in heat. Why was he teasing him then?
He asked him as much, seeing to his mortification the mirth rising in Rum Tum Tugger's slitted eyes.
"Munkustrap, do you not know me at all after so many Jellicle Balls? You cannot deny me something and expect me to forget it." Munkustrap could see the truth in that. Rum Tum Tugger rubbed against him again, his tail sliding suggestively over Munkustrap's own. "That queen thrust herself upon me. Whyever would I want that? Now you, dearest Munkustrap, have been teasing me for many a year. It is high time I received what I wanted."
"You want me?" Munkustrap meowed, surprised. It was patently obvious that that was what Rum Tum Tugger had been leading up to but still…he was hardly the most attractive of cats. He was getting on in years and Rum Tum Tugger was very, very young in comparison.
"Yes," Rum Tum Tugger sussurated. "Oh, yes."
"Then," he meowed, feeling jittery and shaken. "Let us spend the day together."
The Jellicle Moon faded from the sky as the sun's rays broke through the morning. By then, Munkustrap and Rum Tum Tugger were deep asleep in the alleyway behind Munkustrap's house.