A/N-
This is loosely based off the comic Lackadaisy. I didn't use her characters in this story though :) Just the basic idea- 1920s- Prohibition period, St Louis, and they are cats :D If the story still is confusing, look at the Lackadasiy website. It clears A LOT up :)
Some grammar and spelling mistakes are intentional, the main character (along with her brothers) is from Liverpool (England) and has a very thick accent. Also, if some of the language used makes no sense, its because it is British or 1920s slang. I am a brit, so I will probably use British slang often.
I sprinted down the dimly lit back streets of St Louis, trying not to run through the several muddy (and most likely deep) puddles that covered the old road. I tsked, this road was still gravel, I suppose they hadn't gotten around to repaving this path. I skidded to a stop, inches before a brick wall, and glanced down the 2 paths the street split into. Without much thought, I darted down the left one, hoping it would lead me to the main road. As I ran I could hear my chaser footsteps getting closer. I whipped around the corner and pressed myself against the wall, gasping for air. I looked down, and bit back a groan. My pants were splattered with mud and water, and don't get me started on my shoes. Well, they weren't my pants, per say, they were my youngest brothers, Charlie's stuff. He was closest to my slim size, and I was often nicking a shirt, vest, pants, tie, and jacket from him. It's not like he would notice… after all, he is blind. I know it's bad to take advantage of him like that, but he has caught my tail on fire more times than I could count! Speaking of, I looked at my fluffy orange tail. It is supposed to have black rings down it, but right now it just looked… brown. A shiver went down my spine; I hated it when my tail got dirty.
I sucked in a breath as my pursuer ran straight by me and down the street. He stopped at the end of it, wondering where I had run off to. I muffled a snicker, and quietly backed down the street on the right. Too busy snickering to myself to notice, I stepped straight into a puddle, the splash giving away my position. The black cat whirled around, and ran straight at me.
"Hey!" he yelled, "stop it right there!"
As he ran I could see him reach into his jacket pocket. I didn't wait around to see what he was going to pull out, and high-tailed it outta there. I looked over my shoulder to see, A) my coat tails and tail whipping out behind me, and B) The angry black cat getting closer.
"What tha hell is ye problem!" I yelled over my shoulder.
No response. Really, if he was going to chase me halfway across St Louis, the least he could to was answer my questions! I felt my hat begin to slip off and grabbed a hold of it, if that fell off my identity would be revealed. It didn't help that my face was so recognizable; you'd think more cats have tiger markings, but nooo!
Suddenly, I smacked into something hard, and fell to the ground. As everything went dark, I looked up to see the concrete wall I had smacked into, and the scary black cat with issues walk up. He raised an eyebrow at me and crossed his arms. And guess what I said. Just guess.
"Owwwww"
Not some sarcastic comment, but 'owww'. A groany 'owww'. And then (of course) everything went black as I passed out from a possible concussion.
