Disclaimer: The estate of T.S. Eliot owns 'Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats' and Andrew Lloyd Webber and the Really Useful Group own 'CATS'. I am neither. That's it. That's the only disclaimer that I'm doing for this series.
And Not Long Ago…
By
Paradox Predator
"And not long ago, this remarkable Cat produced seven kittens right out of a hat!"
~Mr. Mistoffelees, by T.S. Eliot.
…
Quaxo Mistoffelees entered the Junkyard (more commonly known as simply the 'Yard'), and looked about. His sister, Victoria, had been missing since midmorning and his Uncle Bustopher was getting worried. So Quaxo had sallied forth from his home in St. James' Street to find Victoria.
However, now that he was at the Yard, which was arguably the most probable place to find his sister, Quaxo couldn't help but notice that it was much too quiet for the time of day. Normally at this hour, the kittens would be out playing, but as Quaxo jumped on the boot of the TSE 1 car, the only kittens he could see were Pettipaws, Wiscus, Sillabub and Bill Bailey.
Doing a count in his head, Quaxo realized that meant that six kittens were missing- Electra, Etcetera, Jemima, Pouncival, Carbucketty and Tumblebrutus. Seven kittens if you counted Victoria.
"Hey guys," he called to the group as he jumped down from the car. "Have you seen Vicky anywhere?"
"No," Wiscus answered with a nervous look on his face. "We haven't seen her all day."
"We haven't seen most of the others all day," Bill added. "A bunch of the other kittens disappeared. Munkustrap keeps sending patrols out to look for them, but they haven't had any luck yet."
"Yeah," Pettipaws joined in, flicking the end of her tail back and forth. "The only adults that are staying in the yard are Bombalurina, Demeter, Munkustrap of course, Pushdragon, Jenny and Jelly, and-"
"Tugger!" yowled Sillabub as the Rum Tum Tugger entered the Yard. His mane was drooping and he looked worried. Seeing Quaxo, he sauntered over looking as though he wanted to run but was worried about what that would do to his image.
Taking Quaxo's paw, he led him aside. "Hey, Misto-"
"Tugger," Quaxo interrupted. "It's either Quaxo, or Mister Mistoffelees. Not Misto. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"At least once more," the Tugger smirked, and then his smile dropped. "Listen, Quaxo, I know that I'm supposed to be a heartless player and all, but those Princesses in my fan-club- I really do care about them, especially Cettie, the poor thing."
Quaxo nodded. It was common knowledge that Etcetera, or Cettie, had some problems. It was the way she obsessed over Tugger, the way she always acted every day- as though she was seeing everything for the first time. She was a very naïve young Jellicle, and all the others always watched her. Except for today, apparently.
"So, why are you talking to me?" Quaxo asked. "Munkustrap's doing everything he can, from what I hear." He gestured back towards the four kittens.
"Yeah, well, Deme thinks that ol' Maccy might have them," Tugger sighed, "and at this point, I'm starting to believe her about how bad that seedy ol' blaggard really is. She says that he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of deprav-"
"I get it, Tugger," Quaxo interrupted. "He's a bad guy. I still don't see what this has to do with me."
"Well you know," Tugger mewed. "You have all of the…" he waved his paws dramatically.
"Magic?" Quaxo deadpanned.
"Exactimundo!" agreed Tugger. "You got the power in your paws! Come on, Misto- er, Mister Mistoffelees! Don't you want to try?"
Quaxo sighed. He really wasn't that good at magic yet, and he was starting to regret telling the Rum Tum Tugger about it at all. It had started out with him asking Tugger to sit in on a few practice sessions for safety. It probably would have been more efficient to ask Coricopat and Tantomile for help with magic, but the two grimalkins really freaked him out.
At any rate, once the Tugger had realized that Quaxo had magic, he had started treating him like the Everlasting Cat's gift to Maine Coons that couldn't find…whatever it was that Tugger had lost at the moment. Sometimes Quaxo could find it, sometimes he couldn't, and every now and then, the object would come back twisted and smoking. Quaxo blanched at the thought.
"I don't know, Tugger," he said, thoughtfully. "What if one of them gets hurt in the process? Basements, what if my sister gets hurt? Uncle Bustopher would have kittens!"
"Bustopher Jones can't have kittens," the Tugger deadpanned. "He's a Tom."
"I know that!" scowled Quaxo, "I just… I lost my train of thought. Thank you, Tugger. Why does this always happen around you?"
"My good looks make you forget anything else."
"Not likely. Anyway, what good looks?"
The Tugger glared at Quaxo for a few seconds, and then went back to pleading mode. "So, will you do it?"
Quaxo sighed. "Fine, I'll try."
"Yes! Thanks, Quaxo! You won't regret this."
Quaxo sighed. He really hoped he wouldn't. If anything happened to Vicky, he would never forgive himself.
"I'm sure I won't," is what he said, his fur starting to glow. "Also, I'm working now. Call me Mr. Mistoffelees."
…
A few minutes later, Wiscus, Pettipaws and Bill had collected the top hat that Mr. Mistoffelees' uncle sat on during the Jellicle Ball (Sillabub had been too busy fawning over the Tugger). While the kittens had been getting the hat, Mistoffelees and Tugger had collected seven objects that were each roughly the size of a kitten.
"What did you say this was called again?" Wiscus asked.
"Substitutional conjuration," answered Mr. Mistoffelees. "It's easier than doing a straight conjuration because I'm replacing the kittens with objects that are somewhat like them."
Wiscus nodded deeply to show that he understood (he didn't).
Mistoffelees sighed. "Listen, you guys. My magic is a secret right now. If I do this right, when the kittens come out of the hat, they'll be slightly dazed and won't remember how they got home. Do you promise you won't tell them?"
The Tugger nodded, so Sillabub followed his lead. Wiscus and Pettipaws looked at each other before swearing on their tails not to tell about Mistoffelees' magic. Bill Bailey quickly added his oath, eager to bring his brothers home.
"Alright, then," Mistoffelees mewled. "Let's do this." He picked up the first object, a broken toy dart-gun, and dropped it in the hat. Picking up a piece of cloth, he covered the opening.
"Hey, presto, and away we go!" he yowled, pulling the cloth from the hat and revealing Victoria nestled inside. The other kittens quickly bundled her off to find out how much she remembered and make up a story as to how she got home.
Mr. Mistoffelees repeated the action six more times, growing more confident every time he pulled the cloth from the hat and revealed a sleeping kitten inside. Next to him, Tugger kept chanting something.
"What are you saying?" Mistoffelees asked as he helped Carbucketty out of the hat.
The Tugger flushed slightly at being caught. Not that he would have admitted it if you had remarked on it. "I was saying, 'Oh, well I never, was there ever a cat so clever as magical Mr. Mistoffelees!' What do you think? Next Jellicle Ball, you could have your own song! I was thinking something along the lines of 'And not long ago, this remarkable cat produced seven kitt-'"
"No, Tugger," Mistoffelees said, covering the top hat with the cloth for the last time. Only Pouncival was left to bring home.
"Aw, why not, man?" complained Tugger. "This was awesome! You are, like, the original conjuring cat! No doubt. You are." He held up a paw as Mistoffelees began to protest. "Nope. Don't wanna hear it. You're my best bud, and I'm makin' you a song whether or not you want it sung at the next Ball."
"Fine," Mistoffelees sighed, giving in as he helped Pouncival out. "Just don't make me sound ridiculous."
"Would I do that to you?" Tugger grinned unconvincingly. Turning away he began muttering to himself. "His manner is aloof and shy, he likes to set things on fire… No. How about…"
Mr. Mistoffelees fur lost its magic glitter as he faded back to Quaxo. Shaking his head, he went to collect Victoria. If he knew the Rum Tum Tugger, that song was going to be absolutely ridiculous. But Tugger would do what he do do and there was no doing anything about it.
…
AN: And there it is! This has been the first installment in 'Tales from the Russell Hotel', which is my series of 'CATS' one-shots. This is all based on my assumptions, which may be slightly different than what you're used to…
First off, Demeter and Bombalurina used to work for Macavity, then left when he tried to make them do stuff that went against their morals. No one really believes them about how bad Macavity really is.
In my version of the CATS world, Macavity is much more like Moriarty. He lives up to the title 'Napoleon of Crime' at the head of a gigantic crime syndicate that no one's certain that he actually heads or not.
All Cats are Jellicles. The group from the musical is the Junkyard Group, or the Yardies.
Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer and Etcetera are siblings. So are Quaxo and Victoria. I'm not even going to acknowledge the people who think that Coricopat and Tantomile aren't siblings.
Grizabella is Quaxo and Vicky's mother. Just look at the sparkly black fur under the gray! She did abandon them, though. The Pollicle.
Oh yeah, this is probably important. All of the Jellicles' names are separate. So, I have a Pouncival and a Carbucketty, a Jemima and a Sillabub. Tumblebrutus is technically Tumblebrutus, Jr., since his father was part of Growltiger's crew.
Pettipaws, Wiscus and Pushdragon: The names of T.S. Eliot's Cats, I think that they deserve a place in the Yard.
Cat Morgan, of course, is the cat from the last poem in 'Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats', and is basically T.S. Eliot's fursona. He may or may not secretly be Growltiger. I haven't decided yet.
I'm not sure whether the RumpusCat is an actual Cat or not yet, either. If he is, then he'll probably have a mild-mannered alter-ego in the form of Wiscus: the Scaredy Cat.
So, yeah. Sorry for the super-long author's note. See you next time in the Russell Hotel.
