Title: Kosmic Katz
Genre: Humor
Rating: T
Summary: Maureen is too sick too perform her protest about animal cruelty, so who should have to step in but our beloved Sir Roger Davis. Another borderline crack! songfic from x Rajah x, for your reading pleasure. XD
Notes: How can I possibly explain this? XD Anyway the song is written and originally performed by Robby Brawn.
------
Roger Davis is a man of principle, of dignity and of self-respect. This rule, is something I have sought to uphold in my life in all instances. Though I have been known to occasionally slip up, as I'm known to do regarding anything, really, I constantly remind myself that I always have the choice: I can say no when a situation threatens my image, my vibes, my dignity.
Which is why I was more than a little confused when I found myself standing before Maureen, a most skimpy piece of black rubbery fabric slung over my arm, nodding as she explained the basics of a protest to me with a scratchy voice, due to a severe sore throat.
"It's all about the kitties. This protest against cruelty to animals, so you must convey a great love for the kitties, got it?," Maureen told me seriously, as Joanne handed her a tiny plastic cup of cough syrup. "Thanks, Pookie." She said quietly to her girlfriend, and then she turned to me again. "It's very important to me, Davis, as all my performance pieces are."
I just stood there like a stupid idiot, nodding.
"Which means, in simpler terms: Don't. Fuck. Up." Maureen said with a hoarse laugh. "Now, once you're suited up…"
"What?" One word, one question. "Maureen…" I started, holding up the black scarp of fabric she'd shoved into my arms. "Damn, Maureen… you were SERIOUS?"
She looked at me like I was the stupidest thing on the planet. I probably was, at this point, for going along with this plan.
"Wear it, Roger… you'd better wear it, or I'll kick your ass, and you know I can."
I whimpered. "Mo… I don't think it'll even fit me."
She snorted. "Duh, it won't. I'm not a freakin' fatty like you are."
"Fatty?" Tears filled my eyes, much to the "awws" and huggles from the fangirls. "Maureen… I am not a fatty. Ok? I'm a little husky, depending on how you look at me, and in what type of light… but I'm not a fatty."
"Right, you're not a fatty. You just didn't get enough treadmill, that's all." Maureen concluded, scribbling the last of the lyrics onto a piece of paper. "Here are the words, and you took some theater in high school, right?" Without waiting for an answer, she pressed on. "Ok. So you know how to project and perform."
"Maureen." I stated, holing up the cat suit. "Tell me again, do you really expect me to wear this?"
"If you want to see the light of day tomorrow, yes." She said decidedly. At my consternation, she giggled, popping a cough drop into her mouth. "C'mon Davis, I've seen those plaid pants you wear. That can't be much tighter on you than those."
"Maureen, this was made to fit a WOMAN." I told her, growing frustrated.
"You'll figure something out." She said, waving her fingers in a tittery way. "Have fun, Roggie. I believe you have to go get ready now?"
I hate Maureen Johnson.
I hate myself for agreeing to do this.
---------
The Space was already set up to Maureen's liking as I stumbled… ahem, sashayed in, rubber squeaking uncomfortably.
Most of the gang was already there when I arrived. Collins, my so-called loyal pal, collapsed to the cement, laughing uncontrollably, basically not breathing.
Die, Collins. Choke on your tongue laughing. You deserve it.
I glared daggers at him. Mark stood among a gaggle of homeless guys, filming, but when I entered, he rounded upon me, face red with internal amusement.
Here goes… I thought. I waltzed as gracefully as possible in my current predicament. The microphone was at on odd angle on the stand, and I had to awkwardly reach up and fix it, causing an agonizing sqqqquuuueeeaaakkkk from the fabric that was currently suffocating my arm and cutting off any blood circulation formerly present in my body.
The entire audience was dead silent. A cricket would've chirped, but Collins might've killed it. Lo and behold, he was still dying of laughter anyway. Some friend he was.
Mimi was giggling behind her hand, managing to only just show that she was laughing.
Everyone else was staring, openmouthed and wide-eyed as Mark's camera continued to roll.
I couldn't blame them honestly.
Roger Davis. In Maureen Johnson's cat suit. On a stage.
I know you're laughing. Stop it.
I haven't even told you what else I was wearing. My facial hair was dyed purple… with the kind of dye that doesn't wash out for days, much to my dismay.
Also, I had a large google eye affixed to my forehead with tacky glue.
Two, long, black ropes were dangling off of my ass.
Lovely, no?
I'm going to regret this, I thought, as the weird, sci-fi-esque music started to play, and the TV screens behind me began to flash carbon copy of my freakish half-mutant-cat self.
A breath. Let's get this over with.
And it was underway, just like that. People were laughing then, as if I couldn't tell they were because the music drowned them out. Uh, no!
I mean, judging by the looks on their faces, they were either cracking up or having hairballs lodged in their throats.
Oh God, a cat joke.
Listen to me!
So anyway, there I was, and somehow I managed to pull off an amused smile, probably because I was envisioning stabbing each laughing face in with a spork.
"Greetings, earthcats." Something within me, most likely my heart, cringed. It was literally painful. "We have arrived…" And the eerie music escalated.
I slung my guitar over my shoulder, grateful that it was there to cover up most of my torso, my straining lungs that were being jabbed by my ribs, which were smashed under the evil rubber of the cat suit.
Also, my guitar was the only non-idiotic observer, the only one not laughing.
It's so nice to know who your true friends are.
And then, something came over me, something that draped a wooly veil over those nincompoops that dared laugh. I was suddenly confident, sure that no one else had the guts to do what I was about to do.
Another breath. And I was ready.
I burst into song, no longer caring. "We're Kosmic Katz from outer space, just checkin' out the human race…"
I cupped a hand over my kitty ear. "What's this, we hear? Could it be true? Too many cats on Earth are blue."
And I danced. In a cat suit.
Beat that, Hollywood.
"Kosmic Ka-aaatttz!" I wailed. "Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz!"
You know what? That Kosmic Katz song got owned hard. I mean, truthfully, I sang my heart out.
What can I say? I love kitties!
"To earthlings we appear quite weird," I tried to explain. "Three eyes, two tails, and a purple beard!" I pointed out my weird abnormalities as I stated them, causing more laughter to abrupt from the audience.
Laugh it up, bitches. I make a better alien kitty than you any day.
Yeah, so I continued. "Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Interplantary, quite extraordinary! Kosmic Katz!"
And then, those laughing people were about to get lectured. I was going to tell them off. Even if they weren't cat abusers.
"It may be time for a quick reminder, to treat your cats just a little kinder!" I pointed to the Man, and he slid a finer across his throat. Whoops. Stole his client, and whoops, called him a cat abuser. Strike three- and I'd be out.
Whoops, I slashed his tires yesterday.
"A little kindness goes so far, a lot of love can ashine a star!" Joanne lifted a metal star into the air and shone a spotlight on it.
It was awesome.
"Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz!" You know what, those people were no longer laughing.
That's right, they were CRYING. Tears were streaming down their faces. Oh, man, I smell an Academy Award. But something struck me as odd… they were crying, but they were smiling…
Interesting.
But, anyway, when I was through, they were going to need emotional trauma counseling. I'm that good at being a mutant cat. Yeah. You're JEALOUS!
"We're Kosmic Katz from outer space, just checkin' out the human race…to earthlings we appear quite weird," I repeated, "Three eyes, two tails, and a purple beard!"
Then, I did this killer guitar solo. It was so wicked sweet, man.
After which I pranced about, (yes in rubber!), miming licking my paws. You guessed it, I'm a beast at charades.
"Where we come from, on Planet Meow…" Clever lyrics, Maureen… cue eye roll here. "All cats have homes, you bet! And how?"
"How?" Mimi called, perhaps sympathetic when no one else could stop laughing, I mean CRYING, to do so.
"Our families know that we're not toys! We're loved for life by girls and boys!"
We all know that cats can't dance. But hell, I sure could. If I wasn't wearing a one-piece skin-tight cat suit, I would've danced my pants off.
That cat suit was not coming off.
Ever. It had, like, elastic-ized itself to me. They were going to have to bury me in it. "Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz!"
"We're Kosmic Katz from outer space, just checkin' out the human race…to earthlings we appear quite weird, three eyes, two tails, and a purple beard!" Roger Davis, you are a FOX, ahem, cat. I flounced over to Mimi and purred in her face.
Yup, I purred.
I'd like that gold medal shipped to me by mail. Thanks.
Then, I was center-stage again; ready to prepare myself for the finale. "We're here to set the record straight…" I told them seriously, "That having pets, of course is great! The simple message that we send: treat pets the same as your best friend!"
Roger Davis is Mr. Nice Guy. I love animals, alright? They're like little people wearing fur coats, or feathers… or scales. Or whatever. You get it.
"Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz!" I screeched, as Maureen's homemade slideshow of kitty pictures flashed behind me on the TVs.
"Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Kosmic Ka-aaatttz! Interplantary, quite extraordinary! Kosmic Katz!" I danced like a maniac. It was fun. Haha, Mimi, who's the feline of Avenue B, NOW??!!!
Then, there was a loud BOOM! that was apparently part of Maureen's plan, and a kamikaze catnip bomb exploded above everyone's heads. The junkies thought it was weed or something and cheered. You know… whatever.
Oh shit, I think I just put the Man out of business. What is that, strike four?
I'm locking my door tonight. Good idea. Yupperdoodles.
Collins, of course, stopped laughing long enough to scoop up a handful of the stuff and put it into a joint.
He lit it.
Yes, he smoked CATNIP.
And then, he was laughing again.
Oh well. Because you know what? If those people had been sitting in the first place, I would've got a standing ovation. People were throwing flowers at me.
Yeah, they were dandelions, but it's the thought that counts, right?
I blew the audience a kiss, as Maureen would have, and decided to make an amazing exit. Maureen was going to be SO PROUD of me.
"Our work here is finished…" I said in my alien cat voice. "Goodbye."
And I turned around to creep off the stage, happy as ever could be.
That all changed when I heard a riiiippppppppppp!
Oh…damn. Yes, it was the catsuit.
Just as Mark was yelling, "What, no MEOW WITH ME?" My skin was suddenly cold in places that were previously encased in unyielding black rubber.
Oh shit. OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT.
"MEOW – HA!" And that was my girlfriend… I hated her until she stopped publicly worsening my humiliation and became my sweet Mimi again. Yay.
Mimi…bless her, God, I love her, muahmuah kisses. She ran up onto the stage and threw her leopard-print coat over me, restoring my clothed-ness as much as possible.
Mark, laughing behind his camera, came up to the stage as well, camera still rolling.
"Hey RogerKitty!" He cooed. "Who's a cutie? Aw, what a pretty little kitty!" And yes, I started stroking my hair.
I kicked him. HARD.
"It's 'treat pets the same as your best friend' not 'treat your best friend the same as pets'!" I corrected him. "GOSH MARK GET IT RIGHT!"
"Roger, a little more than a major wardrobe malfunction." Mimi clarified my status.
"Yeah…" I sighed. "I guess I'm buying Maureen a new cat suit. Oh, she's going to be so pissed."
Collins, still laughing, and YES, smoking catnip, ran up and hugged me then, almost bowling me over.
I glared at him. "Don't play that game with me, Collins. You hurt my feelings. I hate you now."
Collins raised his eyebrows. "Aww. Sorry. I mean… meow?" And he LAUGHED AGAIN.
I pouted.
He stopped laughing. Then, he withdrew another joint. "Catnip, my friend?"
Some truce that was.
--------
Special thankies to Stephanie Pascal for helping me out a little!
REVIEW PLEASE! NO FLAMES.
You guys, I'm freaked out. I just learned something crazy.
My mom's cousin's daughter might be in RENT! She got a call from Telsey a few nights ago in NYC!
Ohmygosh, so cool!
Kay, squee-ness over.