A/N: It's Jellicle Week December, starring everybody's favorite Jellicle Protector! That is, a week of Munkustrap. Sunday's idea donated by the marvelous magical Shrrgnien, my dear friend.
What was he thinking?
Munkustrap watched in fascination as the pollicle with the squashed face gnawed at the iron girder supporting the ceiling of the railway station. That didn't look a bit tasty. He shook his head and looked away, glancing every so often from the changing timetables down the line of railway tracks.
Skimbleshanks would insist on taking the last train possible. But even he never missed the train.
So why wasn't he here yet?
Long overdue, and Jennyanydots was starting to worry. Munk soothed her, and promised to wait at the station for as long as it took.
It was taking a while.
Munk sighed, gray eyes darting from the mulling passer-bys, cheerful and loud with bright, holiday-colored scarves and umbrellas, to the empty tracks looming to either side of the station.
Skimble was supposed to be here. All the Jellicle cats, no matter their home or station, were supposed to be in the Junkyard the week before Christmas. There were games to play, and stories to tell, and community cheer to spread all around. Even the cats without owners would have a home and family for the holiday season.
A shrill whistle sounded. Munk didn't remember if this meant a train was coming or going. Skimble would know, of course-but Skimble wasn't here.
"Brake problem," a mustachioed man grunted into a pay service telephone. "I heard the station attendants or engineers or something talking."
Munk's ears perked up. He strolled quickly to underneath where the mustachioed man stood.
"Yeah. Uh huh. A few more damn hours, they said." Seeing a large tabby cat hovering around his feet, the man froze, then waggled his booted foot at Munkustrap. "Shoo! Shoo! Get away, you!"
Munkustrap strode away with dignity. He set himself back up at the top of the stairs, carefully monitoring everything coming and going within the station. So Skimble was stranded with the train, which was expected to be several more hours.
Munk felt a yawn coiling at the back of his throat. He pushed it down. There was no sleeping on the job.
He kept his eyes alert, sweeping back and forth although there was nothing really of interest for a Jellicle Protector to see, but he did allow his mind to wander just a little, reminiscing about Christmases past.
This was the first one he was completely in charge of; all the traditions and feasts and celebration. He needed to uphold the honor and dignity of the season. Old Deuteronomy would be visiting, and he would be expecting the best.
A passing human sneezed mightily, causing him to flinch. Munk frowned.
Last Christmas, there had been the Jell-o Pudding Problem. But he didn't think Mungojerrie or Rumpleteazer would try that again-they had been green for almost a month afterward. And last Christmas, those well-meaning but dangerous humans from the Rescue Aid Society had tried to catch Alonzo and give him to small, mucus-filled children.
And last Christmas, Macavity had still been with Demeter.
Munk shivered. A tiny bundle of nerves was beginning to run up the length of his spine. Surely this Christmas, there wouldn't be those type of incidents. Everything would run smoothly, according to plan.
Like Skimbleshanks' train arriving on time?
Munkustrap waited, still as a striped statue and just about the same color, as hours passed and shadows slid across the tiled floor of the railway station. It was getting colder and darker, and still no sign of Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat.
It was almost four in the morning when the tired train wheezed its way into the station. Munkustrap arose and stalked toward the train, heading towards the front where the conductor's cat would sit. He was cold and sore, and none too pleased with the wait. Sure, it was his duty as Jellicle Protector and he wore it proudly, but let no cat forget that he would much rather be curled up with Demeter, or laughing at the kittens' exploits in their first snowfall.
"Skimble?" he called, keeping his voice even as best he could.
The familiar orange head popped out of the doorway, and a Scottish brogue replied: "Here, Laddie." The head disappeared again. Munk sucked in his breath. Not a word of thank you for his time spent waiting.
Skimble hopped down the steel steps onto the platform.
"Skimble," Munk said sternly, "you waited for the last train again. How many times did I tell you to be here on time?"
"Brake trouble!" Skimble protested.
"Last train," Munk stressed. "You waited till the last train. You know how important these holidays are to Jellicles."
"Aye!" Skimble said sagely, as if Munkustrap had stumbled onto some deeper truth. "And that's why I brought this little one." With a flourish, he swept a young kitten out from behind him. She had big yellow eyes and scraggly black coat and four white paws.
Munkustrap knelt down. "What's your name?"
"Holly." A braided bit of tinsel was tied around her neck. Munkustrap appraised her. She blinked, looking at him with the fearless innocence of a child.
Munk smiled. "Holly. How would you like to spend Christmas with us?"
She nodded enthusiastically. Munk patted her head, and rose to face Skimble, whose expression was bordering on smug.
"I found her fiddling with the Christmas decorations. She was trying to rearrange them, she told me."
"Likes Christmas decorations? Named 'Holly'? I think the Everlasting Cat is sending me a sign."
Skimble looked confused. "What sign?"
Munkustrap smiled and tossed his head, gesturing towards the railway station's exit and, farther beyond, the Jellicle junkyard. "That this Christmas is off to a great start."