Bachelorpad propped his forepaw on the OFF button on the massage chair, and it stopped rumbling.
"Come on, cats of ImperialistClan!" he yowled to the scarce amount of ImperialistClan cats who bothered to come to the gathering.
The cats weaved their way through the crowd, and sat in a single file line behind Bachelorpad, tails curled under their paws.
An intense whispering suddenly rippled about in swarm of cats. Bachelorpad crouched down and flicked his ear upwards to hear more. Some warriors were mewing with confusion, while Southpaw and Grandpaw casted a glance at each other, whispering intently.
I know it's eavesdropping, Bachelorpad murmurred to himself in his mind, but who cares? It's fun!
In fact, it reminds me of the time when I snuck into Scarface's diary! Good times, good times!
"Come on already!" Rockstar yowled at the clan, "everyone else but is back at camp now!"
"Not everyone," Bachelorpad heard Atheletesfoot mutter.
"Aren't there supposed to be four clans?" Southpaw quietly asked here mentor, Cocktail.
Cocktail just swung his head around and fainted.
Cocktail had a hangover, Bachelorpad thought indignantly. Great, jut what we need.
Tenderfoot and Grandpaw began dragging Cocktail back to camp, and the cats began padding away towards ImperialtistClan territory.
Bachelorpad sprang to his paws, shocked at the sudden realization.
DinnerClan wasn't at the gathering!