It had been three days since the guard cats came to the junkyard. They had since become very popular with the jellicle tribe. They were always in good moods and were very generous with compliments to anyone they happened to meet. Jellyorum and Jennyanydots would talk about how polite they were.
"Always willing to lend a helping paw those guard cats."
Munkustrap very much enjoyed the respect that he received from them. He and Vor often talked about the responsibilities of being a leader.
Even the Rum Tum Tugger, who rarely spoke to them, took pleasure in hearing them compliment his looks.
The one named Layf had taken a liking to the jellicle queen Victoria and she to him. They were often seen together. Sometimes talking, sometimes just being with each other.
It would be safe to say that the guard cats had earned very good names for themselves amongst the jellicles, with the exception of one.
The tom known as Mistoffelees found himself keeping his distance from the new cats. They were never as friendly to him as they were to the others. Why, he did not know. He couldn't think of any occasion that he had offended them. They just seemed to dislike him for some reason. Any attempt on his part to be friendly was returned with a cold stare or sarcastic remark. Whenever the guard cats were around, Misto had the uncomfortable feeling that they were watching him. They had even hissed at him when nobody else was watching. Since then, the magical cat had given up trying to be friendly and concentrated on staying away from them. When they came, he left. None of the jellicles noticed, as they were used to him leaving the tribe's clearing to work on his magic or choreograph a new dance. Out of all of them, he was the one who took dancing the most seriously. It was something that he loved to do and he was good at it.
And so, no one had noticed that day how he conveniently left only a few minutes before the guard cats arrived. They visited with the tribe for about an hour when the one named Tak inquired as to where the magical cat had gone. Pouncival, a friend of Mistoffelees, explained how he had left just before the guard cats came.
"He said something about a dance that he's been working on."
Tak shook his head in amazement.
"Heavyside, you all know how to dance don't you?"
Pouncival smiled.
"Yup, jellicle cats are born with the ability to dance. That and we love it!"
"Is that why you have a ball every year?" asked Vor who had joined the conversation, as well as Golb and Kent.
The jellicle tom nodded.
"We usually perform the same songs and sometimes the same dances. But most of the time, we choreograph new ones. Misto is, without a doubt, our best dancer and choreographer."
"Really?" asked Kent.
"Oh yeah! He's got at least one solo every year. And he choreographs most of the ball. That's probably what he's doing right now."
"Do you know where he went?" Vor asked casually.
Pounce nodded.
"He always goes to the same place."
He pointed to a path leading away from the tribe.
"If you follow that path you'll come to another clearing almost as big as this one. He choreographs the stuff there and then comes back and teaches it to us."
The toms continued to talk for ten minutes before Vor announced that they should get going. Layf reluctantly said goodbye to Victoria with a promise to be back soon. Then, the guard cats followed their leader out of the tribe's clearing and down the path shown to them by Pouncival.
Mistoffelees had been dancing for nearly an hour and a half. He did so every day, but he never tired of it. He had stopped to rest every so often, but now he was on his feet. The technique that he had adopted was simple. He would first decide whether his dance would be a three or eight count, then decide on the tempo, and having done all that, he'd simply dance. He was really into it at the moment. He had the eight count running through his head.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight."
Turn, lunge, kick, down, somersault, pose.
He held the pose for a little while, thinking about what he had just done. The somersault didn't feel right. He should probably think of something else to do on the six and seven.
He was so focused on what he was doing that he practically jumped when someone called his name.
"Mistoffelees!"
He whirled around to see the five, tall guard cats standing no more than six feet away from him.
"Oh, don't mind us," said Vor with a grin. "We were just passing by and though we'd stop and see how our magical friend was doing."
Misto said nothing as the guard cats casually formed a circle around him. The leader's smile faded.
"Don't let us bother you."
His cold stare was enough to turn the tuxedo's blood to ice, but he refused to let them know that he was at all nervous.
"Did you want something?"
To his vast surprise, Misto was boxed across the ears by the gang leader as he would do to a naughty kitten.
"Mind your manners Mistoffelees," he said. "The polite thing would've been for you to say hello."
"Hello," answered the magical cat sarcastically.
Vor narrowed his eyes.
"That was rather half-hearted, but what can we expect from something like you?"
"I've been wondering why we didn't know that it was a magical right away," voiced Kent. "I mean, look at it! It's in a penguin suit!"
The guard cats laughed. Mistoffelees clenched his teeth, but said nothing. Vor placed his elbow onto the magical cat's shoulder and used him as an armrest while he spoke.
"You know Mistoffelees, I can't help but get the impression that you've been avoiding us. Have any of you noticed that?"
The guard cats expressed their agreement.
"Yeah!"
"You're right!"
"I noticed that too!"
"Why is that?"
"I don't know," answered the leader, leaning harder on the black cat. "Why is that Mistoffelees?"
Misto didn't answer. Instead, he stepped out from under the brown tom who stumbled and almost fell.
"Ooooo," said the guard cats, wondering what he would do.
Vor regained his balance and stared at the faces of his gang. He let out a forced laugh, then turned and cuffed Misto across the face. He did not use his claws, but the force of the blow caused the magical cat to fall back into the arms of Kent.
"Eww! Take it Golb, before it infects me!"
Kent pushed the tuxedo toward the other brown tom.
"Do you think I want to be infected? Here Tak!"
Before Misto could regain his footing, he was shoved toward another guard cat who responded with the same loathe as the others.
"Aaack! Layf, you love it's sister! You take it!"
Layf caught the magical cat and held him by the fur on the back of his head. Misto clawed at the brown cat's paw trying to make him let go, but it was no use.
"Yeah! I love it's sister not it! Someone else take it!"
Layf jerked the tuxedo around the circle but the others backed away.
"Sorry buddy," said Vor. "You're stuck with it."
Layf hissed. He turned the magical cat around by the shoulder and cuffed him. Misto stumbled backward and tripped over a guard cat's leg. Someone threw a handful of dust in his face. He tried to stand, but was pushed back to the ground by Vor's foot. He groaned as he felt Tak kick him in the stomach.
"Oh! Well! I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees?" sang the guard cats, kicking him and showering him with dust and gravel.
Misto shielded his face with his arms. He had more than enough of their rough treatment. He counted to three in his head. Then he leapt to his feet and waved his paws through the air. There was a flash of blue lightning and the guard cats stifled cries of pain as they were flung backwards. Without hesitation. the magical cat raised his paw above his head and snapped his fingers. His surroundings vanished and he appeared back in the tribe's clearing. He stumbled a bit and shook his head. Warping always made him a bit dizzy.
"Misto!" called Jemima, running toward him.
He held out his arms and gave her a warm hug.
"What on earth happened?" she asked.
Mistoffelees looked down at himself and realized why she asked. His fur was almost completely covered with dust. He forced a smile as he brushed himself off.
"I'm okay."
"Are you sure?" asked the queen anxiously.
He took her paw in his.
"It was nothing, just an accident."
He looked at her worried expression.
"I was doing a triple pirouette and I didn't quite make it," he explained casually.
"Triple pirouettes have never been a problem for you before."
Misto laughed.
"I guess gravity got the better of me today."
Jemima stared at him for a few seconds. Then, a big smile came to her face.
"As long as you're okay."
"I am," assured Mistoffelees.
He wrapped his arm affectionately around the queen's waist and they walked away.
The next day, Mistoffelees was back at his clearing and working on the same dance that he had been the day before. Or at least, that's what he was trying to do. He found himself just wandering around the clearing. He didn't feel like dancing. He thought that if he tried hard enough, he could make himself feel like it.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," he said, snapping as he counted.
Nothing. His mind was on other things. Why did the guard cats heckle him the way they did? He had done nothing to them. It was as though they hated him for the fun of it. That's what it felt like to him. He and Victoria were only kittens when they were accepted into the tribe. While he was still new, the older jellicles bullied him because of his size. That same feeling was now returning to him. Why? He was not a kitten anymore. The guard cats were not kittens either, but they sure acted like it.
Another thing that Mistoffelees did not understand was why he did let them get away with it? Why didn't he tell Jemima what really happened when she asked him? Why was he protecting them?
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a noise behind him. He turned just in time to fall under the weight of a dark feline. Dazed from his head hitting the earth, he did not have time to move before his attacker managed to pin his arms to the ground.
"I've got it!" yelled a familiar voice.
He shook his head and looked up at the tom. It was Vor. Mistoffelees struggled to get free as the other guard cats gathered around them.
"Let me go!" he demanded.
Vor completely ignored the tuxedo. He looked up at his gang.
"Hurry up will ya!"
Misto didn't see who, but one of the guard cats managed to get a small, cloth bag over his head. The next thing he felt was being pulled to his feet by his arms. Then, whoever was holding him began to drag him away. He didn't know which direction they were going, but wherever it was he didn't want to be there. He tried as hard as he could to get away, but the toms held him with an iron grip.
"Let me go!"
"Shut up!" yelled someone, probably Vor.
Mistoffelees continued to struggle. He could see nothing. The cloth bag made it difficult to breathe. All he could hear were Vor's commands to his gang. Suddenly, he heard a new sound. He had to strain his ears to hear over the shouts of the guard cats, but he could make out the sound of something opening. He was dragged for maybe another ten feet. Then the toms threw him forward. Misto was unable to keep his balance and he fell to the ground. He rolled a few times until he hit something hard that stopped him. His keen ears could hear a click of some sort. Then the shouts of the guard cats ceased and all he could hear was the sound of feet running away.
He tore the cloth sack off of his head to find himself outside the junkyard. The hard thing that had stopped him was a tree. He slowly got to his feet, massaging his aching arms. He saw the junkyard gate, held shut with a large chain and lock. The guard cats had thrown him out. Literally.
Misto surveyed the fence. It was made of strong chain link. Barbed wire lined the top to make it impossible for anyone to climb over it. He and Victoria had entered through a hole in the fence somewhere in the back. There was no point in walking all the way around the junkyard to find it. Misto brushed himself off, raised his paw above his head and snapped his fingers.
"Always willing to lend a helping paw those guard cats."
Munkustrap very much enjoyed the respect that he received from them. He and Vor often talked about the responsibilities of being a leader.
Even the Rum Tum Tugger, who rarely spoke to them, took pleasure in hearing them compliment his looks.
The one named Layf had taken a liking to the jellicle queen Victoria and she to him. They were often seen together. Sometimes talking, sometimes just being with each other.
It would be safe to say that the guard cats had earned very good names for themselves amongst the jellicles, with the exception of one.
The tom known as Mistoffelees found himself keeping his distance from the new cats. They were never as friendly to him as they were to the others. Why, he did not know. He couldn't think of any occasion that he had offended them. They just seemed to dislike him for some reason. Any attempt on his part to be friendly was returned with a cold stare or sarcastic remark. Whenever the guard cats were around, Misto had the uncomfortable feeling that they were watching him. They had even hissed at him when nobody else was watching. Since then, the magical cat had given up trying to be friendly and concentrated on staying away from them. When they came, he left. None of the jellicles noticed, as they were used to him leaving the tribe's clearing to work on his magic or choreograph a new dance. Out of all of them, he was the one who took dancing the most seriously. It was something that he loved to do and he was good at it.
And so, no one had noticed that day how he conveniently left only a few minutes before the guard cats arrived. They visited with the tribe for about an hour when the one named Tak inquired as to where the magical cat had gone. Pouncival, a friend of Mistoffelees, explained how he had left just before the guard cats came.
"He said something about a dance that he's been working on."
Tak shook his head in amazement.
"Heavyside, you all know how to dance don't you?"
Pouncival smiled.
"Yup, jellicle cats are born with the ability to dance. That and we love it!"
"Is that why you have a ball every year?" asked Vor who had joined the conversation, as well as Golb and Kent.
The jellicle tom nodded.
"We usually perform the same songs and sometimes the same dances. But most of the time, we choreograph new ones. Misto is, without a doubt, our best dancer and choreographer."
"Really?" asked Kent.
"Oh yeah! He's got at least one solo every year. And he choreographs most of the ball. That's probably what he's doing right now."
"Do you know where he went?" Vor asked casually.
Pounce nodded.
"He always goes to the same place."
He pointed to a path leading away from the tribe.
"If you follow that path you'll come to another clearing almost as big as this one. He choreographs the stuff there and then comes back and teaches it to us."
The toms continued to talk for ten minutes before Vor announced that they should get going. Layf reluctantly said goodbye to Victoria with a promise to be back soon. Then, the guard cats followed their leader out of the tribe's clearing and down the path shown to them by Pouncival.
Mistoffelees had been dancing for nearly an hour and a half. He did so every day, but he never tired of it. He had stopped to rest every so often, but now he was on his feet. The technique that he had adopted was simple. He would first decide whether his dance would be a three or eight count, then decide on the tempo, and having done all that, he'd simply dance. He was really into it at the moment. He had the eight count running through his head.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight."
Turn, lunge, kick, down, somersault, pose.
He held the pose for a little while, thinking about what he had just done. The somersault didn't feel right. He should probably think of something else to do on the six and seven.
He was so focused on what he was doing that he practically jumped when someone called his name.
"Mistoffelees!"
He whirled around to see the five, tall guard cats standing no more than six feet away from him.
"Oh, don't mind us," said Vor with a grin. "We were just passing by and though we'd stop and see how our magical friend was doing."
Misto said nothing as the guard cats casually formed a circle around him. The leader's smile faded.
"Don't let us bother you."
His cold stare was enough to turn the tuxedo's blood to ice, but he refused to let them know that he was at all nervous.
"Did you want something?"
To his vast surprise, Misto was boxed across the ears by the gang leader as he would do to a naughty kitten.
"Mind your manners Mistoffelees," he said. "The polite thing would've been for you to say hello."
"Hello," answered the magical cat sarcastically.
Vor narrowed his eyes.
"That was rather half-hearted, but what can we expect from something like you?"
"I've been wondering why we didn't know that it was a magical right away," voiced Kent. "I mean, look at it! It's in a penguin suit!"
The guard cats laughed. Mistoffelees clenched his teeth, but said nothing. Vor placed his elbow onto the magical cat's shoulder and used him as an armrest while he spoke.
"You know Mistoffelees, I can't help but get the impression that you've been avoiding us. Have any of you noticed that?"
The guard cats expressed their agreement.
"Yeah!"
"You're right!"
"I noticed that too!"
"Why is that?"
"I don't know," answered the leader, leaning harder on the black cat. "Why is that Mistoffelees?"
Misto didn't answer. Instead, he stepped out from under the brown tom who stumbled and almost fell.
"Ooooo," said the guard cats, wondering what he would do.
Vor regained his balance and stared at the faces of his gang. He let out a forced laugh, then turned and cuffed Misto across the face. He did not use his claws, but the force of the blow caused the magical cat to fall back into the arms of Kent.
"Eww! Take it Golb, before it infects me!"
Kent pushed the tuxedo toward the other brown tom.
"Do you think I want to be infected? Here Tak!"
Before Misto could regain his footing, he was shoved toward another guard cat who responded with the same loathe as the others.
"Aaack! Layf, you love it's sister! You take it!"
Layf caught the magical cat and held him by the fur on the back of his head. Misto clawed at the brown cat's paw trying to make him let go, but it was no use.
"Yeah! I love it's sister not it! Someone else take it!"
Layf jerked the tuxedo around the circle but the others backed away.
"Sorry buddy," said Vor. "You're stuck with it."
Layf hissed. He turned the magical cat around by the shoulder and cuffed him. Misto stumbled backward and tripped over a guard cat's leg. Someone threw a handful of dust in his face. He tried to stand, but was pushed back to the ground by Vor's foot. He groaned as he felt Tak kick him in the stomach.
"Oh! Well! I never! Was there ever a cat so clever as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees?" sang the guard cats, kicking him and showering him with dust and gravel.
Misto shielded his face with his arms. He had more than enough of their rough treatment. He counted to three in his head. Then he leapt to his feet and waved his paws through the air. There was a flash of blue lightning and the guard cats stifled cries of pain as they were flung backwards. Without hesitation. the magical cat raised his paw above his head and snapped his fingers. His surroundings vanished and he appeared back in the tribe's clearing. He stumbled a bit and shook his head. Warping always made him a bit dizzy.
"Misto!" called Jemima, running toward him.
He held out his arms and gave her a warm hug.
"What on earth happened?" she asked.
Mistoffelees looked down at himself and realized why she asked. His fur was almost completely covered with dust. He forced a smile as he brushed himself off.
"I'm okay."
"Are you sure?" asked the queen anxiously.
He took her paw in his.
"It was nothing, just an accident."
He looked at her worried expression.
"I was doing a triple pirouette and I didn't quite make it," he explained casually.
"Triple pirouettes have never been a problem for you before."
Misto laughed.
"I guess gravity got the better of me today."
Jemima stared at him for a few seconds. Then, a big smile came to her face.
"As long as you're okay."
"I am," assured Mistoffelees.
He wrapped his arm affectionately around the queen's waist and they walked away.
The next day, Mistoffelees was back at his clearing and working on the same dance that he had been the day before. Or at least, that's what he was trying to do. He found himself just wandering around the clearing. He didn't feel like dancing. He thought that if he tried hard enough, he could make himself feel like it.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," he said, snapping as he counted.
Nothing. His mind was on other things. Why did the guard cats heckle him the way they did? He had done nothing to them. It was as though they hated him for the fun of it. That's what it felt like to him. He and Victoria were only kittens when they were accepted into the tribe. While he was still new, the older jellicles bullied him because of his size. That same feeling was now returning to him. Why? He was not a kitten anymore. The guard cats were not kittens either, but they sure acted like it.
Another thing that Mistoffelees did not understand was why he did let them get away with it? Why didn't he tell Jemima what really happened when she asked him? Why was he protecting them?
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a noise behind him. He turned just in time to fall under the weight of a dark feline. Dazed from his head hitting the earth, he did not have time to move before his attacker managed to pin his arms to the ground.
"I've got it!" yelled a familiar voice.
He shook his head and looked up at the tom. It was Vor. Mistoffelees struggled to get free as the other guard cats gathered around them.
"Let me go!" he demanded.
Vor completely ignored the tuxedo. He looked up at his gang.
"Hurry up will ya!"
Misto didn't see who, but one of the guard cats managed to get a small, cloth bag over his head. The next thing he felt was being pulled to his feet by his arms. Then, whoever was holding him began to drag him away. He didn't know which direction they were going, but wherever it was he didn't want to be there. He tried as hard as he could to get away, but the toms held him with an iron grip.
"Let me go!"
"Shut up!" yelled someone, probably Vor.
Mistoffelees continued to struggle. He could see nothing. The cloth bag made it difficult to breathe. All he could hear were Vor's commands to his gang. Suddenly, he heard a new sound. He had to strain his ears to hear over the shouts of the guard cats, but he could make out the sound of something opening. He was dragged for maybe another ten feet. Then the toms threw him forward. Misto was unable to keep his balance and he fell to the ground. He rolled a few times until he hit something hard that stopped him. His keen ears could hear a click of some sort. Then the shouts of the guard cats ceased and all he could hear was the sound of feet running away.
He tore the cloth sack off of his head to find himself outside the junkyard. The hard thing that had stopped him was a tree. He slowly got to his feet, massaging his aching arms. He saw the junkyard gate, held shut with a large chain and lock. The guard cats had thrown him out. Literally.
Misto surveyed the fence. It was made of strong chain link. Barbed wire lined the top to make it impossible for anyone to climb over it. He and Victoria had entered through a hole in the fence somewhere in the back. There was no point in walking all the way around the junkyard to find it. Misto brushed himself off, raised his paw above his head and snapped his fingers.