Puss before the Boots... and a little bit after them
There walking down a lovely little gravel road was a cat. But not just any cat, this was the greatest cat of them all! Or so he told everyone. In reality, the cat walking down the road was just a normal cat with the ability to awe anyone with his great, big, green eyes. This cat's particular name (or at least what he was called) was Puss. Puss? You ask. Yes it is not a very dignified name for a cat trying to make it in the assassin world, but he'd grown accustomed to the snickers by now. A possible job interview lasted about a minute. Puss would order a bottle of hard milk and sit himself up at a bar and eventually some wealthy looking individual would come along asking whether or not he knew the assassin.
"I am the assassin," he would reply, in a dignified manner. At which point, the wealthy looking individual would start laughing at him. "You surely are not the assassin!" he would laugh.
"Oh, but I am. I am the assassin known as Puss!" the cat would exclaim trying to emphasize his ferocity and cold-bloodedness.
Many stares followed after this and then the bar would laugh at the cat, laugh at the man hiring the cat and then laugh as the man left the now- fired cat to wallow in the misery of being such a cat to be called Puss. Life was not good to Puss.
So here Puss was, walking down a road. And in the same place that he was at the beginning of the story too! Now, you would think he had made some progress as I rambled on about apparently hard life but he hadn't. You might be wondering why. Well, the fact of the matter was that Puss had just stopped walking. He stared in awe. Right before him was a pair of perfectly crafted and slightly small boots. They only appear small to us but they were just the right size for Puss.
"Boots!" he exclaimed in a moment of shock and disbelief. After all, what was the chance of coming across perfectly cat-sized boots? He looked left. He looked right. He looked up, down, all around and there was not a person to be seen so, he slipped the boots on and started walking down the road.
Several Months Later
Puss... now called Puss in Boots was living the high life. It seems his boots had not only given HIM confidence... but also the people who were his clients. Puss got all the chicks. Puss got all the money. Puss even got offered endorsements for other brands of boots. The only one he ever declined was the last. Why give up the boots that had made you famous?
Now he was sitting the back room of The Poison Apple, taking a long needed siesta when a knock came at the door. He sighed. The door opened and an old man with a blanket wrapped around him walked in. The king, as it happened to be. It seems he had a special job for our little Puss (in Boots). The king laid the money on the table and Puss smirked. Oh yes, for this amount of money, Puss could do any job. Even if the job was killing an ogre.
There walking down a lovely little gravel road was a cat. But not just any cat, this was the greatest cat of them all! Or so he told everyone. In reality, the cat walking down the road was just a normal cat with the ability to awe anyone with his great, big, green eyes. This cat's particular name (or at least what he was called) was Puss. Puss? You ask. Yes it is not a very dignified name for a cat trying to make it in the assassin world, but he'd grown accustomed to the snickers by now. A possible job interview lasted about a minute. Puss would order a bottle of hard milk and sit himself up at a bar and eventually some wealthy looking individual would come along asking whether or not he knew the assassin.
"I am the assassin," he would reply, in a dignified manner. At which point, the wealthy looking individual would start laughing at him. "You surely are not the assassin!" he would laugh.
"Oh, but I am. I am the assassin known as Puss!" the cat would exclaim trying to emphasize his ferocity and cold-bloodedness.
Many stares followed after this and then the bar would laugh at the cat, laugh at the man hiring the cat and then laugh as the man left the now- fired cat to wallow in the misery of being such a cat to be called Puss. Life was not good to Puss.
So here Puss was, walking down a road. And in the same place that he was at the beginning of the story too! Now, you would think he had made some progress as I rambled on about apparently hard life but he hadn't. You might be wondering why. Well, the fact of the matter was that Puss had just stopped walking. He stared in awe. Right before him was a pair of perfectly crafted and slightly small boots. They only appear small to us but they were just the right size for Puss.
"Boots!" he exclaimed in a moment of shock and disbelief. After all, what was the chance of coming across perfectly cat-sized boots? He looked left. He looked right. He looked up, down, all around and there was not a person to be seen so, he slipped the boots on and started walking down the road.
Several Months Later
Puss... now called Puss in Boots was living the high life. It seems his boots had not only given HIM confidence... but also the people who were his clients. Puss got all the chicks. Puss got all the money. Puss even got offered endorsements for other brands of boots. The only one he ever declined was the last. Why give up the boots that had made you famous?
Now he was sitting the back room of The Poison Apple, taking a long needed siesta when a knock came at the door. He sighed. The door opened and an old man with a blanket wrapped around him walked in. The king, as it happened to be. It seems he had a special job for our little Puss (in Boots). The king laid the money on the table and Puss smirked. Oh yes, for this amount of money, Puss could do any job. Even if the job was killing an ogre.