Another short chapter, but have no fear - the next one's alot longer. I promise. Unless I upload a different death, in which case it might very well be another shorty...

Anyways, here's where things really start getting ridiculous.

Disclaimer: Do I look like Andrew Lloyd Webber or T.S. Elliot?

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How to kill Tumblebrutus

You watch as the hyper ball of kitten-fluff that is Tumblebrutus bounces around the yard with his brother Pouncival. The fact that Tumble always seems happy and hyper gets on your nerves, although you can't quite put your paw on why. As you watch him, you come up with a cunning plan to get rid of him.

You wander as innocently as you can out to the stray's territory, being careful not to capture Munkustrap's attention because you just know that he's going to ask where you're going. As soon as you get there, you just stand still – what you want will come to you.

Sure enough, about five seconds after you stop walking, a flea approaches you. You pull a container and lid out from somewhere (convenience – again), and catch it. It glares angrily at you, baring its tiny teeth, shaking its tiny fist and probably shouting obscenities that a cat of your age shouldn't be allowed to hear. Luckily, he's too small for him to make so much noise that you can make out any individual words. You know that whatever he's shouting, it's rude. Don't ask how, you just do.

Several more fleas come over to see what all the fuss is about, and you capture them as well, before returning to the yard with the container hidden somewhere. Where that somewhere is, you really don't want to know, even though you were the one that hid the container there in the first place and should, following real logic, know where it is. However, since this is a fanfic, and therefore not real, we'll just skip over that minor detail.

When you arrive back at the yard, you offer to walk Tumble home because you're so kind and caring that you would do anything to make sure that no strays hurt him on the way. Since you are a Jellicle, and have a human home, you're not in that category and so are free to do to him what you wish.

He invites you in for a while, because it's just started raining outside, and you follow him through the cat-flap. While he is preoccupied with meowing at his owner to put some food down, you pull out the container from its hiding place and release the fleas onto Tumble's back. Once all the fleas are safely on the kitten's back, you put the container back and follow his human into the pantry while Tumble starts scratching. His owner glances back, sees him scratching and rightly guesses what is wrong with him.

"Fleas," she mutters to herself. "But I haven't got any treatment."

You meow to get her attention, and when she looks down at you, you nudge the vacuum cleaner with your nose.

"I suppose that'll have to do," she sighs.

You move out of the way as she pulls it out, and stand with your paws on the "on" switch to help her out. She picks Tumble up so that she has him in one hand, the nozzle of the vacuum in the other, and signals for you to press the switch. You gladly oblige, only too happy to help a human in need, and watch Tumble squirm. The fleas refuse to come out of his fur, so you turn the suction up as far as it will go.

Tumble's tail gets stuck in the nozzle, and it is closely followed by his backside. His owner just assumes he want to get away from the noise, so she moves her hand to cover his ears. Her grip on Tumble lessens, and he suddenly disappears in a puff of fur into the nozzle. His owner watches in horror, and you watch in amusement, as a small lump moves quickly down the pipe.

You clean your paws and begin walking back to your own home, satisfied with the result.

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I swear, next chapter will be longer (I should know, I've already written it). Please tell me what you think of it (my mum's already told me what she thinks, but she's biased so it doesn't count). You'll get a cookie... or something... I'l shut up now...