DREW

They never really showed the cats' kitchen on Heathcliff. Food was either stolen or just magically materialized. Sometimes they went out or barbecued, but that was a rarity. I think they mainly ate cold pre-cooked chicken from the fridge or something. Cleo was a modern girl, and Riffraff and the gang were slobs. That's why, when Riffraff asked me to cook, I assumed he was joking.

They actually had a kitchen, one from an ugly Airstream trailer. It had a handful of cabinets, a counter, a stove and a little sink. The windows were all open, and I could see ripped mosquito netting through the frames.

Despite the huge amount of groceries we had bought, I didn't have anything of that much variety to work with. Ham, chicken, eggs, fish. I guess I almost could make fish batter, if I mixed bits of fried chicken with the eggs, but that would have been a waste of chicken.

I checked the cabinets, though my expectations were low. I suspected I would have to go back to Dinosaucers to get `real groceries.'

It was like a scene from The Twilight Zone. A scary monkey's face appeared inside one of those cabinets, shrieking at me. As I closed the door, it hit me in the head with a box of corn flakes.

Bingo! Crumbled cereal, eggs, fish. I even found some pepper in another cabinet, plus the necessary pans and cooking implements.

Being animated, it all looked perfect when I mixed the stuff and breaded the fish. It probably would have looked even better if I knew how to draw.

As I was checking another cabinet, Cleo stepped into the room, smirking at me. I was Bird Woman, so it wasn't as awkward as it could have been. "You know how to cook?"

I shrugged. "Well enough."

"You look good as a French maid."

I looked down, and decided it was just girl talk. "Uh, thanks."

I glanced at her sparkly collar. "Congratulations, by the way. I'm sure it was as much a surprise to you as it was to him."

She grinned. "What are you talking about?"

I just rolled my eyes. "Never mind."

She sashayed out.

Amanda joined me in the trailer as I was putting the fish in the oven. She peeled back my bandage. "Feel any better?"

"Not really. About the same, actually."

She frowned. "I guess I can go look for some thread and sew it up, or I could get you a doctor..."

"No doctor, please."

I sighed, unsure if thread were all I needed to do to get fixed up.

"Drew..." she said.

I furrowed my brow. What does she want now? I thought. Alternately, what bad news do you have for me? "Yeah...?"

"Did you really sleep with that noid girl?" she asked.

I swallowed. I guess I could have lied and said yes, since it might have changed her mind about sleeping with me, but I didn't really know if that would be enough to convince her...I guess. "We came close, but we didn't...do anything."

She smiled. "So I'm your first."

That made me cringe. "Technically. I suppose."

She didn't get it. "You mean there were others?"

I sighed. "No, Amanda. You were my first. I'm just ashamed because it's freaking incest!"

She just giggled and checked the oven. "Looks delicious!"

"Yeah," I said. "I just kind of threw it together."

"Why didn't you just use the Magic Box?"

"The what?" I said.

She opened a cabinet under the counter, showing me a black box with no label. The lid looked like something from a pepper container.

She sprinkled it on a piece of fish I'd set aside for the next batch, and immediately it was covered in all sorts of delicious seasoning. Vegetables also materialized out of thin air to give the item a gourmet look.

"Now that's just lazy," I said.

"Maybe," she said, sprinkling the fish in the oven. "But all the chefs in Cool World use it."

"What about Ratatouille? I thought I saw actual cooking in that movie."

"I've seen him perform. It's a stage trick. He secretly puts powder from the box in his ingredient containers." Then she smirked. "I never thought of using eggs and corn flakes."

"As a bachelor," I said. "You either go broke eating out all the time, or you learn to cook."

"Or you sleep with a cook," Sneezer said as he entered the room.

I rolled my eyes.

The mouse gazed at me with hearts popping out of his body. "I've been watching you from the door," he said. "You've been a rat this whole time."

It was true. I guess the feminine side of my personality was really in its element, or something.

I guess that also explained why I kept looking at him.

"I saw how you were kissing that bird, and touching her. Why didn't you just go through with it? Why did you have to send her into the Shadow Realm?"

"I..." I stammered.

"Would it have really been that bad?"

"I don't know," I said. "The baby play thing is a turn off, and I'm thinking, if we got into a relationship, she'd let her hair down, or her diaper, to be more accurate."

"But didn't you want her diaper removed?"

I sighed. "Tee hee. What I meant was, she'd go back to her old ways."

"Then how about us?" he said with a grin.

I found myself blushing. "Look, uh, this isn't a good time. Let's do the date thing tomorrow or the day after and talk about it then."

"I like the sound of that!" Sneezer said cheerfully.

"You're going to burn your food," Amanda said, grabbing some hot pads.

The fish she pulled out of the oven looked like a painting, maybe even a painting on a box of fish batter, the older type that doesn't use photographs of glue coated plastic food that's supposed to be what your actual end product would look like.

"Do you know if Holli has found a cure yet?" I asked.

She set the fish on the counter. "The last time I checked, she's still working on it."

I put the fish on a plate, which magically garnished itself with a slice of lemon and sprig of parsley.

Why am I doing this? I asked myself.

I originally agreed to the slave bit to impress Amanda, because I didn't know she was my sister, and I wanted to sleep with her.

Being that she's my sister, I really have no business sleeping with her, and so it would be better for both of us if we never touched each other again. I.e., I should make it a point to become less sexy, more loathsome, more rude, more disrespectful, etcetera.

Furthermore, the cat probably cheated on the game.

So why bother with working for this douche?

Of course, I reconsidered, that douche did kind of save my life, and help Extra.

I decided to try it a few days, and see if it's really as bad as all that. The cooking part was a cinch, so maybe the rest would be too?

I heard a weird grinding sound, then a skinny guy in pinstripes, Buddy Holly glasses and stylishly swirled hair approached me. "Did someone call for a Doctor?"

I furrowed my brow. "Uh, yeah. You see, this evil rabbit threw a sharp pointy thing at my chest, and I wanted someone to take a look at it..."

"All right," he said. "Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

"Okay." And I removed the bandage.

The stranger sucked in his breath through his teeth. "By jove, that is nasty, innit?"

He then gave me an embarrassed smile. "Blimey. You need a doctor doctor.. Not quite qualified for that one, I'm afraid!"

And he dashed inside a blue London police box.

The box faded from sight with a wheezing grinding noise, presumably going off to Metabolife 3 or whatever place the guy normally travels to.

Wacky cameos. Par for the course around here, I thought as I re-bandaged myself. At least animated bindings didn't get dirty.

Finding the cat reclining in pharaoh's garb on a chaise lounge, I brought him his plate. "Uh, your dinner, your majesty."

You kind of had to have a sense of humor about these things.

"Very good, slave," he said in a haughty tone. "Now fan me with a giant palm leaf and/or feather."

I rolled my eyes. "And where would that be located?"

Riffraff pointed behind his recliner, so I fanned him with a giant palm leaf. "Don't you have a bicycle that fans when you pedal?"

"I suppose I do," he said. "But this is much more slave-like, don't you think?"

"Maybe, but pedal power can generate electricity if you rig up the right type of equipment. Also, I'd be getting a better workout."

"I don't know about that. Your upper body seems a bit slight to me."

"Whatever," I groaned, waving the palm.

"So..." Riffraff said in between bites of fish. "Remind me again. What do you do for a living?"

Funny you should ask me a question like that, I thought, when you never actually had a job yourself. "I'm a tax guy."

"That's great," he said sarcastically. "I'm glad I'll never have to make use of those particular services."

"Don't be so sure. We're buying your car. If this place operates even remotely like the real world, you're going to end up paying property tax."

"Explain this whole car buying process to me. I don't remember hearing about this stuff before. How does it work?"

"Theoretically, in the real world..."

I told him how a car loan worked, with monthly installments, and repo trucks if you fail to pay. Then about the title, the tags, the insurance, and the yearly vehicle ownership tax.

"That sounds like a royal pain!" he said. I supposed it was a pun, but I ignored it.

"The government is good at punishing people for living. It's just a fact of life."

He frowned. "So how are you going to pay all this?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I think I'm going to need a job. Technically, a second job."

"I see," Cat Pharaoh said. "Because your first job is slave."

I smacked my head. "Actually, I was referring to H and R Block, but yeah, I guess that would make it a third job."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"I saw a couple places in the paper," I said. "I'm not sure they pay the type of currency I need, but I can check."

"Are there any contests?" he asked. "You could pay the car off a lot quicker if you found a good contest."

I groaned. "I want a guaranteed paycheck. I don't want to go on a wacky adventure."

"Why not?" said a voice from the doorway. "I love wacky adventures!"

It was Hector, back from...wherever he went.

"Good for you," I said. "But if my life gets any wackier, they'll have to lock me in a padded cell with Daffy Duck. No thanks, I'll take a nine to five job."

"Nine to five?" Riffraff said with suspicion. "What about your slave duties?"

"I can work evenings if you want. But we're looking at eight hours per day."

"But what about your slave job?" he cried.

"There's been a slight revision in our contract," I said without the slightest bit of mirth. "Plus it's technically your car, so it'll still be part of the deal."

The way I figured, I was bending too far backwards with this slave business. If George Jefferson can have a lazy maid like Florence, I could give Riffraff a little less than what was expected. I'd do a good job, if it suited me.

In between the cheating at sports, and Amanda being my sister, I figured I owed him at least half that much. Or should I say...little?

And then Mongo popped in. "Duh, is more fish in your contract?"

Riffraff gave me a questioning look.

I gave him a `whatever' face.

He clapped his paws, and off I went.

"Make that six fishes," Hector called. "One for me and Wordsworth, and five for Mongo."

It wasn't as difficult as it sounded. I probably could have opened my own restaurant in that place, making money and avoiding future problems.

If only I knew.

Amanda soon lost interest. "I'm going back to the apartment."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You were gung ho on this slavery business from the get-go. Don't you want to...observe?"

"I don't know. I originally had this idea of you coming home from a hard day of slavery, and sleeping with me. Maybe every day. I'd drop by periodically, just to see how hard you were working...I really hadn't planned to stand around all day while you played waitress."

"I thought you liked me."

She looked pained. "I do, Drew. I do. But, you know, you're different after you found out we're related. You're exploring your feminine side...too much."

"I wouldn't have kissed Sneezer if you hadn't told me to," I said.

She reddened. "I know. I mean, that's fine, in fact, it kind of makes me hot, but, well, you're not even that close to him at this point. So why am I hanging around so much? Don't get me wrong, I'll still be there for you, like a sister..."

I nodded. "I'm boring. Got it."

Still, she kissed me on the mouth.

"Call me when you're done for the day. My bed is still available."

I reddened. Good idea or not, I didn't know where else I'd be sleeping that night. "I'll...do that."

Amanda put her Inspector Gadget watch on my wrist. "Button one gets Chips. Two is my apartment. Three is mom, and four is dad."

I squinted at the device. "There's nine buttons. What do the other five do?"

"I wouldn't touch them," she said.

"Oh...kay." I paused a moment. "Did me and Cupcake make you hot?"

She shook her head. "No. It made me laugh."

Dane entered the kitchen. "Are you taking off?"

My sister nodded.

"Take me along, please. It's boring here."

I glanced at the doorway. "I thought you liked Riffraff."

"Don't get me wrong," she said. "He's cool, but..." She frowned and stretched. "I'm sick of looking at this dump. Maybe I'm just tired. I don't know."

"You could probably draw more interesting scenery if you wanted to," I said.

"Yeah..." she said halfheartedly. "I don't know. I don't want to mess up the design."

"All right," I said. "Good night, I guess. Good luck getting rest around here."

That left Sneezer and Extra.

Sneezer wasn't going anywhere. He kept playing with my tail, and Extra, well, he mostly spent all his time perching on my head and shoulders, or hiding in my pockets.

When I brought out the food, Dane was telling Riffraff and Cleo congratulations, and following Amanda out.

I went back to fanning my `pharaoh.'

"About this free market system..." Riffraff said. "Say I decided to make mallets, and anvils..."

I explained to him how Bill Gates made a startup company out of his garage, and how we'd have to do something similar to compete with Acme.

"That will be your assignment for later," he said.

I decided to interpret this as "Pursue it at your own leisure," because that's the only way I intended to do it.

He had me clean up, fluff pillows, feed him grapes, and massage his back. When I stopped being a cute bird, or rat, he ordered me to go back to fanning him.

Cleo was confused. Half the time, she looked jealous, but at other times, she just grinned at my humiliation, or, during a couple strange moments, actually gave me the eye, like she found me cute or something.

Of course, she played it off and acted like she wasn't doing that, and even looked disgusted when I turned into bird woman.

But yeah, I wasn't the only sketchy thing hanging around that place.

Foot massages aren't as gross when the subject is animated, so I didn't care that much when Riffraff asked for one. The same went for massaging the other cats.

The massage tables, conveniently, came from Hammer Space.

"How do you pay the Hammer Space bill if you don't have jobs?" I asked.

"Ixnay on the amerspace hay," he said.

"We'll pay it when we find another contest or money making scheme," Hector said as I pounded his back. "They always come around. You aim for first place, then sell off the second or third place prize you always get. We got five hundred bucks for that bronze comedy trophy we sold off."

"Drew just gave me an idea for our next scheme," Riffraff said. "What was that scheme called again?"

"Home business," I groaned. "And it's not simple. You actually work harder to get anywhere with one of those than you would a regular job with an existing company."

"Duh, is that like working from home?" Mongo said.

"Yeah."

"I always wanted to earn money from home."

Typical fat guy, I thought. "It's great if you don't like to relax at home."

Suddenly I heard a doorbell ring.

Yeah. I don't get it, either. They had a pull rope outside, with a bell.

When I answered the door, I saw a monkey in a suit, with a clipboard. "Is this a bad time?"

I was in Florence mode. "What are you?"

"I'm a Survey Monkey," it said.

I sighed. "What do you want?"

"I'm willing to give you a hundred bucks if you fill out my survey!" And he waved a stack of cash at me.

"Well, I could use a few..."

I thought about snatching the dough, but I was a sport about it, taking the offered pen and filling in the blanks.

Name, address, phone.

Name of employer.

Employer address and phone.

The kind of stuff you put in for those `party for your office' contests at sub shops.

I put down the 1800 number for my office, as a matter of course for such surveys, but I had to dig out the George Washington coat to get the address.

The rest of the survey was complete rubbish.

"Do you like to eat beans?"

"Do you like George Wendt?"

"Do you like to watch movies featuring George Wendt while eating beans?"

And an additional page of various combinations of nouns and verbs involving beans and/or George Wendt.

When I was finished with that stupid exercise, the monkey snatched the clipboard away, shoved the hundred dollars into my hand, then laughed and chattered in an evil way, disappearing into a cloud of red-purple smoke.

"What was that about?" Sneezer said behind me.

"I don't know," I said, examining the money. "But I'm thinking I probably won't be getting a free catered party."