Sorry, Masque, haven't updated in a while...Kind of got distracted...But I finally did, so don't yell at me.


Munkustrap walked through the halls in silence. He hadn't found any of the other Jellicles, which was both good and bad. Tumblebrutus, Pouncival, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie couldn't bother him if they were nowhere to be found…

A strangled sob choked its way out of the shadows. Munkustrap turned the corner to find the Rum Tum Tugger, his mane perfectly curled into golden-brown ringlets, each one tied with a large pink ribbon.

Munkustrap was—literally—rolling on the floor and laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. Tugger's studded belt had been replaced with a frilly little skirt, his spiked collar's place filled with a pearl necklace. Pounds of make-up coated his face.

"Go away…or…the Fop will come for you too…" The Rum Tum Tugger's mumbled words had hardly been spoken before he lost consciousness, the fumes and feminism of everything contaminating every breath. Forget poor Jennyanydots, poor Tugger!


"Something's wrong with that cat," Little Jammes whispered to a fellow ballet rat.

Victoria pranced around the stage, out-dancing everyone in sight. Two—or, wait, now three—ballerinas had already dropped dead after realizing that a mere kitten possessed more ability than they did.

Etcetera and Electra scurried across the stage. Victoria turned to them happily as a fourth dancer died and another ran away sobbing. The two kittens were squealing in delight as they pulled Victoria away.

"Victoria, Victoria! Munkustrap says he's found Tuggy!"


Bombalurina stared in disgust at the woman before her. Madame Giry knelt in front of her, wearing—as usual—her old, ragged taffeta dress, stretching out a thin, grimy hand toward the cat. Bombalurina turned to Demeter, her red fur bristling.

"Has this woman no sense of fashion? I'd rather be with Macavity and his uncombed whiskers, sunken eyes and furrowed brow!"

The two cats started down the hall immediately, leaving a confused Madame Giry behind.

Meg, being as moronic as all little girls are, had strayed from Christine's side. She had not, however, lost her desire to conquer all of France and the surrounding areas.

Much to her dismay, Jemima had stumbled upon the young Meg Giry. Now, Meg, being as egotistical as all little girls are, thought she was the most adorable person in the entire opera house (when we all know it's Erik). Upon seeing Jemima and realizing that she was no longer the cutest creature ever, she became angry. Very angry; so unbelievably angry that she was really, really mad.

"Rawr!" Meg roared, glaring at the kitten. "I can't take over the world if I'm not the cutest person in it!"

"Mew?" Jemima mewed, looking up at Meg with those big old Jemima eyes of hers.

Meg Giry dropped dead.


Five cats...In one chapter...Spiffy, huh?