Chapter 1: Mice Aren't Nice
"… That is the prophecy that first awakened ThunderClan," Mudpelt informed lazily.
"So the next part is where they fall into the time machine and defeat Darth Vader, the Evil Twoleg, right?" Saberkit asked brightly. Mudpelt looked incredulous.
"Who told you that?" he asked sharply.
"Uh, you did actually," Turtlekit pointed out. "Yesterday."
"Well, that's because I wanted to, um… uh…" Mudpelt swerved his paw, trying to find the word he was looking for.
"It's okay to lie," Bluekit chirped.
"He's so cute when he's stupid," Rosekit murmured dreamily.
"ANYWAY," Mudpelt interrupted. "That's the prophecy. The kittypet we know as Rusty first joined the Clan in a peculiar way…
Rusty scanned the dark forest with his brilliant green eyes. He was bored and lost and felt like going home. Yet he walked on, a sound ahead bringing his paws forward on silent haunches.
Some to this day say it was StarClan themselves calling Rusty. Some say it was the caterwaul of either a dying warrior or a dying badger. Some say it was the sound of a voles's feet scuttling on the forest floor. But it is believed it was a mouse that Rusty heard.
The ginger tom crouched, ready to lunge into the clearing and claim the mouse's life. He wasn't that hungry—not as hungry as he could be. He lunged in a swift motion and jumped on top squarely, licking his lips hungrily.
"Look, if you're going to pounce on someone, why me?" Rusty gave a small jump of surprise. The mouse was talking!
"You think I have it hard enough, with owls and foxes and Twolegs around," the mouse chattered angrily. "And then there's my wife and my thirty-two teenagers who couldn't help less. And I'm bowled over by some stupid kittypet. This is just so stupid."
Rusty didn't know what to say. "Who are you?" he asked unsteadily.
"Your worst nightmare!" the mouse squeaked as he began to morph and twist in terrible shapes! It was obvious he was turning into an evil dog, slobbering and blood lusting! And Rusty was trapped in his dreams! He closed his eyes, scared to death.
Nothing happened for a while. He opened his eyes and realized the mouse was gone, probably safe in its burrow by now.
"You just got owned," the stars seemed to laugh above him. But of course, stars don't talk.
"Oh, shut up," Rusty murmured as he woke up into the real world.
One of his Twoleg owners was lazily dropping his food pellets into his bowl; although much more ended up on the floor. Then the Twoleg, listening to some cursed earphones, filled his water bowl up too high before clearly humming that Mr. Pibb plus Red Vines equaled crazy delicious. Rusty stepped out to eat the scattered food as his owner continued to hum that it was gonna reach in its pocket and pull out some dough, and that the girl acted like she'd never seen a ten before.
As the Twoleg murmured something about Chronicwhatcles of Narnia, Rusty reminded himself to avoid his owner's computer tonight. He ate some more of the dry food, wishing he hadn't been outwitted by the mouse earlier. More importantly, he wished he hadn't been outwitted by an imaginary mouse.
He walked through the garden, pretending he was a flamingo. As a flamingo, Rusty "flew" to the top of the fence, surveying the world beyond. His Twolegs seemed to be calling him—it was either them or they had the computer volume up again. The last time they did that to the computer, the neighbors threw eggs at the house, and Rusty had watched as his owners retaliated by dropping the other Twoleg's cupcakes in their garbage disposal.
Rusty decided to stay out tonight. His Twolegs would be up half the night typing strange characters on their computer and laughing out loud while Rusty tried to get some sleep. Or they might listen to Twolegs screeching about cupcakes to a catchy beat. Or they might squash him with the keyboard. No, Rusty was perfectly content where he was. Well, not exactly.
His flamingo instinct caused his curiosity. He flew off the garden post to the ground, his collar's bell ringing as he did. Rusty's flamingo instinct made him gallop like an idiot towards the woods, until a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Are you off to find Atlantis again Rusty?" Rusty whipped around to see Smudge, a friendly black-and-white kitten.
He momentarily wondered why he was friends with Smudge before huffing indignantly, "I just want to go look into the forest."
"You know it's dangerous!" Smudge began. "It's filled with evil wildcats, raging rivers and horrible she-cats! They'll eat you alive! Then your owners will have nothing to do with your food but give it to me…" His voice trailed away in apparent indecision. "I change my mind, Rusty. Go ahead out there! You might want to get some mouse-scent on your pelt before you go." He licked his lips. "Think of all the food your Twolegs will be giving me when they realize you're gone…"
Rusty shrugged. "But don't touch my squeaky rubber mousy when I'm gone!" he warned before running into the shade provided from the canopy.
He listened intently. Maybe Rusty'd get lucky for once and find a mouse. But of course, he's been known to have quite the luck. Such was the case.
He fell into the right crouch through absolute randomness and began to creep forward to the rodent. And almost to mock him, the mouse whirled around. With a powerful tackle, the mouse had slammed Rusty to the ground, and he now found himself flailing before the cute, cuddly critter. He tried to wheel away, but this was a mouse, after all. He stopped suddenly with an idea, He seemed to freeze for a few seconds as the mouse looked quite triumphant.
Rusty whirled up and began to run for—well not exactly his life… so, he just ran… Or something… like that… Yeah…
He knew he would never be able to escape from the mouse. It was too strong. Rusty turned. If it were going to be a fight, he'd face it like the fat overfed kittypet he was! The mouse rammed into him, causing Rusty to lose balance, but he was able to crush the mouse quite badly on the way down.
The rodent scampered off, wheezing from loss of breath before collapsing, regaining posture, and beginning to groom.
"Hello kittypet!" the mouse chirped suddenly, removing any sense of hostility, and licking its paws calmly. Rusty blinked.
"I've just been shown up by a mouse," he echoed. "Wait a minute, what was the entire point of that?"
"Beats me, I assumed you knew what the heck we were doing," the mouse said. "Uh oh, I smell cat. Gotta run!" And with that, he ran into the brush.
A gray kitten popped out of the bushes. "Wow!" he exclaimed with wide amber eyes. "You defeated that mouse! This deserves a Nobel Peace Prize, nominated by me, Graypaw of ThunderClan!"
"I want an Emmy!" Rusty cried before running again. Graypaw was not far behind with the Peace Prize, though.
"But I want to give you this useless hunk of metal," Graypaw whined back. And with that, he threw it at Rusty, causing a mild concussion. "Oops. Peace Prize my tail! This shiny award's a murderer!" Graypaw suddenly realized something. SHINY! He batted it, entranced with full stupidity of a kit.
"Don't tell me you've killed another one, Graypaw," a blue-gray she-cat growled as she strolled into the scene. "My StarClan, you're freakin' six moons old and a mass murderer! What do you have to say for yourself!"
"Yeah," added a golden tabby as he walked in too. "Darn it, how did you win that piece of metal anyway?"
"Lionheart, you know I'm the discoverer of the discoverer of the discovery of the fact that the universal answer is forty-two," Graypaw pointed out. "And this cat's not dead. Just, uh… not living… currently… kind of, sort of… not really… okay! I killed him! But it was an accident!"
Bluestar sighed. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
Rusty opened his eyes. He didn't feel very good. He felt like a piece of metal had been thrown at high speeds and caused a mild concussion. He turned his head and realized a piece of metal had been thrown at high speeds and caused a mild concussion. "I'm alive," Rusty pointed out lightly, standing up.
"Okay," Bluestar began. "Blah, blah, blah, good fighting skills, blah, blah, blah, good eyes, blah, laddyda, would have caught the mouse should you not have been being chased by it, blah, blah, blah, never enough to go around, blah, blah, menacing growl, blah." By the end of her speech, Bluestar looked furious, and towered above Rusty with the other cats.
"This sucks," Rusty thought aloud. "I only got to live for six months!"
That's when Graypaw realized how shiny the Nobel peace prize looked in the moonlight, leaving the angered ThunderClan members as he pawed it halfway the clearing at the almost unnoticed fox.
Guess who's on a sugar high? Best time for writing this sort of stuff though. And thanks to my reviewers. Love ya guys, you're really great --Thumbs Up!-- See yah next hyperish time!
