HELLO AGAIN, FRIEND OF A FRIEND

WE COME AGAIN TO BRING YOU GIFTS AND GLORIES

AND HAVEN'T WE GOT A GOOD GIFT FOR YOU THIS WEEK

BECAUSE IT'S WHISKERS AND WHEELS CHAPTER 2! PERHAPS THE BEST GIFT OF THEM ALL!

BUT ENOUGH OF THAT - DID YOU GUYS SEE GAME OF THRONES? PRETTY SURPRISING, RIGHT?

LIKE IT WAS PRETTY EARLY ON IN THE SERIES FOR THEM TO REVEAL THAT IMPORTANT THING, RIGHT?

WHO WOULD HAVE EXPECTED TOMMEN TO GET SO ANGSTY AS EARLY AS HE DID?

IMAGINE IF SER POUNCE COULD SEE HIM NOW - NO DOUBT HE'D HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO THAT!

ANYWAY, ON WITH THE NARRATIVE

Chapter 2 - Villainy Is Afoot - Although It Is Not Just Limited To That Body Part

A week has passed since the magical resurrection at the benevolent paw of one Ser Pounce, and as a result of some unexpected circumbendibus adventuring, the two find themselves in a bit of a pickle! Heck, not just a bit of a pickle, but a whole jar of the little vinegary bastards! For you see, the two had, in a devious ploy, feigned love towards a fair-complexioned hoity-toity dairymaid, in order to swindle her out of her cream and other such dairy produce! Why do they need such dairy products, we hear you ask? Why, they'd only just received a messenger pelican from our dear friend the fisherman, who was requesting some cream in order to make the perfect CREAM HADDOCK DISH!

But what Ser Pounce and Doran didn't know was that pelicans are illegal in this unspecified land into which they have stumbled; we are not aware of why, though we can assume that it is down to some unorthodox countryside superstition, like how pelicans probably steal babies with their big mouths and steal them as their own. And so midway through Doran's pouring of cream into the beak of the pelican, he turned around to see an angry mob of pitchfork-wielding countryfolk, waving their farmyard equipment in a somewhat menacing fashion!

And that is how the two heroes found themselves in a fusty old prison cell, where the only company they had were each other and perhaps even some moss.

'Ser Pounce!' exclaimed Doran. 'You have forever been an inventor of good ideas, for this entire week in which I have known you!' Doran is, you see, a rather trusting fellow, perhaps explaining why he got stabbed and didn't see it coming, even though the stabber was so obviously evil and machiavellian and bitchy that just talking about her here makes me want to spit. 'Have you concocted a death-defying plan to help us escape from the confines of this cell?'

Ser Pounce sat quietly, deep in thought, his whiskers bristling with the effort. And suddenly, with a sudden stroke of genius, an idea hit him, like an intelligence thunderbolt. But with it, a look of sadness, of grief. 'Dear friend Doran, I have a plan! That rhyme was entirely unintentional, yet I shall take credit for it anyway!' He allowed himself a brief moment to pat himself on the back. Then back to seriousness. 'Doran, my plan… it will only get me out.' He forced the words out between blubbering sobs, tears streaming down his fuzzy face. Doran started crying too.

'B-but Doran! Never fear!' He hid his face from Doran in shame. 'I shall come back for you! I… I never leave a friend behind!' He couldn't bear to look at Doran's face. They both knew the unspoken meaning behind Ser Pounce's words, the sincerity of the statement and what such a sacrifice will mean for both of them.

Doran wiped away the tears. 'I have only known you a short time, but I am proud to call you my friend. You must do what you must do. I will be waiting.'

'As if you're going anywhere. You're in a cell and your legs don't work. But I appreciate the emotion you show.'

Ser Pounce began to make his daring escape, as he walked towards the jail bars, and, slippery as a little snakesman, he slipped through the bars. For you see, prison cells aren't made for cats.

Ser Pounce opened the door. 'See, Doran? I came back!'

The two laughed. Doran was like, 'But, Ser Pounce! Even though you have freed me from this cell, how can I escape? This building is not wheelchair accessible, and my feeble legs cannot possibly carry me much further than, oh I don't know, five or six feet? That is merely a rough approximation, because the writers are unsure if I am permanently disabled in my legs or if I just get a bit faint, and instead of actually just Googling it, they are instead writing a long fuck-off paragraph about it to make it funnier. Yet regardless of quibbles from pettifogging pernickety pricks, the fact is I'm kind of stuck here. What oh what will I do?' he wailed in anguish.

Ser Pounce snapped his fingers. 'Doran! Don't worry! You've had it in you all along!' Suddenly, Doran was wrenched upwards with a spritely bound, like the grandad in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 'Look at me! Look at me! Hopping about!' he exclaimed with glee. Another unintentional rhyme. For you see, we take inspiration from all the great writers, and that right there was our take on Edgar Allen Poe, who was often criticised for making his prose too poetic. But we say, good on you Edgar Allen Poe! It's 2016, why can't we just accept the works of Edgar Allen Poe! Why aren't people raving about 'The Raven', telling tales about 'The Tell-Tale Heart'?

But I digress. Doran is jumping around, whoosh crikey fun. And thus the two begin their daring escape, by which I mean, the two walk straight out the door. There's no-one around, because who would even expect anyone to escape from prison? I mean, come on, it's prison, it's supposed to keep people in. And most prisons don't take in cats, hence the reason they may not have anticipated such tomfoolery. But I guess they'll learn from this little mistake, and perhaps even build some cat-proof prisons, lest this little kitty comes back to town!

As the two near the exit of the prison, they stumble across - gasp! Doran's wheelchair! Whilst he needn't take the wheelchair, now that he has working legs (did he have them before? Who even knows.), you do not understand how expensive wheelchairs are in Westeros. Like if they were cheap, fuckin' everyone would have a wheelchair, because they're just kind of fun to have. Like you know in 'Misfits', where the young delinquents spend their time faffing about and cruising the corridors of the community centre in their wheelchairs? Yeah, it's like that, wheelchairs are bare fun. But no, wheelchairs are really expensive. Think back to your time watching Game of Thrones; did you ever see another wheelchair other than the one that Doran owns? No, you didn't. And if you think you did… well, we're not wrong, so it must be you who's wrong. For you see, Doran has the only wheelchair in Westeros, which is a good band name I think. So of course, he couldn't leave it behind.

But it's a good thing that Doran had only just sat down. For you see, HORROR HAD STRUCK! UNEXPECTED JELLY-BASED HORROR!

A vivid blue laser beam slammed into Doran's legs! From a freak direction! Completely unanticipated and overall unappreciated! The laser beam buzzed and zapped, perhaps making some other sci-fi noises as well (but that's up to the reader to decide), briefly illuminating Doran's legs with a dull blue light, before flashing with an x-ray flash to reveal that all the bones in Doran's legs had gone! No bones there! You may as well call him Dead Legs Doran! Which you may have been able to do before! Because his legs didn't work! Or maybe they did! Who even knows?!

'Fucker!' shouted Ser Pounce. He recognised this handiwork! He knew the evil hand that had committed such atrocities as this before! He left Doran to his newfound disappointment at having being given working legs and then having such a gift instantly swiped away from his feeble grasp, and marched outside as only a cat can do.

As he swung the prison doors open, standing outside were two figures; an alien, and a lizard. The alien was really fucking tall, and grey, as all aliens are, and in his hand he carried a smoking ray gun with all blinking lights and other such unnecessary gimcrack shit. This alien knew that he was futuristic, and he wanted everyone else to know it. Even though this seems unnecessary, since he's in like a fantasy world, and the extent of their technology is like sharp sticks. Although we did have like a steampunk mech in the last story we wrote, powered by bears and prostitutes, but that was a feasible creation that befitted the overall tone of the story. Laser guns are owned only by cunts.

The lizard, meanwhile, was quite a cool lizard. It sat atop a red cushion placed upon a small podium, and the lizard wore a rather ostentatious headdress, all pink feathers and gilded filigree. The lizard wasn't especially big - if anything, it was slightly substandard as lizards go - but what it lacked in size it made up for in fashion.

'PENU!' screamed Ser Pounce, fire in his belly and froth speckling his lips as he gets really fucking riled up at the sight of this adversary. And this is Ser Pounce we're talking about, the gentlest of souls, hard to make angry and harder to make horny. But that's unrelated. 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU INTERSTELLAR PENIS?!'

'~Aah, Ser Pounce!~' said the alien known as Penu, in a voice not dissimilar to a small child playing with an alien voice changer. Though there was no child-like innocence here - only a cunt with a laser gun. '~We have come to steal all of this world's LEAVES!~'

'BASTARD!' cried Ser Pounce. 'We need those to breathe and stuff! The oxidisation caused by trees is necessary for our survival as a species!' He looked to the right, at the lizard, and it's smug face. How could a lizard look smug? This one managed it. 'And… you? What are you-'

'It is I, Fernandez, royal emissary of the Great Bloodline Mexi-Go.' He spoke in a dolorous tone, like the chimes of a churchyard bell. 'The Mexi-Gonian empire has sent me in their stead, to seek revenge against you, Ser Pounce. Thrice aeons past, you entered our homeland under the false pretences of fixing our thermostat, and then proceeded to drink large quantities of the land's tequila, and get royally fucked up and generally make an ass of yourself. It was really embarrassing and made us all look bad. How dare you.'

'SLANDER!' Ser Pounce cried. 'Defamatory slander against my good name!' He downed a vodka and coke to prove his point. 'Alright, you dickheads! Which of you am I going to beat up first?!'

'~Fool! Neither of us can be beaten in battle today! Did you not see what we did to your dear friend?~' Penu gestured to where Doran was suffering a severe case of the morbs, totally bummed out at this sudden slightly shitty turn of events.

'That's why I want to beat you up! You took his legs, and now you plan to take our leaves! What else could you take from us? And you, you scaly cacafuego, you are nought but a slanderous shite!'

'Not true. You totally suck.' Then the two villains laughed and high-fived. 'There's nothing you can do to stop us!' The two begin to float upwards, caught in a UFO levitation beam that had suddenly appeared amidst all the commotion and arguing. 'All your worlds' leaves belong to us! And we shall use them for evil purposes!'

'~Oh, and one more thing! It says 'gullible' on the ceiling.' Ser Pounce looked up, curious as to how someone could have climbed so high up as to write 'gullible' on the - WAIT! He was outside! There is no ceiling out in that nebulous place! Oh, by their powers of pranking had he been outclassed! He hung his head in shame as the two bastards flew up into the spaceship laughing at their clever joke, before the UFO phased out of existence.

Ser Pounce didn't hang his head for long. He raised his fuzzy fist into the sky, shaking it in barely suppressed rage at these two villains! He knew fully well that the efforts of these two grumbletonians would threaten all the good in the world, the world that he so dearly loved, and the only way of remedying the strife and turmoil that they threaten to spread with their dickish behaviour is by granting them a quick dowse on the chops. He considered the logistics of punching a lizard. Would you pick up the lizard and punch it? Or would you just like smash your fist down onto the cushion on which it sits? How he wished that the prison was taller, so that he could climb up onto it and fly into their hovercraft and test out the two methods for effectiveness. But no matter; villains and their treachery leaves a trail, (in this case a trail of leaf-less trees), a trail that is easily picked up on by two radical heroes! But Ser Pounce, make sure to be careful, because you know what they say… curiosity killed the cat! Although Doran is not a cat, so I guess he could be curious if need be. I mean we haven't fleshed out his character yet, so 'curious' is one personality trait he could have. But also, watch out for laser guns, lads. That fucks up everyone, regardless of species.

THE END

NOTHING HAPPENED THIS CHAPTER

I GUESS THAT'S THE DOWNSIDE OF NOT PLANNING THIS IN THE SLIGHTEST

I MEAN I DID HAVE AN IDEA ABOUT AN OLD MAN WITH A LOAD OF SWANS

AND PERHAPS EVEN SOME REDHEAD BARMAIDS

BUT WE NEVER GOT ROUND TO USING THEM

WE HIT A SLUMP

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT SLUMPS

AFTER EVERY GOOD SLUMP, THERE'S A BETTER… SLIMP

REOHAIGUHWEAUI