Hey all….apparently I wasn't quite as specific as I thought last chapter. All questions come from you, the reviewers. Feel free…..no, please do ask your questions. Without them, this fic would wither and die! Of course, that is also a shameless plea for reviews.
Disclaimer: um, I don't think T. would fan girl over his own creation.
Another day and Misto was checking his email again, ever listening for his owners….
DEAR MISTAH MISTOFFELEES!
We all know that Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a notorious couple of cats... and there's nothing at all to be done about that...
BUT WHAT IF THERE WAS SOMETHING TO BE DONE ABOUT THAT?
Think about it, Misto. Just think about it.
Do it.
Yeah.
Merci, mon petit bureau de change!
Robyn-Enjolras
He batted his ear with his paw while he thought of a response….
Dear Robyn-Enjolras
Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer are just full of themselves. There is something to be done about that, trust me. And really, they aren't all that notorious once you leave London (TAKE THAT, MUNGOJERRIE!) Sorry, that was kitten-ish…..Anyway, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer really are bumbling idiots that are determined to ruin my good time…Like this one time when they died my fur pink. Yes. Pink.
Hope I answered your question, Madame.
Mr. Mistoffelees.
I was hanging out in the Junkyard, trying not to laugh at Tugger's attempts to woo Bombalurina. Tugger turned to me…I was supposed to set the mood, but I felt like laughing at him, so I hadn't. "What's the matter, Tug? Rat got your tongue?"
Tugger glared, the look practically saying 'YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE HELPING ME, NOT MAKING FUN OF ME!'
I burst out laughing right there and then. The look on Tugger's face had been priceless! On the other hand…this is the kind of thing you might want to beware of retribution with.
A couple of days later, I decided that the cost was clear…well, clear enough from fangirls and the occasional Etcy-glomp. So I ventured out to my favorite spot in the Junkyard…the hat I pulled seven kittens out of, according to Tugger. But that's another story. Anyway, once I got there, I cocked my head, confused…normally the hat was smaller. Now it was at least as tall as Munkustrap, maybe taller! I clambered up anyway, ignoring the instinct not to trust the suddenly tall hat. Unfortunately, my…um…less than normal…weight unbalanced the hat, and when it tipped, a can of pink paint was thrown on my head. The paint can read…Oi 'ope ya loike Pink, Mistah Mistoffeloser! ~Mungojerrie an' Rumpleteaser~