Author's Note: This was the last chapter that was already written. Now I have to write more.
Michel & Josette
Chapter 30: It's Time to Duel!
Michel relaxed on his bed on a Saturday evening. The window was open in his room and was allowing a soft and cool breeze blow inside. Everything was calm and peaceful. Bartholomew was curled up on the ground beside his bed, too lazy to go to her own room.
Michel put his hands behind his head and sighed in contentment. He was busy thinking about Josette like he usually did. He was very glad that everything was cleared up and that everyone now knew that Faux was the one to blame.
"Bartholomew, this is the life," Michel breathed, serene.
Bartholomew cracked an eye open, annoyed at Michel's voice. She just wanted to nap in peace.
"Everything is so right," Michel continued.
Bartholomew sighed.
"One day…Josette and I are going to be together," Michel promised himself, grinning stupidly. "We're going to be together forever and it's going to be amazingly magical!"
Bartholomew rolled her eyes.
"Don't you agree, Bartholomew?" Michel questioned his feline.
Bartholomew got to her feet and jumped onto the bed, tired of Michel's talking. She hissed at him and unsheathed her claws, ready to attack.
Michel looked at her, perplexed. "Huh? What's the matter, silly cat? Are you hungry or something?"
"Mrrrrrr…." Bartholomew growled.
Michel tilted his head to the side, blinking a few times. He wasn't sure what was wrong with his pet.
"You okay?" he asked her.
Fed up, Bartholomew pounced onto him, scratching his cheek hard and drawing some blood.
"OUCH!" Michel hollered, holding his cheek in pain. "What has gotten into you?!"
Bartholomew got into a fighting stance, glaring at her master in rage and annoyance. She wasn't messing around this time.
"You…you want to duel?" Michel wanted to know, eyes widening.
Bartholomew resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Let us duel then!" Michel exclaimed, putting on a determined expression.
"Mrrrow!" Bartholomew yowled and wasted no time in jumping onto Michel's face.
Seconds later, Michel lost.
Bartholomew won, but she was still hungry.
Michel just lay there on the ground, weeping and wondering what went wrong.