Wooot! Last Day! (And just on time too!) I'm going to do an "unofficial" outro that wouldn't necessarily be required for the story (if only because I'm really busy and can't get it in on time) coming out in a couple days to tie this all together.

I can't wait to see where I stand in the ratings!

"Hey toes for brains!" Munkustrap opened his eyes to find Macavity's small, furry head poking out from under the blanket next to him. "Let's wake up Rummy and make him cry again."

Munkustrap glanced across their room to the small bundle of the little Rum Tum Tugger wrapped snugly in his blankets. He just looked so small and tiny and innocent… and absolutely ridiculous with that patchy, uneven mane. "What do you wanna do?"

Pushing into the pillows, Macavity rose into a crouch and eyed the sleeping tom kit, his tail whipping against Munkustrap. "We can throw him."

"But then he'll start screaming," Munkustrap whined, burying his face into the blankets and yanking the edges around him as the ginger cat was letting out the heat. "I don't want Mum and Dad to get all mad like last time. Somethin' else."

The older brother hmmed and lay back down with a thoughtful nod. It was times like these that Macavity seemed glad to have a partner in crime, and times like these that Munkustrap was glad to impress his older brother. "I've got it. Go wake up the space-filler."

Munkustrap groaned and whined and chuffed, but got up anyway while Macavity scampered off into the other room. With an awkward poke, he nudged the blond puffball awake. "Hey, Tug, wake up."

In the palely lit room Munkustrap could see the kitten squint up at him, moving a sluggish paw to rub the sleep from his eye. "Why? What are you doing, Strappy?" Ugh, he hated Tugger's stupid nicknames; Macavity called him Munkustrap or sometimes Killer which was pretty cool. Strappy isn't cool.

"We— umm… Mac wants to play a game."

"A game? What kind of game?"

The door to their room closed with a soft thud and the warm, orangy glow of fire flickered over from behind. "A really cool game, trust me," Macavity hissed and skipped over their beds to plop down by the two younger toms, a big box under his arm.

In between the three, Macavity set the box aside and opened the lid to pull out what looked to be a human cutting board loaded with inscriptions, a few he recognized to be human lettering. "What is that, Macavity?" Munkustrap asked, his nose crinkling at the old moldy smell.

"This," Macavity announced, pulling out a candle from the box and lit it with the small match in his hand. "Is a Ouija board. It contacts ghosts!"

Ah yes, the infamous Ouija board, known for its sketchy ability to contact dead cats and spook the wits out of unsuspecting kittens. Yes, Munkustrap knew this board well. He just didn't know how Macavity got a hold of one and how he managed to keep it hidden from their parents."G-ghosts?" Tugger gasped and hid deeper into his blankets.

"Yes, ghosts, Tugsy-Wugsy." Macavity's glare was sharp and merciless, his disappointed shrug a stab to the ego that even settled into the flippant and disinterested maned kit. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Clearly he did, Munkustrap needn't but smell the tiny puff ball to get the message as clear as a kick to the nethers. "N-no. Sounds like fun."

"Where'd you even get that?" Munkustrap inquired; it definitely didn't come from someone inside the junkyard.

Macavity's eyes went wide with warning. "From a possessed fortune teller by the Clocktower. Now, does anyone have anymore questions? Good. Let's begin!"

The setup was plain and the board was ugly looking but something about it still set off Munkustrap's kittenish fear. It was no secret that Ouija boards were something dangerous and if they, the "Jellicle princes" (as taunted by Bombalurina though Munkustrap must admit it sounded pretty neat), were caught it would mean hell to pay for everyone. "Are there even any ghosts in—"

"Wait!" Macavity hissed and brought his paws down to slam dramatically on the tiny tear-drop cursor. Immediately the thing started going bezerk and zipping around the board. "I'm getting something."

Tugger's eyes went wider than saucers, and Munkustrap was admittedly freaked. Whimpering softly, Munkustrap watched their little brother burrow deeper into his blankets until there was nothing of him save for the shine of two terrified golden eyes. "Wha-what is it, Mac?"

Just then Macavity threw his head back, mouth hanging wide open, shaking like a leaf with his paws following the spastic darts over the Ouija board. "Who are you?! What do you want?!" he pleaded.

A low whine and Tugger shot out of his blankets to Munkustrap's side, hiding behind the silver tabby and clutching his arm as he shook and choked back tears. Munkustrap shushed him and watched on warily as Macavity rocked and called out to the spirits "Who are you?!"

Suddenly everything stopped. The small slider, the ginger cat's paws, his screams, his shaking— everything just went still. Macavity smiled. "The fiend of the fell" he growled.

Beside him Tugger cried and buried himself so deep into his side it almost hurt. Their older brother watched the little kitten cower and hide his face into Munkustrap's armpit. The two toms shared a quick wink and Munkustrap picked up where non-possessed Macavity left off; "F-fiend of the… the fell, what…" he gulped for effect and to give him time to pull Tugger forward a little bit. Poor kit was white as a sheet and ready to vomit his supper. "…what do you want?"

Again they watched Macavity's lips peel back over his glistening fangs and lick the dry skin around his mouth. Lolling his head from side to side, the creature pondered before tossing his head forward to meet little Rummy's wide and watery face. "Rum Tum Tugger!"

On cue Munkustrap tightened his grip on Tugger and held his fast as the Fiend lowered his jowls onto the tiny blond head. "NO!" the kitten wailed and squirmed and cried and kicked until he wrenched free of his brother and made a dead-cat's dash to the door. His screams of "Mummy, Daddy!" echoing through the den.

Thankfully Rummy had been so unimaginably terrified that he'd failed to hear Macavity and Munkustrap hollering with laughter behind him.

"We-we're going to get in so much trouble!" Munkustrap wheezed through painful crashes of laughter.

Macavity, draped across his shoulder and holding him to keep from falling over, nodded against him and snorted breathlessly. "He squealed like a queen!" Munkustrap agreed with a shrill cry of "Mommy!" and they both fell into the blankets.

When the laughter died down and the sounds of Rummy's incessant crying could finally be heard Macavity froze and sat up to listen. "…Munk."

From his place on the floor, Munkustrap looked up at the ginger tabby and grinned. It quickly faded when Macavity's silly smile had faded and he watched the ground with morbid fascination. So he sat up and followed his brother's gaze back to the Ouija board.

The groovings Macavity has been picking at earlier had taken on a faint reddish glow and the slider was spinning wildly… and completely on its own. "Macavity… Macavity stop doing that."

"I'm not doing anything."

The two tom kits watched as the small cursor began to shuffle across the board, stopping at an odd marking or two before spinning a few moments then moving on to the next. Macavity stood up on his knees and leaned over the board to see. "Wha-what is it saying?"

"M… U…" The thing stopped, flung itself across the board, and began sliding over to the letters again. "N… K…"

Tears welled up at the back of his throat as the letters slowly continued to complete the set for his name. Macavity coughed when the board had reached the 'S' and flipped the board over, narrowly missing the candle he'd lit earlier. From there the tom picked up the board and flung it against the crumbing brick wall of their room where the thing cracked and splintered and crashed to the floor.

When Macavity would turn around he wouldn't find Munkustrap there. He would only find an empty room in the wake of his younger brother crying as he ran, "Mum! Dad!"

"DAD!" Two years later, in a den only a couple yards from his kittenhood home, Munkustrap woke up in a cold sweat, arms flailing for a father that would have been more than a little disturbed to hear his now grown son calling for him in the dead of night.

Paws, soft and comforting to a rational Munkustrap, grabbed his shoulders to shake him gently. But, again, only to a rational Munkustrap would any of this be gentle or comforting.

For the second time in the past 24 hours Mistoffelees had been the poor victim of trauma-induced assaults; the sudden jolt and adrenaline fueled flailing of Munkustrap's limbs lashed out and connected with the side of his face, knocking him off his arse back into the blankets. "For Cat's sake, Munk!" he spat.