The ginger tom was hard at work all night and didn't stop at morning. He couldn't stop thinking about Demeter and Munkustrap and… their kits. Macavity wished he hadn't have gone to the Junkyard. Perhaps he could have saved himself the masochistic torture. But his thoughts were racing now. He was going to do something incredibly evil, if it killed him. He would have rather smothered those kits' minds in the womb of the gold queen, but that wouldn't have made him feel any better. The Hidden Paw didn't want physical harm, but emotional pain, and he'd get that from the Junkyard cats.

As he scribbled in a legal pad, scratching out words, and writing more under or above them, he could hear the soft tidal purrs of his Persian agent. He growled lowly and sighed. "What do you want, Griddlebone? I'm busy."

"Good!" she stated cheerfully. "I was just checking to see that you were. I believe quite a few henchcats wanted to see what their boss came up with for a plan." She walked up behind him and grinned. "What is your brilliant plan then?"

Macavity saw the white queen's eyes skimming over his legal pad. He seethed and put his pen on his desk. "I know a method of mysticism that allows me to cast spells on the type of cat one is. I think I might wield that to my advantage." The ginger tom noticed her roll her eyes and looking slightly less impressed. "You don't think it's a good idea?" he asked, though he didn't really care for her opinion.

"That's just it." She said blandly. "It's just an idea. Where's the chaotic insane madness that we've come to know and love from you?"

"I'm working all the madness out on paper first, if that's fine with you, Griddlebone!" he spat at her.

The Persian queen backed off, rolling her eyes again. "Fine then. But that better be ready by tomorrow."

"It will! Quit nagging me!" Griddlebone was well out of earshot by the time he said that. He rolled his eyes, taking a swig of whiskey he had sitting next to him. It was the only thing keeping him conscious. He stared over the names and types he had each Jellicle pegged as:

Munkustrap. Well, he could have been anything to Macavity, but because he wanted it to be accurate, the ginger tom wrote' pragmatical' by his name.

Mungojerrie. Well, he was a rough tom to choose for. He didn't know him well. He didn't know a lot of his agents well. But he did know that Jerrie wouldn't want to hurt a fly, even when he was ordered to. A fanatical cat, to say the least.

Rumpleteazer. She didn't differ much from Mungojerrie, besides being a bit ditsy. That was why she was probably coupled with fanatical and could be labeled as a dramatical cat.

Tugger. Pfft. Easiest one yet. That narcissistic asshole could only be a hypocritical cat. Nothing else could suite him better. He told kits all this stuff that he couldn't follow with himself. Such an idiot.

Bombalurina. A romantical cat, without a doubt. The scarlet queen was suited in the fine art of pleasure and love. She learned by herself how to lure in the unsuspecting, and made a fool out of any tom that crossed her. She was a mastermind at heart.

Demeter. … what was there to say? This was the queen that broke his heart and couldn't look at him without recoiling in horror. Dyspeptical, maybe? The ginger tom shook his head. He couldn't think of her that way. At the very lightest, he would have to call her a skeptical cat. Untrusting of anyone, unsure… He knew perfectly well that he made her like that.

Griddlebone. Parasitical. Period.

Macavity looked over his list over and over again. The names and types filled the yellow page dully. Reading them over didn't seem to make any sense to him. It took him a few moments to figure out that he hadn't figured out his own type. The ginger tom quickly scribbled his name at the bottom.

Macavity.

… He left it there for a few minutes. What could he put down that would be honest enough for anyone? They all hated him. Feared him, even. Was there anything he could write on the page that would make sense to anyone? Well, before he wrote any of them out, the Hidden Paw began putting down spells to cast later. Way later. He'd find a way to entrance them later, and ruin their lives even worse than he'd done by now. The ginger tom laid his head down on his desk.

He stared at his pen horizontally before scribbling a word on to the pad:

Cynical.

Maybe he was being hard on himself, but didn't he deserve it? After everything he had done now, shouldn't he conclude that he was the evil cat now? Macavity paused and shook his head. There was no other word he could use for his malignance anymore. The Napoleon of Crime began reviewing conjuring words in his head as he began to fall asleep…

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