Next chapter! So soon too!
Honestly, Quaxo didn't know any cat could get that fat. Bustopher was easily the fattest cat he had ever seen, and, he was sure, ever would see. The overweight tuxedo looked down at his nephew, obvious disgust crossing his features as he met his rusty brown eyes. "Quaxo, this is Domino's brother, Bustopher Jones. You might be going to live with him." Sorel explained as Quaxo opened his mouth to speak, obviously about to say something mean. "Right... Nice to meet you, Bustopher." Quaxo turned his gaze back to Sorel. "Can Alonzo and I go find the others now?" He asked the protector, and lack of respect for his uncle obviously offending the large tuxedo. "Alonzo, you can go, Quaxo, I think you should spend some time with Bustopher so that you get to know each other." Alonzo glanced between the two tuxedos, then gave Quaxo a apologetic look before running off. Quaxo watched his friend leave and heaved a sigh. "Fine." He turned his gaze to Bustopher. "What do you think of mystics?" The blatant question caused Bustophers eyes to widen and Sorel to grin and shake her head. "I'll leave you two to it." She bid, then turned and trotted off. Bustopher watched her go, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to make up an excuse for her to stay. After coming up with nothing, he sighed and turned back to the younger tom. "Well? I did ask you a question." Quaxo already hoped he knew what the answer would be. "Well... As many Jellicles do, I dislike Macavity, but I am quite fond of Maladren, Coricopat, and Tantomile. They use their abilities for the good of the tribe. Why do you ask?" Quaxo sighed softly and shook his head. "Never mind. What about..."
As the day wore on, Quaxo tried to get Bustopher to dislike him enough to refuse to take him in, but the more that the fat cat found out about his nephew, the more he seemed to like him. So, at the end of the day, it was decided that Quaxo would go to live with his uncle. This, of course, caused all of the other kids to beg for a different decision to be made, but their pleading made no difference. As Quaxo said goodbye to his friends, Alonzo pushed a piece of paper into his hand. "The others and I have all agreed. Come here if you like it." The black and white child whispered in his friends ear as they hugged. Quaxo nodded and promised that he would look into it, then was called away by his new guardian. As he left with his uncle, he waved goodbye until he was out of sight.
As soon as he had been shown to Bustophers owners, who all assumed that he was their cats son, a new bed was purchased, along with far more things than any cat could ever need. Quaxo was cooed over and dubbed 'Bustopher Jones J.R.' Or simply 'Jonesy'. Bustopher was beaning as if Quaxo was indeed his own kit, and Quaxo thought that, if this was what life would be like, with the constant pets and playtime, then he could live with it. Oh, how wrong that idea was. The next day, the humans left early and Bustopher decided to show Quaxo, who even he was now calling Jonesy, his favorite place to lunch. Although they ate their fill in the rich foods, Quaxo had already figured that he was not being shown around, but shown off. Bustopher would walk over to a group of his fellow, high society cats and proudly introduce 'Jonesy' as his nephew. Quaxo would be complemented on as if he were a human diamond ring, not a living cat. By the end if his first day with his uncle, he knew he had to get out of this 'civilized' place.
He gazed out of his rooms window, still somewhat unable to believe that he had his own room, and tried to find the Junkyard that he knew his best friends lived in. Unfortunately, that place was far from sight. He sighed and padded over to his overly-cushioned bed. It was too plump, too soft, to be real. The bed of blankets that he and Alonzo had shared the night before had been far better than this expensive one. Quaxo heaved another sigh and left his bed once more, the time settling on the cat house that sat next to the window. The lights of the night were fake, unreal in every sense of the word. Everything today had seemed fake. The rich foods hadn't been nearly as tasteful as the fresh mouse that he had shared with Alonzo the day before, nor as good as his breakfast the same days morning. The beds were fake. The toys were fake. Everything was fake.
With yet another sigh, Quaxo jumped off of his house and onto the windowsill. He glanced at his paws, took a deep breath, then focused on the window. He imagined strings of his magic tracing out and pushing the window open. A slight scraping noise broke his concentration and his eyes flew open. He grinned happily as he saw that the window was opened just enough for him to slid underneath it, and slide he did. Once out, he felt a great sense of relief. The night air held a slight crisp to it, a crisp that seemed heavenly to him right then. With a slight laugh of joy, he sprang onto a nearby tree and scrambled down to the ground. A broad grin of joy stretched across his face as he turned and darted off into the night.
The fresh night air brushed against his face as he ran. Where he was going, he wasn't sure, but he knew he had to escape Bustophers home. He had asked the older cat if everyday was like today had been, and the answer had been a dreaded yes. Quaxo couldn't imagine living in a home with hardly any humans, and always eating with people who show off their family and friends like prized possessions. Fence after fence, Quaxo scaled. He turned down alleys and dodged past the occasional peke or pollicle that had broken from its humans home. Eventually, he crashed full into a cat as he leaped over a fence, smashing the other feline to the ground as he landed. "Watch where you're going... stinking... Quaxo?" Quaxo quickly scrambled off of the tom, who he now realized was a jellicle, althoygh he couldn't tell which one while he was o top of him. "What is the name of the Everlasting Cat are you doing here?" The tom asked as he pulled himself up and dusted dirt from his mane. "Tugger! I... I..." Quaxo blushed slight as he saw that he had totally ruined the older toms prized mane. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." He muttered, scooting backwards until he ran into the fence. "Well, that much is obvious. I thought you went to stay with Bustopher." Then the older tom noticed the younger cats demeanor. "Is something wrong, Quaxo?" A miserable nod was the only answer the leopard spotted tom got. "You're running away from him? Aren't you." Another nod. Tugger sighed. "You are awfully shy, aren't you?" This time, the nod was barely noticeable and brought a slight smirk to Tuggers face. "Come on, you can stay here tonight and we can talk to Sorel about moving you when we go to the junkyard tomorrow, that sound good?" Quaxo cautiously raised his head to look at the tom, who really was only his senior by five years, hope shining in his eyes. "You... You'll do that for me?" His voice was hardly a whisper as he spine to the tom. Tugger grinned and nodded. "Come on, Quax, let's go inside. I'm sure Sorel will help you find someplace new once you tell her you can't stand Busty's way of life." He promised as he led the smaller tom into the house and over to his bed, which was a small peke bed with blankets piled into it. The two toms crawled in, both of them glad that it fit them both perfectly without smashing them against each other, and both were asleep in minutes.
Hope that one wasn't too short or too monotonous. Tonight, Tugger is showing his softer side for poor little Quaxo(whom shall now and forever be called Quax by Tuggsie). I might have a new chapter up soon, since I can't seem to stop writing...