What would happen if our furry friends celebrated Thanksgiving?
It was the middle of November and everyone in the junkyard was looking forward to Thanksgiving. (Some cats more than others;*cough*BustopherJones*cough*) But anyway, it was the day before Thanksgiving and the entire Junkyard was filled with the smell of roasting turkey. (Editor's Note: Cats like turkey just as much as fish, except for Growltiger, but that's another story...)
Back to the Junkyard. Most of the felines were involved in preparations for the holiday. Pouncival and Tumblebrutus were placing large orange and brown inflatable turkeys around the junkyard.
"Aaaagh! Tumble! Help! My turkey got caught on a paint can."
"That's pathetic, Pouncie. You can't even handle your own inflatable turkey."
"Shut up. You try carrrying one of these things."
"You should put that one up on the tire. It kinda looks like Old Deuteronomy."
"Ok. It does! Then we can put one under the car hood, and one up there..."
Unfortunately, several of the turkeys met a terrible fate. Mistoffelees got a little over-excited and accidentally melted one with a lightening bolt. Bustopher Jones sat on another, and it popped. Jemima had forgotten to put her contacts in that morning, and mistook it for a scratching-post.
So they sent Macavity out to buy some more at the local dollar store. But the store was all out of turkeys, and the cashier wouldn't let a rabid-looking ginger cat use a credit card, (though there was a sign on the door that said "Visa, MasterCard and several other credit cards accepted here") so he had to leave without purcha sing anything. Though that might have something to do with the fact that he also coughed up a hairball on the copy of CosmoGirl he was planning to buy. (No, not for hiimself, you freak. For Raoul. Just don't ask.) But he ended up stealing a pineapple.
When Macavity returned, he headed straight for the kitcken to tell Jennyanydots that the mission had been unsuccessful. She was furious and banished him from the junkyard for the rest of the day.
"Macavity! I cannot believe it! Where are my inflatable turkeys?"
"Er...apparently at that store they don't allow cats to purchase items."
"So you didn't get the turkeys?"
"Not really. I did steal this though."
Macavity held up a pineapple. (Cabaret, anyone? Except Macavity's not Jewish..."Yes I am!" Hush dear.)
Jennyanydots was not im pressed and he was expelled from the kitchen in a hail of marshmallow peeps.
"OUT-OF-MY-KITCHEN! MOOO!!!"
"Hey! Owch! Those marshmallow things are lethal, Jenny!"
"The Napoleon of Crime can't even buy me a few plastic turkeys for Thanksgiving? What kind of son is this? MOOOOO!!!"
"But the evil cashiers---"
"I don't want any back-talk. Now up to your room and don't come out till I say so. MOOOO!"
"Mommy, why are you mooing?"
"I'm not your mother, Macavity! MOOOO!!!"
And under another load of pastel-colored marshmallow peeps, Macavity bounced off to the time-out chair. (Which was already occupied by an inflatable turkey. Wouldn'tcha know it.)
Jennyanydots collapsed into the gravy pan with a final triumphant moo. Jellylorum fished her out and gave all the cockroaches sponges to wipe her off with.
"Jenny dear, whatever was that all about?"
"MMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The blast from this strange and sudden noise which one is not accustomed to come from a cat knocked a few of the cockroaches backwards. But having been trained in boy-scout-ness, they soon recovered and set to cleaning off Jennyanydot's whiskers.
"Well, Jenny," said Jellylorum, "The collapse into the gravy pan was unscheduled, but it did do one good thing--you pressed all the lumps out."
And the cats in the kitchen nodded in agreement.
At that moment, Pouncival and Tumblebrutus ran through the door. (Which was closed, by the way, but they opened it so they could run through without getting another concussion--but that's a different story.)
"MY inflatable turkey!" shouted Pouncival.
"Mine!" replied Tumblebrutus.
"It's mine!''
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
"Is not times a hundred!"
"Is too times infinity!"
"No such number as infinity!"
"Who says?"
"Everyone. Give me my turkey!"
"Mine!"
"Mine!"
Old Deuteronomy, who happened to be wearing a pilgrim hat, walked over to the two arguing brothers.
"Now kittens, lets be grateful that we even have something to quarrel about. Lots of cats have to scrounge in dumpsters for their dinner. Count your blessings and be thankful I'm not impersonating Sarah Brightma.... Tumblebrutus and Pouncival, what the (*CENSORED* BEEP BEEP!) are you doing?"
But he was too late. Still arguing, they dashed through the kitchen, knocking a bowl of cranberry sauce over in the process, and out the back door. There was a piercing shriek.
"MY FUR!" Victoria looked down at her cranberry-sauce-covered fur and burst into tears.
Grizabella walked over from her place on the sofa. (The Heavyside Layer, which really does exist--look it up in the dictionary--, had granted her a special pass for a return trip to the earth. And the junkyard. Whoo-hoo.)
"Don't cry, Victoria, I'm sure we'll be able to wash it."
"B...bu...but it's dry-clean only." The white kitten wailed. "And the dry-cleaners aren't open on Thanksgiving."
"Well, then, we'll just have to dye it all cranberry-colored." said Grizabella firmly. Victoria sniffed sulkily.
"But I won't be special and white and pretty anymore."
"Don't worry, honey, you'll still stand out. How many cranberry-colored cats do you know?" She led her off to the harbor and combined Victoria with a large quantity of sea water, grape-flavored jellybeans, garter belts, Kraft (Which is a registered trademark of Kraft Foods, Inc.), blue cheese salad dressing, Billy McCaw, Betty Crocker, Santa Claws, Oprah, Jesus, a Roget's Thesaurus, several penguins who were drinking martinis and tomato juice on the rocks--and a bottle of maroon hair dye in a barnacle-covered-igloo-type-entity.
And I think that's all that needs to be said on that subject for now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At last the entire group of Jellicles was seated at the tire. Having no actual table, they had found, over the years, that the tire, when covered by a linen tablecloth of a hideous orange, pink and lime-green plaid, would work just as well, and far more un-aesthetically-appealingly.
Yeah...
Anyway, this doesn't really matter because at the last minute they decided to serve the Thanksgiving dinner buffet-style. So the horrendous tablecloth had literally gone out the window. Literally. Well, actually not literally as the junkyard doesn't have any windows. But never fear, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer kindly consented to bring it home to Victoria Grove, and toss it out the window. Just so Old Deuteronomy could tell me, and I could write down that they had thrown it out the window. And they did it out of the kindness of their hearts. Bless their little paws...*sniff*.
Mungojerrie: Um...Teaza'...can wei leave? NOW?
Rumpleteazer: Yeah, LET' S GO! Allons-y! Vite! Vite!
Teacher? Teacher? How did Teazer learn how to speak French?
Well, actually, kitten, I, being the ultimate omnipotent evil being of the universe (Dun Dun Dun)....a FANFIC WRITER!....decided to put the words in her mouth as a tribute (hah!) to my 7th grade French teacher, Madame Jill. It means, "Let's go! Hurry! Hurry!".
TO BE CONTINUED
