Jellicle Puppies
By Matty
Matropolis was so glad that her two Pollicle siblings had come to join the tribe. You see, Matropolis looks like a cat, and indeed acts like a cat. But she thinks, feels and does tend to act like a dog sometimes. This all happens because she got the only recessive gene in her family of Pollicle. When she was born, she had five other siblings. They were Clifford, who looked indeed like a Pollicle, but often thought and acted like a Jellicle. There was Annie, then there was two others, one a cat, one a dog, ran away at birth. The last was one we all know very well. But we don’t know who. The thing is, we’re all sure it’s her twin, because most of her family was bron in twins. Misto and Quaxo, Alonzo and ??????, Sillabub and Jemima, all born in different litters. However, Alonzo was looking for another missing brother in America, Boxer.
So anyway, Matty showed her sister Clifford to her friends. Even though Chewie was all dog, he joined the tribe due to… Clifford needed him. He wasn’t related to her, he had been adopted. He was a magician. He did several tricks. Annie had always been a Pollicle and always will be. Clifford and Matty had been known as Pollicle Troublemakers. Pouncival was looking them over, taking notes.
“We’ll check the Tom first,” he said.
“Dogs aren’t Toms,” Etcetra noted.
“He is now. Strength?” he asked Tumble. Chewie lifte a big log with his mouth.
“Affirmitave 7,” Tumble replied.
“Intelligence?” Tumble looked at his face.
“Probably.”
“You dipshit. You can’t be probably intelligence,” Pouncival said.
“He’s smart, trust me,” Clifford said.
“Okay. Let’s check out the queen.”
“I thought girls were…you know,” Etcetra questioned.
“Not anymore! Let’s check her out now.”
“You would,” Travie muttered. Pounce backhanded her. Travie punched him in the stomach.
“Slipperiness?” Pouncival asked rubbing his stomach.
“I can slip my nose in mousetraps without getting caught or making snap.”
“Affirmitive big time!” Tumble said astonished.
“Sexiness?”
“Pouncival!” Matty yelled.
“She looks pretty hot to me,” Jonathan noted.
“She’s a canine!” Jemima yelled.
“So,” Travie said. “Jon likes everyone.”
“Wait a second. Who would Clifford and Chewie go with to parties?” Etcetra asked another question.
“I dunno. We’ll talk about it later,” Pouncival answered. “Okay, we gotta test ‘em. We gotta let ‘em prove their real troublemakers.
“Come on. Anyone related to Matty is a troublemaker,” James winked at her romantically.
“Butthole,” Matty whispered.
“Shut-up you wipes. We still gotta test him. It’s the rules. Jer and Teaze said so.”
“So how do we test them?” Etcetra queried once again.
“For Munkustrap’s sake Etcetra, shut the flip up,” Matty said grumpily.
“Really. I’ll tell you. Now, Clifford has to run Bustopher Jones’s unders up the big pole by Jennyanydots car trunk. Chewie has to tar and feather Jellylorum.” Chewie smiled and winked at Matty and Clifford.
“Where’ll he get the tar?” Etcetra asked. No one answered.
That night, Clifford snuck out of where her new home was: Alonzo’s Shack. Although at the time, everyone was home but Alonzo. She tiptoed to where they said the fat Jones would lie. Indeed, he was huge, Clifford had to agree. She found his unders in a small drawer. “I never knew cats wore clothes,” she mumbled. She grabbed the unders and ran over the pole. It was there. She easily found the rope to tie them to. She pulled the other side of the rope. The unders went up. He job was done.
Chewie had a much easier task. He had an advantage to tarring and feathering. Chewie’s greatest trick was turning into a ball of tar. He did just that and slid across London until he found Sam’s Butchery. He found some feathers, carried them home in a bag. He feathered a cat. Just not the right one. It wasn’t Jellylorum. IT was Pouncival!
“You moron!” He hissed. “I’m tarred!” Matty and Travie were in hysterics.
“He did it!” Travie yelled.
“And worse, thought YOU were Jellylorum!” Matty laughed. Chewie grinned ear to ear. “He’s slick.”
“How to figure? He’s dumber than a box of Jonathans!”
“That’s not funny!” Jonathan hissed.
“You’re the dumb ones!” Travie insisted, trying not to laugh at Pounciva’s hysterical face. “You never knew how slick he is!” Chewie bowed. Then he waved one paw in front of him and ducked his head. He curled his tail and flattened his ears. Then he held still and melted down into a black nothingness. Since Chewie was black, there wasn’t much difference. Pouncival brightened up.
“He’s perfect! He passed!” every kitten clapped. “Clifford?”
“I did it!” she yelled. “I ran up Mr. Fat’s underwear on the pole!”
“Great!” Pouncival exclaimed. “Except I don’t see it.”
“It’s right—Hey! It’s gone!”
“What d’ya mean?”
“There not up there anymore! I got ‘em up there…” Bustopher came stomping over.
“Excuse me young chaps…”
“Do I look like a ‘chap’? Well? I’m not a chap! I’m your worst nightmare!” Matty hissed. “Now, is there a problem?”
“Yes indeed, that young pup ran my under above that there pole.”
“Me?” Clifford pointed to herself “That’s very rude!”
“Excuse me?” Bussy said confused.
“It’s extrememly imprudent for one to castigate another without proof,” Cliffy said.
“I was ill-mannered? I’m dearly sorry. Oh, this had never happened before. I’ll be gone know, and sulk shamely.”
“You should. For shame!” Clifford called after the waddling Bustopher. The kittens cheered.
“Congratulations,” Pouncival declared. “I proclaim Chewie and Clifford our first Jellicle Dogs, and one of the best troublemakers!” they cheered again. Etcetra felt the need to ask another question.
“Do you curse?”
