One Dobby Cat, Two Browncoats, And An On-Ramp To Faerie

“Look at all the dust...whoa.”  Ray says looking up.

Tinkletoes, Monitor Man, and Carp all look up.

Tinkletoes looks at Carp,  “Would you take care of that?”  Tinkletoes and Monitor Man head for the bonus room leaving Carp in the living room with Ray.

Carp nods and looks at Ray.  “How many cats do you find hanging off of ceiling fans?”  Carp asks.

“None, so far.”  Ray answers.  “Those kittens are really active.   They had a beach party at the litter box last week.”

“We need to find the cats!”  Tinkletoes calls out.

Carp looks at Ray less than pleased with the situation.  “No more ceiling fan.”

“No more ceiling fan.  Don't worry.   I've got this man.  I'm on it because I'm stealth.  Like a cat.  I think...like a cat.”

Carp turns, heading for High Command and yet to be discovered kitten hidey holes.

Getting down on all fours Ray starts sniffing at the carpet.  He looks at everything he encounters closely.   He finds a ball.  Reaching out, Ray gives the ball a quick tap making it roll a short distance, then he gives it another tap making it roll further.  Ray turns as he watches the ball roll, he studies every move, wiggles his butt and chases it only to be stopped when the door of the refrigerator meets with his head.

“Oh my god...where is it?”  House's voice can be heard echoing throughout the living room.

“There it is!  Dust on my fan blades!  Hairy dust, faerie dust and odd dragon scales.   Eeeuuu!”

“It's okay sweetie.”  Mural Man says, soothing her.  “It's just a little dust.”

“Just a little dust?”  House exclaims.   “There is no such thing as a little dust!” Her voice vibrates everything in the room making chunks of dust fall from the fan blade and onto the floor.  “Eeeeuu!”

Furnatche's head butts up against Ray's as he peers under the refrigerator.   The “super smeller,” an extension of the baby dragon's nose has been triggered, its tendrils twirling clockwise and counterclockwise sniffing for toy balls and lost kittens.

“Duuude.”  Ray says looking at Furnatche, the baby dragon in turn raises his head to look at Ray.   “Your nose is too close.  It tickles man.”  Furnatche's tendrils retract, retreating into the dragon's nasal cavity.  The baby dragon reaches out with his great tongue and licks Ray from jaw to brow line.  “Thanks man, I love you too.”  Ray says removing the glittery slobber that glows with enchantment from his face.  He wipes it onto his pant leg leaving smear marks which pulsate with a glittering light.

“Dobby?   Dobby!”

Dobby hears Writer's Lady's calls from the open window.  He stands by it, watching rain drip off of palm fronds, snakes slither along thick branches and monkeys pass through the rain forest in front of him.   The ginger tabby is wearing fatigues including a belt equipped with knives, smoke bombs, grenades, and heavy boots.   “So you think you have what it takes to protect the President.”  He says, alternately flexing his front paws, nails extending and retracting.

Spots Wash looks around the hut, then at the activity outside.  He tenses briefly at the sound of an elephant trumpeting in the distance.

Smudge Mal stands to his full height, looks squarely at Dobby and says, “We've got what it takes.  We may be kittens.   We are smaller, I'll give you that.   We're young, we move fast, and our claws are like razors.”   Returning to all fours he makes his way over to a Shoji screen in a far corner of the hut.  He stands up and slices through the paper screen with little effort.

“A claw can't stop a bullet.”  Dobby says.

“Not much can.”  Smudge Mal counters.

“I can.”  Dobby says.

“You know a faerie.”

“I can because I have what it takes.  If Tinkletoes is right about you...you can too.”

Spots Wash comes closer, “What do you mean?” He asks.

Smudge Mal says, “Magic.  He means getting on the good side of the faerie.”

Spots Wash shakes his head, “Faeries are mean.  Diomedes says so.”

“He said that faeries are tricksters with a mean sense of humor.”  Smudge Mal corrects.  “It's something we don't need.”

“To stop bullets.”  Dobby reminds Smudge Mal.

“We're Browncoats.   Tinkletoes is a Browncoat.   Browncoats look out for other Browncoats.   We will protect the President.”  Smudge Mal says.

“We're smart.”   Spots Wash says.   “And we've got...we've got...”  Spots Wash looks at his brother and whispers, “What's that other thing we've got?”

“Grit.”   Smudge Mal answers.

“Grit.”  Spots Wash says.  “We are the grittiest of the Gritty Browncoat Kitties. Tell that to your faerie.”

Dobby grins.  “Let's get this party started then...Browncoats.  Welcome to Makinuaman.”  Dobby gestures to the rain forest outside.   “This is middle ground.  An on-ramp between Earth and Faerie.  And your training ground.”

Tinkletoes and Monitor Man make a second pass through the bonus room looking in every crevice, tiny opening, and darkened corner to no avail.   The kittens have disappeared along with Dobby.

“It's strange isn't it.”   Monitor Man says.   “How the sounds the cats make becomes a part of the heartbeat of a home.   Like the refrigerator running or water moving around in the dishwasher does.   Something is wrong if the sound is no longer there.”

“It's damn near deafening.”  Tinkletoes agrees without looking at Monitor Man.

“Maybe we should...”

Silence.

“Should what?”  Tinkletoes asks.   He looks around.  No Monitor Man.

“I think I see a ball.”  Ray says looking under the refrigerator.   “Would you like to play with the ball?”

Furnatche does not respond.  Ray hears a strange noise coming from his left side. Furnatche has wandered into the doorway and is facing the bonus room. Crying.

“Furnatche?  Lil' dude?  What's wrong?”

“Noooo!”  House screams.

“Sweetie really...it's just a little dust.”  Mural Man says.

“My bridge has been breached!”

“look in High Com...mand?”  Monitor Man finishes his sentence in a clearing on the edge of what looks like a jungle.  He wipes rain from his face hoping it has disappeared when he looks at his surroundings again.   It hasn't.  “Okay.  What just happened?”

“Monitor Man!”

He hears a voice calling to him.

“Monitor Man!!”

Monitor Man's eyes search for the source of that voice.  Writer Lady is standing under a tree several feet away.   She says something.  He can't hear.  The rain, calls of various animals and birds are drowning her out.  She's gesturing to her chest with her hand.  Monitor Man looks down to see a target on his shirt.

“Come on!!”   She calls.  He runs towards Writer Lady, into the jungle, and hopefully, some answers.

“What did you do this time?”  She asks.

“What?”

“You have a target on your chest and your butt says...”  She turns Monitor Man around to read the back of his pants a second time,“your butt says 'Your Ass Is Mine.'  What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

A lion's roar can be heard, then drums.

“Someone knows that we're out here.”  Writer Lady says.

“We should keep moving.”  Monitor Man responds.

They start walking.   Fast.

“While we're walking, you need to think and try to remember what you did.”