Gentle Readers, just a one-day hiatus from the Alissa Milbert series so that I can present this week's Flash Fiction Friday work, which is a sort of Battle Royale. Enjoy!
The Super Adventures of Supercat and Catzilla
“Supercat, what did you do with my pink collar? Have you been trying on my clothes again? God damn you!” Catzilla was getting fed up with her brother and his little fetishes. It was all she could do to prevent him from sticking his head full on into any female humanoid’s shoe that found its way into the sprawling ranch house the butterscotch siblings inhabited with their humanoid slaves. Clearly he had a thing for high heels, and the stinkier the better. But cat-girl collars were another story entirely.
“Uhhhh….pink….what does pink look like again?” Supercat, although a bruiser who commanded an awesome power only by virtue of his enormous size, was far from the sharpest knife in the drawer. Without his brainy feline sister by his side to protect his image, he would have had his ass kicked a hundred times over by any cat in the vicinity.
“I am NOT going over this again, Super-Fat.” Catzilla only resorted to name calling when she was at her wits’ end, an increasingly common state of mind for her. “Have you even tried using those flash-cat-cards I made out last month? I clearly explained the entire f*cking color palate to you and provided example after example. Have you considered maybe spending one evening studying instead of licking your own ass?”
“Sorry,” groveled Supercat. “I guess maybe I was looking at your collars when I got inside the cat-treat cupboard.” Catzilla’s outburst served to jog his memory just slightly. “I remember having one of your collars on, you know, just for a little fun. But then it fell off when I got stuck on one of the branches to that bush outside the window in the humanoids’ office.”
“Okay…so my collar just ‘fell off.’ When YOU fell out of the window because you’re such a fat ass that the screen ripped open under your weight. Where the f*ck is it?”
“Hmmmm….well I did get a little scared for a few minutes after I fell …. so I guess I might have left it on one of the branches when I dove down to hide.” Supercat knew very well by this time where he had abandoned the collar, but he was too afraid of his sister’s wrath to own up to any further details.
“Oh for kitty-sake, Supercat.” Catzilla made her way across the humanoids’ living room to the front door, where she reached up to turn the door handle with the opposable thumbs she had grown through sheer force of will. “Hold on a minute while I go look for it.”
Catzilla had just slinked down the first two steps on her way into the yard when she stopped dead in her paw tracks. It had never been made clear to her just why her back would arch involuntarily when she came into the presence of pure evil. She growled softly to herself as her own tail lifted behind her, morphing into a virtual orange and white striped baseball bat.
As her ears folded back to lie flat on her head, Catzilla hissed “Ok Merlin, I know you’re around here somewhere. Your smell is undeniable. Come out from wherever you’re hiding and explain what you’re doing in my yard before I hunt you down and rip your silver-tabby ass to shreds.”
“Well, well Catzilla, isn’t that just the kind of uncouth talk I’d expect from a vulgar Ginger breed!” Merlin poked his head out from behind the large boulder that flanked the humanoids’ driveway.
Catzilla recoiled in disgust and spat out a double hiss. “I thought I told you to stay the f*ck away from my humanoids. These are OUR slaves and if you dare make a move to disturb anything here I swear I will kill you with my bare paws. Mark my hiss, Merlin. You have been warned for the last time!”
“Is someone having a low blood sugar moment, Zilla?” Her evil neighbor giggled as Catzilla seethed. Merlin had learned early on during their kittenhood at the shelter that nothing could send Catzilla into a conniption more than making light of the formal name bestowed upon Catzilla by her ginger-haired mother. “Need some milk, or a Zilla Wafer maybe? But oh, wait, I should really be talking about your fat ass brother, Supercat. Has he gone on insulin yet?” Merlin threw his head back, laughing in a manner one could easily describe as sinister.
“State your business before I dog-tie you and feed you to that loggerheaded canine next door, Merlin.” Catzilla’s voice grew low and quiet, which when coupled with her prickly fur could only mean she was beyond joking. “What brings you here? And this had better be good or you’re going to enjoy a savage feline ass-whooping in about thirty seconds.”
Catzilla’s fighting skills were well known throughout the cat-borhood, and more than a few errant canines had fallen victim to her vindictive fangs and talons. Most of these dogs had been convinced by Merlin himself to shit in Catzilla’s front yard so that he could sidle up in the bushes with a pinch of catnip and watch the show that would invariably ensue.
Merlin knew he would be no physical match for Catzilla, and although he recognized Supercat’s dimwittedness, he was still put off by the size of Catzilla’s lumbering brother just enough to want to keep a safe distance. Merlin could only retaliate with cat-guile and a villainous mind.
“Easy there, Zilla, just keep your cat-panties on lest you start emanating again. I guarantee you’re going to have a keen interest in what I’m about to tell you.”
“All right then ass-cat-wipe, make it quick. I haven’t got all day.” In truth, Catzilla did have the entire day to spare, but would undergo a voluntary declawing over spending even five minutes with Merlin, given the choice.
“I understand there may be a pink collar missing from your treat cupboard. Is that so, Zilla?” Catzilla’s amber colored eyes widened, her pupils constricting into tiny black dots.
“And what would you know of my pink collar, Merlin? Of what possible interest could my cat-robe have to you? Did you need some props to assist you in your laughable imitation of that Lady Cat-Ga song and dance you were attempting last week?”
“That’s a low blow, Zilla!” For the first time since his entry into his neighbors’ yard, Merlin sounded less than 100% confident. “You know I do that only to secure badly needed sustenance from my humanoid slaves. I’m sure you and Super-Ass have your own bevy of ridiculous antics with which you extract treats from the faggots you and your brother sleep with!”
Catzilla hissed and extended a skillfully sharpened claw. “Mark my growl, Merlin. If you dare make one more remark like that about my slaves I’m going for the jugular. I don’t care if I’m put away for eight of my nine lives. Watching you lose one of yours at my paw will be worth it!”
“Fine Zilla, I’ll just cut to the chase then. I know all about your and Supercat’s little catnip ring. I want a cut of the action or I’m going to the cat-thorities.” Catzilla froze. “That’s right, Zilla. The gig is up with you two. You slink around this entire cat-borhood, touting your precious little ‘Just Say Me-ow’ campaign, fooling all the mama cats into thinking you’re a couple of superheroes, clawing for trust, justice and the Feline Way. When all the while Supercat’s been engaging in his little back-shelter deals, trading his poorly homegrown bud for cans of stolen tuna!”
Catzilla growled again, this time more audibly. “That’s right Zilla, I know all about it. And don’t try to pretend it’s not true. I’ve seen the grow lights you’ve got running in your humanoids’ basement. Those can be detected using the right equipment, and all it will take to get the furball rolling is one carefully placed call to the Catnip Enforcement Agency. And don’t think for a second I won’t do it!”
“Why, you scheming little pile of rodentious excrement,” sputtered Catzilla slowly, speckles of her saliva landing on the stone pavement in front of her.
“Sorry Zilla, you will never outcat me. You may think you’re smart, and that tub of lard you call your brother may have others believing he’s some sort of Tommy Tough-Cat. But you two will never amount to any kind of match for my genius! Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaa!”
Catzilla looked straight ahead with apparent resolve. “Just name your price, Merlin. Before I pin you down and pluck out your whiskers again, one by one, while you howl in pain. And this time I’ll also remove an eye for good measure!”
“Fine,” replied Merlin, wringing his paws in a manner vaguely suggestive of Catriah Heap. “In exchange for holding my sandpaper tongue, I will require exactly half of your tuna booty. No, make it two-thirds. To be delivered bi-weekly in unmarked cans to a spot I will designate under the bushes outside my humanoids’ kitchen window. Agree now while the offer still stands, Zilla, because you know very well I’ve got you both by the balls. Or, I should say, I would if your galoot of a brother still had any!” Merlin turned away from Catzilla, raising his tail high to expose his intact set of testicles. “Read it and weep, Zilla, read it and weep!” The evil feline neighbor slunk away slowly down the sidewalk.
Catzilla lowered her tail and shrunk into a reticent sphinx pose. Just as she was about to close her eyes, Supercat appeared at the front door.
“Um, Catzilla?”
“Not now Fatass, I’m thinking.”
“I just wanted to say I was sorry. Merlin would never have uncovered our situation if he hadn’t come over to the basement window when he saw your pink collar hanging in the bush nearby. I usually have the curtains closed but I had just opened them for five seconds, and there he was, peering in. He must have seen the grow lights.”
“And when exactly were you going to tell me this, you potbellied numbskull?”
“I’m sorry Catzilla, really truly sorry.” Tears welled up until they leaked down the sides of Supercat’s fuzzy orange and white face. “I’m trying to be less stupid, really I am!”
“Oh for cat-crying out loud, Supercat. Just forget about it. Shit happens.” Catzilla, for all her rough talk, could be downright sweet when you caught her at the right moment. In her heart she was a sucker for cheap sentiment, a fact that would horrify her if it ever became known openly.
“But if we have to give up any tuna, it’s coming from your share. And don’t pretend like I don’t know you’ve been hoarding away extra cans in the back of the humanoids’ closet. No wonder you’ve gotten so fat.”
Catzilla rose to her haunches and gazed at her ginormous brother through the screen door. “And as much as I despise that miscreant tabby, Merlin did have a point about the diabetes thing. You’re going on a diet starting right now. Or at least when I decide to get up.” Catzilla yawned and lay back down, stretching her lanky front legs onto the sun-warmed pavement.
“Ok, sis.” Supercat licked his paw before using it to wipe the tears off his whiskers. “All this excitement has made me sleepy – I think I’ll head back to catch forty winks. See you in nineteen hours.” Supercat waddled back toward the humanoids’ bedroom, as Catzilla curled up under the sun. “Just wake me up if Merlin comes back.”
“Ava, you bad little kitty-cat! What are you doing outside again?” Catzilla purred softly as Humanoid Slave Number One scooped her up into his arms. “I swear, you have grown opposable thumbs or something to help you open this door. HONEY! Did you know Ava was outside again? How does she keep getting loose?” The humanoid set her down on the lap of his husband, Number Two. “Grover just went back into the bedroom, right?”
Catzilla just yawned and smiled sweetly in anticipation of the long nap that awaited her in front of the television. It was going to be a good day after all.
