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| A Tale of Two (or more) Kitties; open to all felines | |
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| Topic Started: 5 Apr 2007, 04:49 PM (250 Views) | |
| Brendan | 5 Apr 2007, 04:49 PM Post #1 |
A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
  ![]](http://209.85.48.14/static/1/pip_r.png)
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Originally posted by Jack. ((COTBP reprised... sort of. It's open to change, though.)) Kitty Jack was not a happy kitty. You wouldn't be able to tell this by his lack of smile, because real kitties never smile. There was a certain angle to his whiskers, however, and a determination about the way he used his little hook to scratch behind his ear that revealed there was more on his mind than met the almond-shaped eye. Despite the scratching, it wasn't fleas that were the issue (which wasn't to say that Jack didn't have any, but he was used to fleas, and he didn't mind scratching himself). And no, it was no run-of-the-mill hairball problem, either. This concerned a collection of fur of an entirely different nature: the Black Ball of Yarn. The Ball of Yarn was Kitty Jack's pretty little ship with black sails - or it had been, some three years ago. But evil Barbossa had stolen it from Jack, and Jack had been feeling fixed ever since. There was nothing quite like a ship, after all; the chance to go everywhere to leave your scent and take whatever cream you encountered, while still enjoying the comfort of having a litterbox of your own. Kitty Jack wanted nothing more than to get the Ball of Yarn back, but, through a combination of unfortunate events, he had now ended up in Port Feline. It wasn't the best place to be for a pirate kitty, but Jack felt that he was safe enough. He could go around town without attracting any unwanted attention. He was the infamous Kitty Jack Sparrow! |
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| Brendan | 5 Apr 2007, 04:49 PM Post #2 |
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A Legend. In regimentals. Pwn.
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Originally posted by Brendan. The stout stick gripped in his paw felt heavier than normal and it was difficult to keep from yawning. He blinked wearily, gazing about him at all the bustle of the docks. It was busy as ever. Brendan lifted a paw and scratched at his ear, feeling annoyed that he was forced to stand on this dock instead of being allowed to enjoy an afternoon nap in his favourite box back at the fort. He leaned on the heavy stick, wishing that the ridiculous bright red jacket he had to wear wasn't so heavy. And, he realised after a yawn sneaked past him, he had forgotten to trim his whiskers that morning. How undignified. A cat on the next dock over let out a yowl, but there didn't seem to be anything of great interest taking place there, just a dispute over some tuna. His heavy red jacket helped absorb the warm sunshine and his eyelids began to droop. A little catnap couldn't hurt. |
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4:03 AM Jul 30
