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“Kerchoo!” Munkustrap’s ear twitched at the sound in the distance, knowing
what it was, he didn’t bother to open his eyes and look. All was quiet again, for a
moment. *SNORK!* Demeter shot bolt upright, ears flattened against her head,
her eyes wild.
“What in Heaviside was that!?” She whispered hoarsely. Munk tried not to
chuckle, he loved Demeter dearly, but she was so edgy and paranoid at strange
noises. He was about to tell her, but something else did.
“Kerchoo!” was heard again, followed by a miserable groan. Demeter looked at
Munk a little sheepish, and lay back down next to him.
“Oh. Poor dear. He’s really caught a nasty cold hasn’t he?”
“Yes. I’m afraid Mistoffelees is going to be miserable for a week or two.”
“Kerchoo! I’b nebber godda ged ady sleeb.” They heard Misto moan.
Mistoffelees sat on the old feather pillow that was his bed, in the wooden crate
that was his home. Victoria, his best friend, liked to call it a nook. It wasn’t a
“nook”, but he humored her, because he liked her so much. A white linen
handkerchief dangled from his paw, as he made yawning movments with his mouth.
His ears had become plugged, to go along with all of his other woes. Popping one
successfully, he stopped, and sighed. Being sick was not one of his favorite
pass-times, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Not even his magic could
wish this cold away. His nose was dripping again, but he didn’t dare blow it because
of the noise, so he just dabbed at it. He whinced in pain, his poor little black nose
was raw from all the wiping and blowing. Giving up on sleep altogether, Misto layed
down and sniffled miserably.
“I had no idea that Mistoffelees snored.” Etcetera whispered as she and Electra
watched the magical tom sleeping on his back. His front and hind legs were
sprawled out in all directions, and he was making the most horrendous noise they
had ever heard. Electra put her paws over her ears, and yanked her friend away
from Misto’s crate.
“Misto’s got a cold, Cettie. And don’t ever say that in front of ‘Mima, or she’ll
have a fit. Poor Misto, he musta been up all night, sneezeing and such. Let’s leave
him alone.” Etecetera looked back at Misto, who had now rolled on to his side, and
felt a little guilty for making fun of him at all. He was really quiet sweet, and
though she adored her “Tuggy”, Misto was much better looking. Too bad he only
had eyes for Vickie.
Victoria sat on the top of Misto’s crate and watched him sleeping. His nose was
so stuffed that he had to breathe with his mouth open, and he was making the most
unattractive noises. With a snort, he lifted his head and looked around. With a
groan, he sat up and shook his head franticly.
“Oh gread! By ears are pugged ub agaid.” He looked up, and spotted Vickie
watching him with a smile. Embarrassed, he looked away, and searched for his
hanky. “Kerchoo!” he sneezed.
“Bless you.” Vickie said, hopping down and sitting next to him. *SNORK!* He
blew his nose.
“Danks, Viggy.” He yawned.
“Didn’t get much sleep, huh?”
“Dope. I can’d bread true by does very well.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do. I mean with your magic and all...”
“I hab a cowld, Viggy. By bagic can’d ged rid of cowlds. All dough I did gib id a
try. I dink I doe whad I cad do aboud id dough, I godda find a humdifiow.”
“A what?”
“A humidifiow. A machind thad turns wadder indo steab, and clears your dose
up.”
“OH! A HUMIDIFIER!”
“Dat’s whad I said.” Misto exclaimed, exasperated. “And I dink I rebember
where I saw ond.”
“Well, good luck. I’m gonna go find ‘Mima. See ya later?”
“Sure thig, Viggy. Bye.” Vickie left and Misto began his quest to find the
humidifier.
Skimbleshanks had just strolled into the junkyard that morning when he heard a
terrible racket in a pile of junk to his left. Curious, he went over to investigate.
“Comb on you idferdal ting! I need you bore dan you tink I do!” Came an odd
exclamation. The voice seemed familiar, but Skimble couldn’t quite place it.
Approching a hole in the junk he saw only a tail, but he knew who it was now. The
tail was all black but the tip, which was white, it was magical Mr. Mistoffelees. And
he was struggling with something at the bottom of the pile.
“Misto, laddie!” Skimble called. “Would ya fancy some help there?”
“Uggle Skibble? Is dat you?”
“Aye, it is, lad. Would ya like some help?” He asked again.
“Sure. Grab by hind legs add pull!” Skimble did as he was asked, and with a bit of
a struggle he succefully yanked his young nephew out of the heap of junk. Misto
had an electrical cord of some kind wedged tightly in his teeth, and upon his
emergence from the junk pile he spat it to the ground. Looking up at Skimble, he
smiled. “Danks, Uggle Skibble. You’re a pal.” The huge pile of junk, began to teeter
precariously over them, Skimble hadn’t noticed, but Misto saw the shadow and
tensed up. He turned to the unsteady configuration and raised a paw. It stopped
swaying, and Misto looked for something to fill the hole, so it wouldn’t topple over
on some other innocent Jellicle who happend to pass by. Spotting some junk that
was just the right size, he used his powers and stuffed the void full. Satisfied that
at least his magic still worked, even if his ears and nose didn’t, he turned back to
Skimbleshanks.
“What in the name of the ‘Everlasting Cat’ were ya doing in there, Misto lad?”
“Gedding dis.” Misto picked up an old beaten up humidifier, and showed it to his
ginger colored uncle. Skimble nodded looking it over.
“You are sick then. I thought you sounded a wee bit odd.”
“Yeah,” Mistoffelees agreed. “And I’b a wee bid tired too. I didn’d ged addy
sleeb lasd nighd.” Skimble nodded.
“Do ya think you can get it to work?”
“I dink so. By bagic works jusd find, even if by ears ad dose don’d.”
“Well, I’ll leave it to you then. Good luck, Misto!” Skimble gave him a jaunty
wave and was off.
“See ya, Uggle Skibble!” Misto waved back. “Kerchoo!”
“Bless, ye!” Skimble called over his shoulder.
“Dank you!” Misto called back. Sighing, he looked down at his treasure he had
dropped when he sneezed. Picking up the cord in his paw, he began the long walk
back to his crate.
***
Bombaluriana and her sister, Demeter, sat around an old cardboard box,
manicuring thier claws, and gossiping. Bomby was agahst at what her sister was
telling her.
“And then to make matters worse, she hissed at him and scratched his nose. Oh
the noises you could hear after that. She came out on top though. Sent him
packing, she did.” Demmy nodded, as Bomby “tsked” and shook her head. Bomby
noticed Mistoffelees out of the corner of her eye, he was walking slowly, and
dragging something behind him.
“Good morning, Misto.” She smiled. He turned and smiled back. The poor tom
looked positively terrible.
“Bording, Bobby.” He said. Demmy leaned over and whispered something in her
ear.
“Misto’s got a nasty cold. Poor thing didn’t get a wink last night.” Bomby nodded.
“That sounds like a terrible cold, you have Misto. You should try and get some
rest.”
“Dat’s were I’b going dow, Bobby.”
“Misto, what have you got there?” Demmy asked, noticing the item he was
dragging behind him.
“It’s a humidifiow. I’m godda see if id works on by dose.” The two queens
nodded. He was a clever cat, and very smart. *SNORK!* Misto blew his nose
loudly, before starting on his way again.
“I’m tired of this old red stuff.” Demmy said picking up the bottle of discarded
fingernail polish that she and Bomby were using. “It would be great if we found
some other colors. Like... I don’t know, pink for a change.” Bomby nodded
agreement.
“Or even purple.”
“My but you live dangerously!” They giggled like kittens.
“Kerchoo! Kerchoo!” Misto sneezed suddenly. The two sisters looked up at him
again.
“Bless you!” They said together.
“Danks.” *SNORK!* And Misto was on his way again. When Demeter and
Bombalurina turned back to their make-shift table, they dropped their jaws in
shock. For sitting in front of them, were two brand new bottles of nail polish. One
pink, one purple.
“Where in Heaviside did these come from?” Bomby asked, picking the purple
bottle up, to make sure it was for real. Demeter did likewise with the pink, and
looked up. She smiled at the small black cat who had just passed by.
“Misto must have done it. Wasn’t that sweet of him?” Bomby nodded with a
smile.
“He’s like that.”
“Yes he is.”
***
Vickie sat on an overturned flower pot frowning. She had found a radio, that
kind of worked, and right in the middle of her favorite song, it had died on her.
Frustrated she punched the power button to “off” and looked up. She was just in
time to see Mistoffelees trudge by, with his humidifier in tow.
“Hey, Misto! Didja find it then?” She called. He looked over at her, with a
start, then smiled shyly.
“Yeah, bud Uggle Skibble had do helb be ged id oud. I’b godda go homb add try
id.” Cocking his head he looked at the old radio. “Whad are you doing?” He asked.
“Oh, this stupid thing. I was listening to my favorite song, and it just up and
died on me!” She crossed her arms across her chest and frownd at the infernal
thing again.
“Oh, I’b sorry. I wish I could helb you oud. Kerchoo!” Vickie snapped her head
back in the direction of her best friend, and frowned.
“You’d better get that thing home and see if you can get it to work for ya. You
don’t sound any better than you did earlier.” He nodded and “Snorked” into his
hanky before he trudged off again. Vickie watched the handsome tom for a couple
of moments more and turned back to her radio. “You stupid piece of junk.” She
growled at it, and punched the power button back to “on”, and nearly fell off the
flower pot. The radio blasted out a tune by Savage Garden loudly. It was now
working better than it ever had. She scratched her head for a moment, then
smiled. “And he said he couldn’t ‘helb’ me.” she giggled.
***
The Rum Tum Tugger put a paw on his growling belly, annoyed. He had missed
breakfast and was starving. Having scoured the garbage bins, and finding little to
eat, he parked himself on a spot of crab grass, and listened as his stomach
complained. Mistoffelees trudged by a moment later, dragging something behind
him. Tugger approched him curiously.
“Hey, kid! Whatcha’ got there?” Misto looked at him with red rimmed blue eyes,
and gave him a tired smile.
“Oh hi, Dugger. Id’s a humidifiow. Id durns wadder indo steab add helbs you
breed drew your node.” Tugger frowned.
“Geez, Misto. You look beat. And ya don’t sound so good either. I hope you’re
going home to get some rest.” The black tom nodded, and stifled a yawn with his
paw. “You’re sick, and I’m starving. Ya know, I wish I had a great big piece of fresh
salmon to eat.”
“Kerchoo!” Misto sneezed.
“Bless you.” Tugger said, patting him gently on the shoulder.
“Danks, Dugger. I’ll see ya lader.”
“Bye, Kid.” Misto trudged off once again. Tugger sat down where he was and
watched him walk away. His stomach growled at him and he looked down to tell it to
shut up, when to his great surprise he found a “gift” at his feet. A large cut of
bright pink salmon sat there, begging to be eaten. Tugger looked at it in shock.
“How in Heaviside... Where did this come from?” He leaned over and gave it a sniff,
it was fresh, as if he had just caught it himself. Then it dawned on him. He looked
up and watched as Mistoffelees trudged on slowly to his crate, and smiled. “Thanks,
kiddo. You’re a great friend.” He said softly, before filling his grumbly stomach.
***
Jennyanydots sighed, and looked at Jellylorum. “That’s the last of the blue
thread, dearie. We can’t finish this needlepoint, and I was so looking forward to
seeing it done.” Jelly sighed as well and nodded. The two of them were seated on
the trunk of the old rusted out car, with their sewing needles, threads and patterns
spread all over it.
“It would have been a lovely sampler if we’d had all of the thread.” Jellylorum
agreed. She looked up and spotted Mistoffelees trudging slowly past them. She
poked Jenny in the arm and pointed to him.
“Good morning, Mistoffelees.” The two of them greeted. Misto looked up with a
start, and gave them a smile. He’d never get home at this rate, but it never hurt to
be polite.
“Goob bording, Aund Jeddy, Jelly.”
“Oh dear!” Jenny cried. “That’s a nasty cold you have, Misto. You should get
some rest.”
“Yes, rest and some chicken broth. That would do you great good.” Jelly
agreed.
“I’b od by way hobe dow. If I cad ged dis humidifiow do work I should be able
do ged sobe sleeb.”
“Excellent. By the way, you haven’t run across any blue thread in your travels
this morning have you, Misto dear?”
“Nobe, sorry. Bud if I do, I’ll led you dnow.”
“Oh, I do wish we had some.” Jelly sighed.
“Kerchoo!”
“Bless you, child!” Jenny and Jelly said together.
“Dank you.” Misto sniffed and pulled a white linen hanky out of nowhere. Jenny
raised her eyebrows at Jelly, and smiled. Misto “snorked” loudly into it, and tossed
it away into thin air. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the two older queens
were watching him. “Excuse be.” he said politely.
“It’s quite alright, dear.” Jenny smiled, and Misto continued his long walk home.
“The poor dear. There must be something we can do for hi...”
“Great Heaviside!” Jelly gasped, and put a paw to her chest.
“What ever is the matter, Jelly dear?” Jenny cried. Jelly pointed to a brand
new, neatly bundled package of blue thread. Wide eyed, Jenny picked it up. “Why,
there’s enough here to finish this needlepoint and two more!” She exclaimed.
“Where ever did it come from, do you suppose?”
“Maybe Mistoffelees gave it to us.” Jelly suggested. They looked after the
tired tom, as he dragged his old humidifier by the power cord, and nodded.
“He’s such a sweet boy.” Jenny cooed after him.
“We should do something for him.” Jelly said, and Jenny nodded.
“Yes in deed, we should.”
***
Jemima, Electra and Etcetra sat on the large tire in the center of the junkyard,
looking at the latest fashions in collars for the season.
“That one’s pretty.” Electra said pointing to a white collar studded with gold
beads.
“Yeah, but white looks so blah on me.” Etcetera frumped. “I’d like it better if it
were red.”
“And I’d much prefer black.” Jemima said, with a nod.
“Or blue.” Electra agreed, when she spotted Mistoffelees walking by.
“Hey, Misto!” She cried waving her paws at him. He looked up and seemed to
slump closer to the gound, but he managed to give her a smile.
“Hi Girls.” he sniffled.
“Whacha’ doing?” Jemima asked.
“I’b odd by way hobe, Jebiba. I’b godda see if I cad ged dis thig do worg.”
“What is it?” Cettie cocked her head to get a better look at what he was pointing
at.
“Id’s a machind thad mages wadder tund do steab, so dat you cad breed though
your node.”
“Huh?” Etcetera scowled.
“It’s a machine that turns water into steam so that you can breath through your
nose.” Jemima translated, Misto smiled at her and nodded.
“How’d you know what he said?” Cettie asked.
“If you listen carefully, you can understand everything he says. Now on your
way, Misto. You look like you need some sleep.” ‘Mima waved her brother on with a
smile.
“I still wish I had that collar in red.” Etcetera sighed.
“Or, blue.” added Electra.
“Or black.” Jemima nodded.
“Kerchoo! Kerchoo! Kerchoo!” Misto sneezed loudly, then “snorked” into his
hanky.
“Bless you!” The three kittens said in unison.
“Danks, girls.” And on with his journey Misto trudged. Jemima looked down at
the catalog to turn the page when she saw three brand new collars red, black and
blue piled on top of it. She squealed with delight, startling her friends. Holding
them up she waved them in front of their faces.
“Lookie! One for each of us! A red one! A blue one! And a black one!” The
three of them admired their new collars joyfully.
“But... where’d they come from?” Etcetera asked. They looked at the retreating
back of the magical black tom and smiled.
“Mistoffelees!” They all nodded.
***
“It was rather large and an odd reddish color. It would be so much easier to
show you what it looked like with the blasted book.” Skimbleshanks scratched his
chin. Munkustrap looked up at the ginger colored tom and smiled.
“Don’t give yourself a fit, Uncle Skimble. I don’t have to know exactly what it
looks like.”
“But it adds more to the story if you could see it!” Skimble insisted. Munk
patted Skimble on the shoulder.
“You don’t happen to have a pad of paper and a pen on you do ya, Uncle Skimble?”
Munk asked folding his arms.
“Who do I look like? Mistoffelees? I canna’ produce things out of thin air, or
I’d have that book to show ye.” Munkustap chuckled, and shook his head.
“Well speak of the little black magician. Here he comes.” Munk nodded and
Skimble looked over his shoulder. The poor cat was dragging his feet, more tired
than before.
“He doesn’t look good.” Skimble frowned.
“No he doesn’t. Misto, ya need some help there?” Munkustrap quickly ran to aid
his young brother. Mistoffelees looked grateful as Munk picked up the humidifier,
and tucked it under his arm. Skimble directed Misto to the long awaited crate that
he called home, and made him sit down on the pillow to rest. Munkustrap placed the
humidifier inside the crate behind the pillow. “You think you can get that thing to
work?” Misto nodded drowsily, and then frowned.
“What’s the matter, Misto laddie?” Skimble asked putting a paw on his shoulder.
“I forgod da wadder.” Misto sniffed, then “snorked” again.
“Don’t you worry, Misto. I’ll get you some.” Munk smiled and ran off. A few
minutes later he returned with an old boiler pan full of water. Misto smiled
gratefully, and carefully poured the water into the machine. The two older toms
watched in fascination, as Misto sat cross legged on the pillow, and chanted some
strange, stuffed up incantation. The humidifier sputtered to life suddenly, and
hummed loudly. It took a few moments, then steam started to rise from it.
Mistoffelees smiled, and picked up the pink towel that he had tucked under the
pillow, he tossed it over the humidifier, smiled a silent thank you to his Jellicle
friends, and ducked his head under the towel. “Nothing like a little ‘Misto Power’,
eh, Uncle Skimble?”
“Aye that, Munk laddie. I still wish that I had that book to show ye.” Munk
nodded.
“That pad of paper and pen would be nice too.”
“Kerchoo! Kerchoo!” Mistoffelees sneezed again.
“Bless you!” Munk and Skimble called into the crate.
“Dank you!” Came Misto’s muffled reply. Skimble took a step forward, and
tumbled ears over tail to the ground. Looking to see what it was he had tripped
over, he cried out in delight.
“Bless the ‘Everlasting Cat’! It’s the book!” Skimble held up the hard bound copy
of *A History In Locomotives*. Munk scratched his head, and noticed a clean pad
of paper and a blue pen sitting at his own feet. Stooping over to pick them up he
wondered aloud.
“Were in Heaviside did these come from?”
“I dunna’ know.” Skimble said pawing though the book. He stopped and looked
over at the black cat in the crate. Misto had abandoned the towel method and the
steam drifted in the crate, as the tired tom slept, finally, peacfully. Munkustrap
followed his gaze, and smiled. They looked at each other and nodded.
“’Dank’ you, Misto.” They said quietly, and left the magic cat to rest.
The End