Cats Undercover
Page 23
‘Tuck,’ she said. ‘Tuck, did I miss a meeting?’
For there, outside the window, was the explanation of the second throbbing noise. It was a huge helicopter with its side door open to reveal a great big television camera. Beside the camera in noise-cancelling headphones and holding a huge microphone between her paws was a curvaceous cat with a multi-coloured coat of unusually long hair. She was elbowing a smaller, similar-looking cat out of the way.
‘My name is Minnie Themoocha Ripperton-Fandango,’ she shouted into the microphone. ‘Welcome to my special—’
But Minnie said no more, for she suddenly realised the camera wasn’t even pointing at her. Instead, the cameraman was filming the owners of the country’s largest pet food company holding two fully-grown, and very much alive, cats over the mouth of a throbbing skinning machine.
Dear reader, I must confess that at this point in my interviews with the cats involved, it became very difficult to get reliable information about the course of events which followed. Ginger and Tuck had their eyes closed half the time, Minnie was unavailable for comment, and Dora refused to speak without an upfront fee.
Fortunately, I have managed to retrieve the original television footage. It, at least, clearly records the reaction of the Pongs to this surprising development. The phrase ‘stunned mullets’ comes to mind, were it not for the fact that neither of the Pongs wore a mullet nor was a mullet. Not to mention the fact that I’ve no idea what a mullet is, stunned or otherwise. Let’s say they were frozen by shock. Mortified. Petrified. Anything which involved them not moving until slowly, very slowly, Mrs Pong—who was holding Ginger—began to loosen her grip.
It seems this was the point at which everyone in the helicopter, other than the cameraman, realised what was happening in the stables/ skinning room (and never has a slash (/) been more appropriate). The footage shows Dora, in the foreground, grabbing the microphone from Minnie so that the viewers at home could hear her shout down to the Pongs: ‘No! You no do it! The whole country watches!’
Well, possessive pussies, Minnie clearly is not a cat who, even during a potentially gruesome catastrophe, likes to have a microphone taken from her. She grabbed it back and shouted down to the Pongs, ‘I demand you put my friends down right now!’
Given all the noise that was going on, what with the helicopter whirring and the skinning machine throbbing, you have to be a bit of a lip-reader when watching the footage to see what happened next. Fortunately, modern technology (i.e. a book) allows us to zoom in, watch in detail, and do a bit of lip-reading.
Firstly, we can see Ginger give Minnie one of her most gingery looks before rolling her eyes, sighing slowly and saying something I really can’t repeat here, but which did include the words: ‘stupid thing to say.’
Then we can see Mrs Pong come to life, stare at the camera so hard I’m surprised it didn’t break, and mouth the words: ‘Watch me.’ Mrs Pong then turns to her husband to say something which cannot be made out, but to which he clearly responds: ‘OK, Frances, let’s do it.’
Slowly, Mrs Pong loosened her grip on Ginger, while Mr Pong loosened his grip on Tuck. Once more the two cats squeezed their eyes shut and said goodbye to each other.
‘The nation is watching a tragedy unfold before its very eyes on my own special show,’ they heard Minnie say. ‘Keep watching after the commercial break.’
But, suddenly, there was another change in noise. No, not another helicopter. What do you think this is, an air show? No, the noise was less now, not more.
‘Tuck,’ said Ginger. ‘Tuck, look! Open your eyes and look. Who on earth is that?’
But Tuck was too scared to open his eyes. All he noticed was that he could no longer hear the throbbing of the skinning machine.
‘Nooo!!’ shouted Mr Pong. ‘Nooo!! Foiled again! There are supposed to be less cats, not more. How did that one become alive again?’
Now Tuck opened his eyes. It couldn’t be? Could it? He turned his head in all directions until at last he saw what had stopped the skinning machine. It was a very tired and very droopy Bunk, who was holding a power cable between his teeth, its plug drooping at one end where he’d pulled it from the wall.
‘Bunk!’ shouted Tuck. Then he shouted ‘Aaagh!’ as Mr Pong at last dropped him into the mouth of the now silent and harmless machine. Then ‘Ooffeee!’ as Mrs Pong dropped Ginger in on top of him.
‘Bunk, Bunk, you’re alive!’ Tuck yelled out of the funnel. ‘I’m so sorry I left you. I’m such a clot, leaving you to rot outside in the snow. Will you ever forgive me?’
Bunk’s surprisingly small head with its surprisingly huge yellow eyes appeared over the edge of the funnel and he looked down at Tuck.
‘Me to rot?’ he said into the pot. ‘You a clot? No, you’re not! Have you lost the plot or what? It was the perfect spot during the perfect slot, bang on the dot; I mean it a lot. This bot got hot in a jot, like a tot in a cot in a sunny yacht. I recharged in the sunlight because of you, Tuck. You saved the day. Tuck, you’re a hero!’
‘Bunk’s alive!’ Tuck said to Ginger through tears of joy. ‘And you’re back. And Minnie’s here … and … and …’
‘Tuck,’ said Ginger. ‘How about we get out of this deadly machine before you tell me any more about how happy you are to be alive?’
And for once—enjoy this, folks, because it will never happen again—Tuck saw the sense in action now and words later.
WHAT A SET UP FOR A SEQUEL!
Well, what more is there to say? Oh, an ending, I suppose. Man, you have to get every little ounce out of me, don’t you? OK, here goes. William and Frances Pong were arrested that very night. During their trial, the judge, Justice Justin Justus, was outraged at Mrs Pong’s outright denial of any wrongdoing. Even when confronted with the video evidence, which of course the entire nation had also seen, she tried to pretend it was someone else who looked a bit like her. Mr Pong sat and sobbed throughout the entire event and kept saying how sorry he was. Which explains, perhaps, why Mrs Pong got sent down for a far longer stretch than Mr Pong did. Or perhaps not.
You see, Mrs Pong was so busy denying she’d ever done anything wrong that she refused all compromises, concessions or courses of correction. Mr Pong, on the other hand, was not so arrogant. He agreed to partake in a rehabilitation program known as The Feline’s Mutual, a course specifically designed for ‘humans who haven’t learned to love cats yet’. Can you imagine how disgusted he was when he first arrived at the Cat Correction Centre? Really, can’t you? Well, do try a bit harder. He was tremblblblblblblbling with disgust.
But after a week or so, William Pong realised the reason cats always scratched and bit him was only because he didn’t like them. Through exposure therapy and kitten counselling, he soon learned that if he relaxed around cats and stopped trying to kill them, they actually were quite furry and purry and not in a hurry to hurt him. He’s still in prison—you don’t get out that easily—but I’ve heard he is now a big cat fan and actually planning on opening a cat sanctuary when he finally gets out.
Nobody knows what Frances Pong wants to do, or, indeed, if she’ll ever get out of prison. She is, you see, stuck in a solitary confinement cell until she learns not to be such a big fat liar. Or a short fat liar in her case.
As for the cats, well, I’m sure you can guess the end. Can’t you? Oh, come on, I’m getting really tired of writing this book. Next you’ll be wanting me to read it to you. Or maybe a video game, how about that?
Endsontheway, this is what happened to the cats: Minnie and Dora’s career sky-rocketed after their explosive exposure of the Pongs. Everyone wanted to know who this glamorous duo was and Micky Manx’s publicity department wasted no time in telling them. Soon Minnie and Dora were receiving offers from around the world to perform their songs, dance their dances and even to be judges on The F Factor. Naturally, neither of them let this go to their heads because, of course, in their heads they already were huge, huge stars and deserved to be treated like it ever
y second of the day. Naturally, they continued to fight about who precisely was the bigger star, who had the most talent and who got to wear which outfits. But, underneath all the cattiness, they knew they needed each other. So they stuck together through all their dysfunctional co-dependent back-biting—because that’s show business, folks.
As for Bunk, he quit the CIA. He might have been a catbot, but catbots need love too. And they don’t need sending back into dangerous situations where they are considered expendable. So Bunk scratched off the homing beacon on his collar and made sure he lay in the sun for as long as possible each day. Just like a normal cat, really. And where did he lie in the sun? Why, on the farm, of course! Because that’s where his best friend was.
At first, Tuck thought the Pongs really had ruined the farm and that he didn’t want to live there anymore. But then Ginger pointed out that they had also left behind lots of new walls and roofs, which would come in very handy during the winter. Tuck still wasn’t convinced until a few days later. He was showing Bunk around the parts of the farm Bunk hadn’t seen before. Inside the farmhouse, beside the stables, up in the attic. It was behind the newly upright barn that they made their discovery. The huge high-sided lorry which had once held the cats in captivity was still there. But instead of holding cages, it was now packed to the brim with Pongs Pet Food.
‘It’s probably poisonous,’ said Tuck.
‘No,’ said Bunk. ‘Remember, they didn’t think they’d discovered the perfect poison until yesterday. This must have been for Mrs Pong to bring her food from. Besides, I’ve used my toxicity sensor and I can confirm the food in these tins is not only tasty, but also perfectly healthy. I calculate there is enough food here to feed you and Ginger for … twenty-seven years, five months and four days.’
‘But what about you?’ said Tuck. ‘Don’t you need to pretend to eat chocolate?’
Bunk looked at him and gave a strange underbite smile.
‘As long as I stay here,’ he said, ‘I never have to pretend anything ever again.’
Ginger wanted to stay too. She decided that she’d had enough adventures to last her a lifetime. And, just as importantly, she’d also paid her dues. Before leaving the city, she’d left a note for Sue Narmi and the Fur Girls telling them they could keep half the food they’d find waiting for them in the sewers beneath the wasteland. Now, with Bunk and Tuck’s discovery, she was able to send them a message on Furbook telling them they could keep it all (minus ten per cent for Bumfluff and Fleabomb). Which meant no one went hungry that winter.
So Tuck and Ginger and Bunk stayed at Dingleberry Bottom, welcoming in any cat who might be passing by and had any news to share. When tour schedules permitted, they welcomed Dora and Minnie too—along with their entourages of seven limousines, twelve hat-boxes, three wardrobe assistants and five fluffers each. And even Bumfluff McGuff and Fleabomb McGee visited sometimes, sharing their stories of rat life and how much better it was now that King Rat was no more.
And they all lived happily ever after. Until, one day, two very evil witches—whom the cats had battled in an earlier book—came back to life with a kerbang!
But that, as they say, is another story.
THE END
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Tuck & Ginger's hilarious first adventure.
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Scratch ya laterz…! xx
In loving memory of Major
Table of Contents
WARNING!
WHAT A START!
WHAT A FIGHT!
WHATEVER NEXT?
WHAT A PALAVER!
WHAT A NASTY NIGHT!
WHAT A DISCOVERY!
WHAT A THING TO SAY!
NOT MUCH TO CROW ABOUT!
WHAT A BORE!
WHAT A DITCH!
WHAT A PONG!
WHAT A RAT!
WHAT A STATE!
WHAT A NIGHTMARE!
WHAT A DISASTER!
WHAT THE WHAT?
WHAT A PUNK!
WHAT AN OFFER!
WHAT A DILEMMA!
WHAT A SPLASH!
WHAT A SECRET!
WHAT A GANG!
WHAT A SHOW!
WHAT A FRIGHT!
WHAT AN EFFORT!
WHAT A HOOT!
WHAT A CUTIE!
WHAT A RISK!
WHAT A MAGICAL NIGHT!
WHAT A PROPOSAL!
WHAT A REVELATION!
WHAT A RORT!*
WHAT TO DO?
WHAT A DEN!
WHAT A FLIGHT!
WHAT A DRENCHING!
WHAT A HOLE!
WHAT A DIFFERENCE!
WHAT AN ARRIVAL!
WHAT A SITUATION!
WHAT A FADE OUT!
WHAT A CHEEK!
WHAT A NEGOTIATION!
WHAT A LET DOWN!
WHAT A TURN UP FOR THE BOOKS!
WHAT A PLIGHT!
WHAT A SONG AND A DANCE!
WHAT A LAUNCH!
WHAT AN EXIT!
WHAT A HERO!
WHAT AN ENTRANCE!
WHAT A WAKE-UP CALL!
WHAT A CURIOUS PHENOMENON!
WHAT A GRUESOME WAY TO GO!
WHAT A TO-DO AND A HOO-HA!
WHAT A SET UP FOR A SEQUEL!
Copyright © 2017 Ged Gillmore
First published by deGrevilo Publishing in 2017
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.gedgillmore.com
www.degrevilo.com
Cataloguing-in-Publication details are available from the National Library of Australia www.trove.nla.gov.au
ISBN: 978-0-9941786-3-3
Cover illustration: Felipe Van Rompaey.
Beta Reading: Helen Masterton
Copy-editing & Proofreading: Bernadette Kearns
Formatting: Oliver Sands
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.Any resemblance to actual persons, cats, rats or Pongs, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.