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“Mistoffelees is stuck on the ceiling.”
“He’s what now?”
“He’s stuck on the ceiling.”
Munkustrap pinched his nose between two neatly sharpened claws. “How did that happen?”
The Rum Tum Tugger seemed to melt off the ledge he had been balancing on, coming to a sprawling stop in front of Munkustrap’s black hind legs.
“Well, you know him better than me. He dissolved himself into a little glitter cloud and floated upwards and then turned back into a cat, and now he won’t let go of the ceiling. Go and do something.”
“Do something? What exactly are you expecting of me? Should I turn into a glitter cloud and keep him company?”
With an exaggerated huff, the tomcat on the floor rolled from his side onto his back, grooming his mane as if it was an absent-minded habit. It definitely wasn’t – Munkustrap knew him too well.
“No, but you’re better at convincing him to let go and let nature run its course than me. He might stay up there all day, and then where would we be?”
Munkustrap frowned. “Oh? You’re usually very convincing. What seems to be the issue?”
The Rum Tum Tugger made a very seldom heard noise; he tittered. “I would be,” he agreed with a wistful grin, “if I could stop laughing my mane off every time I look at him up there.”
“That’s indeed not very helpful,” Munkustrap grumbled, fighting down a grin and a titter of his own at Tugger’s mirthful expression.
If Tugger was in such a good mood, the stakes did not seem to be very high. Still, Munkustrap hurried his steps as he approached the den that Mistoffelees had recently chosen as his ‘bureau of magic’, laboratory and experimentation stage. It had once been a side room of an old motel at the side of the junkyard that had been abandoned and half-demolished years ago. Being built by humans instead of cats, the ceiling was far higher than what Mistoffelees was used to, so it made sense that he was stuck.
Nonetheless, it was very funny.
When he entered through a gap in the massive wooden door, there was no panic or overwhelming fear hanging in the air as he had feared. Munkustrap silently thanked the Everlasting Cat and turned his head up, searching for his dearest friend inbetween rusty pipes and velvet fabric scraps that Mistoffelees had hung up and strewn about as decoration.
When the twitching white tip of a tail came into view, followed by a wave of annoyance and resigned frustration that was almost tangible, Munkustrap couldn’t suppress a delighted mew. Peals of laughter quickly followed.
The tomcat in distress was suspended upside down on the ceiling, all four paws gripping the plaster with all his might. He had turned his head in Munkustrap’s direction at the new noise, and was now putting on a quite gloomy face, tail twitching back and forth aggressively. Since it was dangling down just like the rest of him, said tail looked a lot like a white and black propeller.
“Hello, Mistoffelees,” Munkustrap said to him as soon as he could breathe again, flanks still heaving with suppressed laughter.
“Munkustrap,” Mistoffelees greeted, “I had hoped Tugger would bring someone who wouldn’t laugh about my misfortune.”
“His selection wasn’t big,” Munkustrap giggled, looking around for a pillow or anything that might help him convince his friend to let go. “And I think I was the best choice here, wouldn’t you think?”
“That’s true,” Mistoffelees sighed. His tail had stopped twitching and now dangled limply. “You at least wouldn’t dare to tell anyone.”
“Never,” Munkustrap promised. No pillow to be found. Bugger.
“Because-”
“Think of all the blackmail I have provided you with these past years…”
Mistoffelees’ eyes widened with every word. He shook his head and guffawed.
“No, because you’re my best friend!”
Munkustrap’s tail lifted itself into a perpendicular position without his control. He trilled. “Oh yes, that.” He trilled again and turned his head upwards to give Mistoffelees a smile.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“I’ll catch you.”
“Promise?”
Mistoffelees flexed one front paw, his tail angling to balance out the movement.
Munkustrap stood on his hind legs and reached upwards. He was long for a cat, but not nearly long enough to reach a man-made ceiling.
“I promise.”
With no further ado, Mistoffelees sheathed his claws and proceeded to plummet to the ground. His righting reflex made him turn in the air, hitting Munkustrap’s outstretched arms in just the perfect position to be caught safely.
Munkustrap barely budged a centimeter from the impact. He was acclimated to being misused as landing pad or spring board by adventurous kittens; there weren’t many things that could bowl him over anymore.
“Ugh. Thank you,” Mistoffelees sighed as Munkustrap set him on his own paws before comfortably loafing next to the frazzled black tomcat.
“Don’t mention it,” Munkustrap answered easily, curling his tail around himself as Mistoffelees began to groom his still poofed-up coat and trembling forepaws in slight embarrassment.
“Believe me, I won’t mention it ever. To anyone.”
Munkustrap’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Neither will I.”
“...Thank you.”
His only answer was a trill and a helping rough tongue smoothing out the tufts and wrinkles in his fur.
“Was your experiment successful, at least?”
Mistoffelees shook out both of his hind legs and stretched luxuriously.
“Oh yes, very much so! I’m slowly getting the hang of letting go of my physical form without automatically teleporting. It’s hard work, and I’m afraid I will probably have many more… uh, mishaps, but as soon as I figure out how to stay at one place-” he suppressed a giggle, “-you won’t have to deal with it raining cats and dogs, if you excuse the pun.”
Munkustrap snorted. “And to think it was raining inside, too. We live in strange times indeed.”
“Courage, my friend!”, Mistoffelees crowed, shaking a paw as if preparing to ride into battle. “The times would be a thousand times stranger without you catching cat-shaped shooting stars. Don’t give up on me now.”
“Never,” Munkustrap promised, copying Mistoffelees stretch and bumping his head against his friend’s flank. “Just imagine what certain artful cats would get up to in my absence.”
“Not helping me down from the ceiling, that’s for sure,” Mistoffelees grumbled, half-heartedly batting at Munkustrap’s tail.
Munkustrap pulled a face. He did that very often, and he didn’t seem to notice. Mistoffelees had made sure that nobody would ever tell him.
“He definitely could have found a better solution if he had tried… Then again, perhaps it was better this way. You do have to demonstrate your newest trick for me, after all.”
Mistoffelees lifted his eyebrows.
“If you are up for it, of course,” Munkustrap added hastily. “Don’t overdo it. Who knows what else could happen.”
“Let me find a decent scratch post and I’m as good as new.”
With a last flex of his paws and a broad rub against Munkustrap’s forehead, Mistoffelees jumped up and left the room through the splintered door. Munkustrap followed at a leisurely pace, checking and touching up scent marks out of habit.
They engaged in a small game of chase, ducking through junk and rubbish with practised ease. Munkustrap caught Mistoffelees by his long tail again and again, in return Mistoffelees was very proficient in winding himself so thoroughly around his friend that he stumbled over his own long legs, giving him the chance to escape.
If his body elongated far beyond what seemed physically possible while doing so, well. He had learned that from Alonzo, or so he claimed. (Munkustrap was certainly inclined to believe him.)
“Visitors!” the Rum Tum Tugger purred when they arrived at an old threadbare sofa which was mostly used as scratch post and seldom as seating. The springs were very uncomfortable to lay on, even for a cat. Contradictory as he was, Rum Tum Tugger loved to lounge on the sofa.
“We won’t bother you too long,” Munkustrap told him while Mistoffelees pulled his ears back and fluffed his fur.
“Not a word.”
“Magical Mister Mistoffelees… what do you think of me? A little lost dignity won’t stop making me praise you to the Heaviside Layer and beyond. Although humility is healthy, you know.” Tugger smirked and polished a claw on his coat. “At least every once in a while.”
A snort. “As if you’d know.”
Mistoffelees probingly brushed his chin along the side of the sofa arm and began to scratch as if it was going out of style, tail still raised high from Tugger’s praise. Munkustrap settled for washing his ears, just so he had something to do.
“Oh, am I ever so lucky that you know less about me than you think,” Tugger hummed, rolling onto his side and flexing his big paws.
Mistoffelees paused. “Do I?”
“Do you?” Tugger suddenly didn’t seem to be very sure, either.
Munkustrap gave an amused trill. “Oh, definitely.”
“Ah.”
“Well then.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about myself,” Munkustrap continued jauntily, pulling one of his comical faces again.
“I’m all ears,” Mistoffelees goaded him, giving the sofa a good scratch. A shower of sparks shot out of his paws.
“Here’s a thought,” Tugger interrupted hastily, shaking out his mane and sitting up, tail lashing just so to smack the side of Munkustrap’s head. “How about you continue your practice and I make sure there’s nothing and no-one to disturb you? Now that they feel you’re not doing an emergency visit anymore, the kittens will find you in no time, Strappy.”
“I could make them vanish,” Mistoffelees giggled, scratching vigorously at the sofa, sparks flying as if he had strapped mini-fireworks to his paws.
“Hush, you.” Munkustrap gave a thoughtful trill. “You are the strongest kitten magnet around. Won’t your presence make the problem worse?”
“Kitten magnet? Ha. Gotta remember that.” Tugger jumped off the sofa and bumped his head against Munkustrap’s with a chirp. Munkustrap reciprocated with a chirp of his own, standing on the tips of his front paws to give Tugger’s right ear a wash.
“It certainly wasn’t me who taught them, but they can read a room. They know when to leave someone alone, and they follow their instincts. They’ll grow up to be exceptional cats, I’m sure.” The pride in his voice was hidden behind nonchalance, but it was not hidden well.
“I disagree.” Mistoffelees blew away a few sparks from his claws and sheathed them, slowly leading the little group back to his bureau of magic. “They definitely learned that from you.”
“At least the first part,” Munkustrap added teasingly, nipping at Tugger’s flank. The fluffy tomcat guffawed and the chase began anew, this time through other cat-made alleyways and routes that were safe to run through and rough-house about in even for a cat of Tugger’s impressive size.
The kittens did end up finding Rum Tum Tugger, and he ended up being right – after a bit of pleading and comforting and a few placating shimmies of a gorgeous mane, they ran off to play elsewhere, a new game brewing in their little minds, leaving Tugger to enjoy the afternoon in peace and quiet.
And if there were two little cat-shaped glittery clouds chasing each other around the ceiling beams, now that was really none of his business. He was just here to keep them company.
(And to provide them with emergency landing pillows. Just in case.)