Josibelle and Valerina’s metalhead shrouds had been traded in for frilly pink dresses, while Melodooley wore a striped yellow shirt and adorable, bright blue overalls. Her tattered eye patch was replaced with one in the shape of a shiny red heart. Each of them had their hair pulled up and bound in a huge pink bow.
Scattigan just stared, his eyes saucers. “What…”
The three executives shared a skeptical glance at the cutesy band as Sixie Wixie swept up to greet them with a nervous giggle. “Hello! We’re so thrilled to have you. Can I get you anything? Milk? Feather on a string?”
“What…” Scattigan repeated. His jaw worked up and down as words finally found their way out of his mouth. “What did you do to my sign?”
His HELLCATS sign hung at the back of the room, but the letters had been slightly altered. The chromasteel was painted in cheery pink and white, and the S had been hacksawed across the middle, reassembled end-to-end, and moved to the center.
The sign now read HELLO CAT.
Sixie Wixie smiled weakly and lifted her palms in a shrug.
“Surprise?”
Scattigan tore his eyes from living cartoons that had body-snatched his metal band and whirled on Sixie, fists clenched in rage. “Are you hucking kidding me? I leave you alone for five minutes and—”
“Howdy there, all you happy little Gellicle cats and kittens!” Josibelle said brightly. “Who’s ready to have a sing along?”
Valerina and Melodooley raised their paws. “We are! We are!”
“Well that’s just grand!” Josibelle raised her arms. “Hit it, girls!”
Melodooley pattered away on her bongos while Valerina plucked out a jaunty song on her ukulele.
“The pretty pretty kitty is going to the city!” Josibelle sang, rattling her tambourine on her hip.
“The kitty was so pretty she was on the pretty committee!” her bandmates called back.
Scattigan grabbed Sixie Wixie by the shoulders and hustled her out of the executives’ earshot. “You fluffy little son of a…you neutered my HELLCATS!”
Sixie winced as his spit speckled the lenses of her glasses. “I did everything I could! Those girls you picked are about as metal as a collar bell! I figured a kiddie band was better than no band at all!”
“You figured wrong, pussycat!” Scattigan’s pupils dilated and he foamed at the mouth. “I knew you lacked talent, but I didn’t think you could suck it out of an entire room!”
Sixie winced as Scat’s claw tips pierced her sweater. “Ow. Stop. Stop! I’m sorry!”
“It’s so witty when the committee votes to sing a pretty ditty!” Josibelle sang.
“It’s a pity that the ditty is just so itty-bitty!” the others added.
The three music executives gave each other a stolid glance and muttered in hushed tones. After a moment, the Manx glared at Scattigan and cleared her throat.
“So…this is the band you’ve put together for us?”
Scattigan released Sixie with a shove and whirled toward the suits. “Huck no! The band I put together were a trio of scratched-out metalheads! These fluffy abominations are…” He thrust a claw at Sixie. “My hack assistant did this! This is her band! Not mine!”
The woman wrinkled her nose and glanced at Sixie Wixie. “Is that so?”
Sixie rubbed her abused arms and bit her lip. “It is,” she mumbled. “It was…it was the best I could do.”
She gazed at the floor, her eyes dull and defeated. The orange tom nodded, stony faced.
“Well, we love them.”
“I’m really sorry,” Sixie continued. “It’s just that…” She blinked. “Wait, say again?”
Scattigan put it a different way. “Ex-hucking-skuse me?”
“I said we love them,” the tom repeated, deadpan. He glanced at his associates. “Isn’t that right?”
“Indeed,” the tabby said, his face hard and cold as a glacier.
“Oh.” Sixie squinted at their dour expressions. “I’m sorry, are you serious?”
The woman tipped her head in a curt nod. “Absolutely. Feline metal is a relic. A thing of the past.” She waved a paw at Scattigan’s dusty gold discs, then gestured to the band. “This is the future.”
Scattigan’s ears turned back. “This sappy mewling? This is the future?”
“Music like this gets kittens indoctrinated to our brand,” the orange suit said. “If we win their hearts at a young age, they’re our customers for life.”
“A kitty kiddie band shows forward thinking.” The tabby fixed Sixie in a taciturn glare. “We find this very exciting.”
Sixie Wixie blinked. “Wait, are you saying you want to sign HELLO CAT?”
“Yes, of course,” the woman said with an annoyed twitch of her whiskers. “That’s a given. What we’re saying is we want to sign you.”
“What?” Sixie and Scattigan chirped in unison.
The tabby suit pursed his lips. “You’re an innovator. A risk taker. We could use someone like you at our label,” he said. “We’re prepared to make you a very attractive offer.”
Scattigan’s eyes went wide as his rage melted into panic. “Wait. Wait! She works for me! I own her! I own this!” He thrust a claw at the musicians, swaying back and forth as they purred through another chorus. “This is my band! This is my deal! Tell ’em, Sixie!” His expression turned pleading as his voice lowered to a whimper. “Come on, kid. I need this or I’m out on the street.”
A mischievous smile spread on Sixie Wixie’s little white face.
“Don’t worry, Scattigan, I’ve got your back,” she said. “After all, I will be needing an assistant…”
Marcus Alexander Hart is a novelist, karaoke star, and default awesome dude. His books include the paranormal thriller "One Must Kill Another," the subversive romp "Alexis vs. the Afterlife," and the upcoming sci-fi comedy "Galaxy Cruise." He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and two imaginary children.
Find out more at oldpalmarcus.com.
11
Slug
By Ella J. Smyth
A hangover should not include growing four legs and a tail. And why do Macha’s burps taste of mouse?
A Second Chance Academy Short Story
The surface under my cheek felt rough and cold. I kept my eyes closed against the glare of the sun burning through my eyelids. My whole body lay on its side, pressed down by ache and fatigue.
What had happened last night? Had I gotten drunk and passed out? Slowly, disjointed images wavered through my sluggish mind.
A woman, tall and foreign-looking, with pale skin and long black hair. Her pinning me with a withering stare. Another image popped up. A white flare, like you might see from a boat in distress. A bang loud enough for my hands to reflexively fly up to cover my ears. Then nothing.
Great. I still had no idea what had happened, never mind where I was.
You won't either, if you don't open your eyes, you fool.
A superhuman effort later, I stared at a puddle of brackish water next to my face. Then the smell reached my nostrils. Rotting garbage, piss, stale booze, with a side-order of puke. I swallowed hard against the urge to add to the mess.
Tightening my body, I meant to roll to my front. That’s when things went weird. I stopped in utter shock.
What is going on? What the everlasting h...
A sound I didn't recognize burst from my chest. Something like a wheeze, unlike anything a person would produce. Which kind of made sense because what I was staring at in growing horror were my hands. Or rather paws. Cat's paws, complete with fuzzy orange fur.
What? No. What? No way. WHAT?
I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut to stop my mind from melting into a never-ending circle of questions and denial.
Alright then. I'm a cat. No, I'm not. I can't be. This doesn't happen to people.
Quickly, I corrected myself. This didn’t used to happen to people, not until the magical reactor blew up and contaminated the world with a fallout of
gene-altering particles.
One year later, there were still effects that hadn't been discovered or explored by the governmental cleanup crews. It was bad enough ordinary people hadn't even known that there were humans endowed with magical powers.
But after the explosion, weird stuff kept happening, and suddenly normal folks had manifested with powers they had no clue how to control. But people being changed into animals? That hadn't been in the news.
I opened my eyes and stared at my paws. Slowly, I turned my head and checked the rest of my body. Yep. Orange fur covered my ass from head to toe. At the very back, a tail, tipped with white and black, swung angrily from side to side. Time for another freak-out.
Nononononononono... I allowed myself to spiral into despair and disbelief for a few seconds, while my body did what it wanted to do. My back lengthened and my hind and front paws stretched in opposite directions.
Oh God, this feels good. Better than it ever felt.
My whiskers quivered with delight as I allowed the relaxing feeling to flow through me. At the very end of the stretch, my claws popped out.
Ohhhhhhh, bliss.
A dog barked nearby. And just like that, I was at high alert. I could figure out how to turn back later. Now I had to get to safety. Thankfully, the sound moved on past the entrance of the alleyway I’d found myself in.
Gingerly, I got to my feet. And then I nearly fell over again, because I couldn't remember my name. But surely I must have a name. I remembered the house I lived in, my parents, my little sister. Everything before I met the tall woman was clear as day.
Yet no matter how much I strained my memory, my name didn't pop up. An icy premonition made me catch my breath. What if my smaller animal brain couldn't hold on to my humanity? How long would it be until I lost other memories? Until I was nothing but an ordinary cat?
I needed to figure this out, sooner rather than later. But first, I had to get out of this alley. Moving my paws quickly, I strained toward the exit. Only to fall flat on my face.
Again, what the hell? Apparently, walking with four legs was a little more difficult than with two. And my feline body was too new to have developed much of a muscle memory. Wariness of dogs, yes. Knowing how to walk, apparently a hard no.
Come on, you're smart. You'll figure this out. Right front foot first, left front foot next. Now my body was stretched to its limit, and the back legs hadn't moved yet. Try again. I shuffled the front portion of my body back.
Right front foot first. Right back foot next. Both feet moved forward, unbalancing me so that I tipped over on to my side.
Oh, for hell’s sake. This can't be that hard. I'm human, even if I'm stuck for the moment. Grumbling, I got up again.
Right front foot first. Then the left back foot. Left front foot. Right back foot.
I was a long way away from moving as gracefully as a real cat, but I was doing it. Right front, back left, front left, back right. And again.
Step by awkward step, I moved out of the alley onto a larger road. There were people walking past me, barely giving me a glance.
I stopped and stared upwards. The view was completely different from down here. I could barely see people's faces, only their feet, legs, and lower bodies. Anything higher up strained my neck.
There seemed to be something wrong with my eyes. Close up, my vision was sharp. But within a few feet, things turned blurry. By the next block of houses, it was all a mist.
And the colors were off, too. Blues and greens were fine, but reds and pink seemed washed out. In fact, all the colors weren't as full or saturated as when I was a human.
Weird. So this is how cats see. Shrugging internally, I moved my feet to get out. But once again, I'd forgotten I had four legs. Before I’d gotten myself under control, I tripped over my tail and fell against a man's legs.
“Oh, gross.”
A black brogue kicked me sharply in the ribs. To be fair, had I been a real cat, I would have avoided the blow easily. But as a dude newly stuck in a foreign body, I didn't have a chance. The impact flung me against the wall of a building. It hurt. The man barely gave me another look as he rushed on.
I lay there for a moment before getting up. My head hurt, but no worse than before. I quickly checked my extremities. Nothing broken, although my hindquarters ached like a big bruise, and my ribs were twinging where the asshole's foot had connected.
My head bent down further than my human neck ever could. Instinct took over once again, and I stuck out my tongue and ran it along the aching parts. I shivered. Oh wow, this feels good.
There was a texture to my tongue that flattened the hairs just so. The pressure and coolness of the touch soothed not just my external injuries, but brought a serenity I found incredibly calming. When I was done cleaning my chest and the bruises on my butt, I felt so much better.
Right, let's try again. Right foot forward, left back foot, front left foot, right back foot.
It was still hard going, but after a few hundred yards, I finally had the hang of it. One thing was for sure—my feline mind found it far easier to focus on one task at a time. As a human, I was used to a hundred synapses firing at the same time. As a cat, I concentrated on walking forward without falling over. Easy.
When I reached the next crossing, I finally knew where I was. My house wasn't far from here. First, I'd find my parents. They'd help. They always did. All I had to do was get to them.
My cat body was slinky enough to fit through the bars on my front gate. All I had to do now was get into the house and see my mom. At the last moment, I remembered the family dog.
Oh, no. Bouncer was a great dog. He'd been with the family as long as I could remember. A rescue dog, Bouncer was as aggressive toward outsiders as he was loving to his family. His instincts were to chase every cat, even though he never actually hurt them.
My heart beat like crazy just thinking of the dog hunting me. Maybe today was the day Bouncer decided to bite down hard. The last thing I needed was an injury from his sharp pitbull teeth.
A ten-foot fence shielded the backyard from prying eyes. But the back door to the house would be open this time of year. Crouching below the obstacle, I made a plan.
I’d watched the neighbor's cat clear the fence with one jump all the time. I stared at the top of the fence post where the cat had perched only the other day.
Here we go. Tightening my hind muscles, I pushed off and up.
Wooo!
My body flew through the air, defying gravity. Stretching my front paws, claws extended, I got close enough to grab on to the top of the wooden structure.
And then, just at the zenith of the curve, my body slowed, stopped, and descended, half an inch from the wooden wall in front of my paws. Frantically, my claws scrambled to gain purchase, but it was no use. As if in slow motion, my four legs spread wide, I slid downwards until my butt hit the concrete painfully.
“Nonono.” I tried to say. What came out of my mouth was an ill-tempered growl. My back hurt from the impact. So did my legs and my side.
For the next few minutes, I pressed myself against the gate, curled into a ball, feeling extremely sorry for myself. Could it get any worse? I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course it could.
Heavy footsteps approached the other side of the fence, followed by the excited yapping of Bouncer. I pressed myself tighter against the wooden barrier, feeling dread crawl up my neck like a strangler’s grip.
My dog was easily big enough to kill a cat, not that he'd ever done it before, as far as I knew. But my human reasoning was finding it hard to overcome the instinctive fear that reached into my marrow. I knew—knew—that the dog could break my neck as easily as I, in my human form, would crack the wishbone of a roast chicken.
The barking increased in volume before the door swung open, and an overexcited pit bull came barreling through.
"Hold up, Bouncer. Can you smell Macha?"
Macha. That was my name. Thank God, at least something I remembered from before I got turned into
a frigging cat. Macha. Having a name again made me feel better somehow.
A cold, wet nose pushed against my face. I recoiled, my feline instincts taking over.
"Move back. Bad dog." I tried to say. Instead of words, I opened my mouth and hissed.
"What have you got there, Bouncer?"
My father's deep voice sounded so close by, I coiled myself even tighter, fighting the urge to escape, attack, anything but be helpless in front of the giant man and the massive dog.
The cold nose was back, a tongue licking me squarely across the face. What the hell? Without losing a second, my paw flew out and smacked the dog across the nose. At least my claws had stayed in; otherwise, Bouncer might have been hurt.
Instead, the dog pulled back in confusion. What a strange situation. My father obviously didn't recognize me, but Bouncer smelled his owner's scent on the cat in front of him.
I was losing the battle between my human need to stay close to the familiar and the cat's instinct to flee. When my dad finally had enough of the odd standoff between the strange animal and the family dog, he shooed me.
"Git, cat. You don't belong here. Come on, get away. Go home."
That's all I needed. My body recoiled, then slunk away at high speed, past my dad's legs. Apparently, if I let my new body take over, it operated far more smoothly.
Once I reached some bushes at the other side of the residential road, I stopped. Dropping under the concealing foliage, I reassessed my situation.
There was no way my parents recognized me like that. Maybe Bouncer had, but he couldn't speak. There really was no point in staying here. My best bet would be to find the woman who’d done this to me and beg her to turn me back.
Once the coast was clear, I made my way to the alley where I'd woken up. As a cat, I didn't have a canine's amazing nose. Nor could I see particularly well. But I was slinky if I put my mind to it, and fast and vicious if the situation required. And I still had my human mind. There was no reason why I shouldn't be able to figure this out.
Hellcats: Anthology Page 18
