CW 35: Bubble and Sass

I wrote this today as part of my commitment to the Clarion West Write-a-thon. A dedication means that person sponsored it by donating to CW, and then provided me a writing prompt that sparked the piece. If you would like something written especially for you, please consider sponsoring me.

Here’s all the work of the 41 days. You’ll also find these pieces cross-posted at Sterling Editing as incentive for writers to practice their editing and story-building skills.

Enjoy.

---

Bubble and Sass

For Nicola, who wanted another story of Bubble. I love you.

Bubble the Box-Master was relieved when all but one of the Usurper’s boxes were quelled and their flattened carcasses carried away. One box was no trouble, but so many at once, all needing reconnoiter, domination of contents, and then regular re-intimidation… it was frankly exhausting, and took time from his responsibilities in the neighborhood. Pirate was becoming restive without proper supervision, and there was a tribe of rats in an oak tree on the next block whose spines needed snapping.

At least the Usurper was finding his proper role in the order of things. He had learned to recognize rudimentary commands — out, in, food, lap — and was proving unexpectedly good at helping Staff understand the autonomy a busy cat required.

“Oh, let him out, Susan, he’s got things to do.”

“What if he runs away again?”

“He didn’t run away. He came to find me and bring me back to you.”

“Danny, you don’t know anything about cats. They don’t fetch,” Staff said. “But I love that you’re such a romantic.”

#

Bubble made his rounds and found a message from Scooter: Oak tree. New development.

Scooter was waiting under a bush. Bubble settled beside him. Rat trouble?

Scooter twitched his tail in a laugh. Trouble for rats.

A soldier rat lay dead under the tree. A second made its way cautiously along a branch overhead. Step, step, pause. Step, step, pause, a black-eyed terrified look at the crushed warrior below. Step, step–

Whooosh. Death dropped from a crook in the tree, landed with four-footed surety, seized the rat in sharp teeth and broke its neck with casual elegance, then slung the body sideways and sent it spinning to land splayed near its fallen comrade.

The tabby cat on the branch stared at Bubble and Scooter with green-eyed battle joy. She gave them a hiss of triumph, then turned and leaped, twisted beautifully, landed lightly on her feet, grabbed one of the dead rats in her jaws, and disappeared into the bushes.

Bubble blinked in approval.

Toldja, Scooter said.

They rose and stretched, and investigated the remaining rat. A beautiful kill; and the intoxicating scent of the killer. I like her, Scooter said. Bubble turned a cold stare on him and bristled slightly. But not really my type, nope, not all all, good luck with that, Boss, Scooter said, and hunched a moment before he took himself off in the other direction.

Who was she, this mysterious malefactor of rats? Bubble the Besotted followed her trail into the brush.

#

And around. And around. And again around the neighborhood in a loop. She was everywhere but wherever he was. Bubble the Backtracker approved of her more and more. He like a challenge.

He found her, at last, in his own back yard. She sprawled in the grass, licking her leg unconcernedly. The second rat body lay a foot away.

Bubble assumed the crouch of non-hostility for a minute, and then proceed to give himself a thorough bath as well. Eventually, she rose and yawned and stretched, and came to touch noses with him.

Sassafras, she said. I brought lunch.

Bubble’s heart swelled. A huntress. It was so romantic.

They ate the rat except for the liver, which Bubble encouraged Sass to leave as a gift for Staff and the Usurper. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the Usurper came out barefoot, stepped on the liver, yelled, “Yooock!” and dropped the box on the patio while he hobbled back inside calling for Staff to bring him a paper towel.

He didn’t eat it, Sass said.

They never do, Bubble said. But they seem to appreciate it anyway. Come on and help me with this box.

By the time the Usurper returned with the packet of Friskies treats, Bubble and Sassafras were curled up together in the box. Sass was asleep: beside her, Bubble the Boyfriend raised a baleful eye.

“Awesome,” said the Usurper. “You go, dude.” He shook some liver-flavored nuggets from the packet and put them within reach. Enough for two.

Very good. Very good indeed. A reward was in order. Bubble butted the Usurper’s hand and rechristened him Majordomo. Tomorrow he would make sure to mark all Majordomo’s possessions properly, and then turn his attention to the delicate matter of introducing Sassafras and Staff. Always so much work to do. It was frankly exhausting, being head of a family.

He blinked, settled himself more comfortably against Sassafras, and went to sleep; and dreamed of rat corpses piled ten deep, of drowsy tumbles in the afternoon, of black and tabby kittens in the sun.