Chapter 5: Caught with a Paw in the Cookie-Jar.
Over the course of the next few days, the citizens of Baltimare found themselves victim of a mysterious pranking-spree. No one knew what was going on, but things appeared or disappeared all the time. Practical jokes were happening constantly. No one knew who was behind all of this. No one, except for me.
I had to practice my illusions somehow, didn’t I?
Allow me to properly introduce myself once more. I’m a cat in Equestria with the power of dreams, also known as illusions. My name… is Jazz. Yes, I’ve finally found a name for myself. And what better name than ‘Jazz the Cat’? Don’t look at me like that, you think I’d have gone for a name like ‘Top-Cat’ or ‘Scatcat’? Too unoriginal.
But why ‘Jazz’ you ask? Well, I have a huge love for music and especially things including a sax. So, I went with Jazz.
Shut up, it makes sense!
It’s better than calling myself something including a fruit while trying to be punny and then regretting it for the rest of my life or whatever…
It’s been a few days since I’ve arrived in Baltimare and I’ve learned a few things about Equestria. Did you know that animals have their own society just like ponies? Yeah, I was pleasantly surprised to find both restaurants and various shops in the back-alleys of Baltimare. Granted the animals, which are mostly made out of felines, rodents and other city-animals you’d find as pets or rummaging in the trashcans, don’t live in houses. No, that would be weird; we’re animals for Christ sake. We sleep wherever we freaking want to.
Which is why I sleep in a cardboard box. What can I say? You need a certain amount of street-cred to live in a trashcan. But hey, I like it; it’s home in some ways. I don’t have running water, light or heat of any kind, it’s home. “But a blanket would have been nice to have.”
Rule number one in animal society: you’re on your own unless you’re in a group. I’m not, so I’m on my own. Rule number two: food is an easy substitute to money. Rule number three: if you have no food, you can’t buy food (And I thought Earth’s economy was weird!).
So what do you do when you don’t have food to buy food? You go hunt for it.
Back-alleys aren’t as bad as you’d think. Certainly not as dirty and messy as back on Earth. Yeah, it’s not as nice as the actual streets, but as a city-cat, you can find food there. I remember hearing about people rummaging the garbage-bins outside the supermarkets back home. The idea was that some of the groceries were thrown out due to expiring-dates, but weren’t actually bad enough to eat them. Here’s a lesson kids: Just because the meat/vegetables is one or two days too old, doesn’t mean that it can’t be eaten (unless otherwise ruined of course).
“Check the bins they said. It tastes OK they said. Bah!” I muttered to myself from the bottom of the bin. “Those cats have never tried McDonalds... Not that there’s much difference between this and that, hehe.”
I dragged my furry little ass out of the bin and continued my search for food. I didn’t plan on staying long in Baltimare, but until I was ready, I had to eat something. So far I had been looking all day without results.
So imagine my delight, when I find an entire storage of food stored away in a big box in an alley!
“Property of ‘Monkey’?” Oh great, this is someone else’s. I don’t want to steal anything. Yes, I stole that fish from Fishy, but there’s a difference between that and this. Fishy was already planning on selling that fish and as such had no relation to it. This on the other paw, it plain stealing others property. Who knows what he had to go through to gather all of this food?
“HOLY CRAP THIS IS DELICIOUS!”
This place has EVERYTHING! Meat, fish, fruit, vegetables, water, everything a cat could want (even though I biologically can’t eat half of this, but my stomach doesn’t need to know that).
Or maybe the correct word for it would be, that it had everything. I hadn’t planned on eating this much, but I couldn’t help myself. At the moment I was just about to eat the last fish (and last piece of sustenance in here) when I got interrupted by a cough.
I turned to the opening of the box and saw, to my dismay (and hilarity), a large group of mice. I knew that I couldn’t fight off that many rodents, even considering my size, and on principle I don’t eat anything living. Imagine if your bacon was screaming while you ate it.
Not pretty, am I right?
So I did the only thing I could do in this situation, with my mouth full of fish and a face full of crumbs. “Dun fell Munkey…” Surrendered, dropped the fish and raised my paws in the air. King of action, right here.
The last thing that went through my mind, before I got hit in the back of my head, was a hilarious joke about how I had just dropped the bass.
I awoke in the most cliché way possible. A bucket of water to the face in a dark room, surrounded by thugs, tied to a chair, yadda yadda yadda. Adding a bit of my own distinctive touch, I quoted ‘The Lion King’ and used the good old ‘Take me to your leader’. So now here I am walking down a chandelier-lit hallway filled with portraits of what looked like crime-bosses (of various species), accompanied by thugs on either side of me and a feeling of being in the most cliché-filled gangster-movie ever.
I love my life!
OK, I’m caught by mobsters, but hey, this is officially the coolest moment in my life.
As we got to the end of the hallway we stopped by a large oak door. I casually began to imagine what the boss of this gang would look like. And let me tell you; he was all that and everything else you could ever want.
Behind a desk made of… give me a minute. *ahem* Mahogany, sat a business-suit wearing monkey. He had slick, combed hair and a small mustache. He seriously reminded me of Vito Corleone.
And come on! He’s a monkey! A monkey! That’s like the best thing ever! If Peter Pan ever tells me to think of the happiest things, this is the guy I’ll think about!
His accent helped complete the image. “Hello Mr. Jazz. Welcome to my humble abode.” I was just about to ask why the fuck he called this place ‘an abode’ (seriously, look at this place) and how he knew my name, but he held up a hand to silence me. “I have my sources Mr. Jazz. So, you think ya can just waltz in here, like some big guy, and take my things?” He went on with the typical ‘Have you any idea how long it took me to collect?’ etcetera. I wasn’t paying attention.
You try to pay attention when a small bundle of hair on his head bounces every time he speaks. It’s hypnotic! I had to mentally chant to myself not to snicker at the crime lord, but I was barely holding on. One little joke and I would be gone.
“Do you have any idea of who I am?” I shook my head. Oh please don’t be something funny. “I am Don Monkey.” OK, I can live with that. Not laughing. “Head of-“
*slam* “And stay in that cell until you’ve learned to respect the boss!” The thug yelled at me from the other side of the iron bars.
OK, I may have chuckled at bit…
“Head of the Baltimare Moufia”
“…” My left eye twitched.
“Hello? Did ya hear me?”
“…BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! That is the dumbest pun I’ve ever heard!” I’m so doomed.
…And I may have broken a precious Ming-vase…
“-HAHAHAHAHA*crash*HAHA, oh… Oh, HAHAHA, I’m… I’m soo-hooo-hooo sorry, HAHAHAHAHA”
…And insulted the primate with an insult, only humans would understand when his guys sent me down here.
“Take him down to the cells.”
“Hahaha, I never even watched ‘Godfather’! Hahahaha!”
It could be worse; at least I’m in a proper dungeon. Not some fancy-smansy dungeon with a real bed and windows. No no, a real dungeon. As in a pile of hay to sleep on, no windows and rats running around everywhere (albeit for different reasons. I think they’re the guards around here).
But there’s one thing that this dungeon has, which my box didn't have, that I’m thankful for.
“Uh, a blanket! Nice!”