Gazing sadly around at the tall tabbys and other patterned toms, Mistoffelees gazed woefully down at his own body. His dull little body, he thought, turning his paws over slowly, scrutinising the dull black fur.
Boring, he thought to himself. That’s what I am. They are all coloured and look at me…black and white. Not even like Alonzo! Just…boring. Not even one special marking…just like any black and white tuxedo.
“Hey, Misto.” Turning, he found himself face-to-face with the least boring tom he knew and his best friend. “Not planning on shooting any lightening at Munk’s backside, are ya?”
Tugger grinned naughtily, nodding in Munkustrap’s direction. The tall silver tabby did present a very tempting target, bending over to look into the stove.
“Go on,” Tugger goaded him on, suddenly pulling Misto’s arms up and aiming his hands in the vague direction of the noble silver rump. “You know you want to.”
Quirking his left eyebrow slightly, he knew his best friend was right and an instant later, he and Tugger fell over one another to scamper into their hiding places, as Munkustrap gave a yell and leapt upright, banging his head inside the stove.
Rubbing his singed rear with one paw and his throbbing head with the other, Munkustrap frowned, gazing slowly around the crowded junkyard, looking for the culprit.
“Have you seen Misto?” Munkustrap called to Plato, on the far side of the junkyard.
The young tom shrugged, a look of panic suddenly crossing his face and he ducked out of sight, swiftly followed by many of the other cats in the yard, leaving Munkustrap feeling suspicious and even more paranoid.
One paw clamped firmly to his derriere, he limped to the centre of the unnaturally quiet yard, glancing left and right for any signs of life.
“Stick ’em up, pardner!” As if on cue, a dustball was swept across the sandy ground by the barest puff of a breeze and Munkustrap slowly turned to see Tugger on one knee, aiming Misto’s arm at him, Misto’s slight body practically held horizontal to the ground, under Tugger’s muscular arm.
Misto’s pure white face seemed to have gone even whiter but his expression gave him away, his eyebrow rising again, as if to say “We got ya now!”
“You keep doing that and it’ll stick!” Munkustrap tried his best to remain dignified, but it ached so badly that he couldn’t bear to raise his paw from his burnt behind.
“Tugger,” Misto put on a whiny, spoilt-kitten voice. “He’s scaring me. What are ya gonna do about it?”
“Scarin’ you?” Tugger looked down at his fully-automatic, purr-sonel weapon, his eyes full of concern. “We can’t have my big brother scarin’ a kitten like you!” Grinning wickedly at Munkustrap, he laughed. “I say we …show him what he gets for playin…er…Munk…where’d ya think you’re going?”
“I’m…em…walking away.” Smiling brightly, the silver tabby sidled towards the nearest solid object, keeping his eyes firmly on Tugger and his little lightening conductor.
“Ya hear that!” In an injured tone, he buried his face in Misto’s fur. “He’s walkin’ away!” Scrutinising his brother out of the corner of his eye, he mumbled, around a mouthful of black fur, “Maybe we should let him…”
“Bu…but…he scared me!” Pouting, Misto poked at Tugger. “You can’t let him get away with that!”
“By gum!” Tugger’s head snapped round. “You’re right!” Swinging the little tux up again, he grinned manically at his brother. “Ready…”
“Ready!” Came back the muffled mumble.
“Aim!”
A black paw shot up and pointed directly at Munkustrap. “Aim!” The same voice echoed.
“Fire!”
A blast of electricity shot from the little tom’s paws, hitting the ground at Munkustrap’s paws, making him dance and hop awkwardly around, trying to avoid the heat.
“Dance, monkey! Dance!” Tugger laughed, leaning on Misto’s shoulder, watching his eldest and most respected brother hotfoot to safety.
“Aww…he ran away!” Misto cast a sidelong glance at Tugger, who slapped his sidekick heartily on the back, still laughing, wiping a tear from his eye.
“Ooh…that was so funny! Dad’s gonna kill me, but dang!” Shaking his head, he grinned. “It was worth it! Did ya see him?” Breaking into a frantic impression of Munkustrap, Tugger bounced around. “Ow! Ee! Ooh! Eek!”
Misto grinned shaking his head, as the taller tom tripped over his tail and crashed in a heap on the ground. “You look daft!”
Almost as the words left his mouth, Tugger was surrounded by his adoring fan club, all ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aah’ –ing over him and checking him for injuries.
“I may look daft,” He smirked. “But these lovely ladies don’t mind. Admit Misto,” Preening, he sighed, “I’m just too good-looking for you to deal with.”
“Yeah, Misto!” Jemima giggled. “Why do you look so plain? You don’t have any special marks or anything. You look boring.”
Staring at her, Misto shook his head wordlessly, stumbling back. With a hurt look at Tugger, he turned and fled, ignoring his friend’s suddenly concerned shouts of, “Misto?”
Racing across the yard, he slid into a pipe, his heart thumping against his ribs, his eyes stinging with bitter tears that he refused to let fall, his throat burning.
Twisting and turning through the labyrinth of pipes, making his way surefootedly through the darkness and started mumble to keep himself from letting the tears fall. “Are you blind when you’re born?…can you see in the daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…”
A soft thump followed and a soft whimper. Dropping onto his haunches, he looked up at the pipe, half-wondering why he hadn’t known about it. He knew these tunnels like he knew his own whiskers and that pipe had not been there before.
Swallowing hard, he forced back the tears that had been blurring his vision for so long and looks around. Curiousity, as always, got the better of the cat.
“Who are you?” A harsh voice croaked.
Whirling round, Misto came face to face with what could have been an aged replica of himself. A bent, old, tatty tuxedo.
“Who are you?” He echoed, staring at the pitiful creature. He’d never seen anyone in such a mess…except, perhaps, Grizabella at the ball, several weeks before.
“I asked first.” Scrutinising the young tom, the elder one coughed violently, narrowing his eyes.
“I…I’m Mistoffelees.” Misto stammered nervously. “I’m the jellicle conjuring cat.”
“You are, are you?” Turning his back on the confused young tom, the old tom wandered away into the darkness. “Well, well, well…imagine that…a conjuring cat, indeed. Heh.”
“Um…excuse me.”
“Eh?”
“I was wondering…that is…how do you get out of here?” Looking around, Misto shivered unconsciously.
“Get out?” The old tom snorted with laughter. “I thought you came here to hide. Why would you want to get out?”
“Hide? No…that’s not it…I fell…I was running…” The older tom’s quizzical expression stopped him mid-sentence.
“Running, eh? What from?”
“My….my friends.” Lowering his head, Misto sighed. “They’re all so… so…”
“Colourful?” The old tom sounded almost wistful.
“How did you…”
“I had the same problem, my boy.” Smiling sadly at Misto, the old tom gestured for him to sit. “All my friends were calicos, tabbies, siamese…I was a tux. Just like every other tux. Nothing different at all.”
Sitting down, Misto nodded at the old tom to continue. “What happened?”
“This.” He gestured to the dank cavern that they sat in. “This is my home now. I’m so common, with nothing to differentiate me from any other tux. I can’t look any other cat in the face. This is what I’ve become.”
Misto looked round at the dark, slime-coated walls then back at the sad figure huddled next to him, a chill washing over him, slowly raising an eyebrow. “This?”
“Wait a minute…” The old tom held out a shaking paw, his eyes on Misto’s face. “What was that you just did?”
“What do you mean?” The old tom beckoned him closer and Misto moved, uncertain. “What did I do?”
Touching Misto’s face, he poked at one of the young tom’s jet black eyebrows with a blunt claw. “Make it move!” He demanded. “Make it go up!”
Shrugging, Misto raised his left eyebrow, in the gesture that had been dubbed the Mistobrow, and jumped as the old tom broke into a hacking, wheezing laugh.
“Eeh! That’s marvellous!” Clapping his paws together, he ordered. “Do it again.”
Dubious, Misto repeated the gesture, trying not to grin as his companion started to cheer and laugh in earnest.
“That’s incredible!” Slapping Misto on the shoulder, he remarked. “That’s a special talent you’ve got in that brow. Never seen anything like it in a tux before.”
“Really?” There was a spark of hope! Not all tuxes could do that!
“Of course.” Chuckled the old one. “The rest of us…we just have straight, still black brows…yours curves and moves!”
“I’d never really thought of that.” He mused thoughtfully. “Do you think I’d look different enough if I made it stay up?”
“Stay up?” His white teeth gleaming in his white face, the old tux nodded. “Not just an average straight tux brow anymore.” Scrutinising Misto, he enquired. “Would you be able to make it stay?”
“I’ve done it before.” He grinned, raising his brow as high as he could and holding it. “But,” He let his brow sink again, mournfully, “There’s not much point if there’s no way out.”
“But there is!” The old tom chuckled. “I was just wanting company…but you’re different…”
“And so are you!” Misto took the tom’s paws in his own and squeezed them. “You’re different to all the other tuxes cos you taught me about being different!”
“I am?” Tilting his head at his young companion, he gave a deep, hoarse chuckle. “I am! I don’t have to stay here! I’m different! Lets go out and show those coloureds that us black and whites can be different too!”
“That’s the spirit.” Misto grinned, his spirits – and his eyebrow – soaring, taking the older tom’s arm to support him. “Which way do we go, sir?”
“Through that wall, Mistoffelees.” He nodded. “And call me Caeser.”
“Alright, Caeser.” Misto try to force back a grin.
“Quit grinning!” The roman emperor rolled his eyes. “My humans gave me that name before I ran away.”
The pair exchanged glances, laughter breaking the tension once again, as they made their way back out into the daylight, where they immediately heard an argument going on.
“But Tugger said he was better looki…”
“It was a joke, Jemima. Misto knows I was joking”
“I was joking too!” The kittenish voice sounded close to tears. “I didn’t know he’d run away!”
“Well you shouldn’t have said such a stupid thing th…”
“Tugger,” Munkustrap, intervening as always, Misto noticed. “Leave the kitt alone. Its your fault as much as hers…”
“I know.” Tugger somehow sounded subdued. Quieter than usual.
Sneaking around the edge of the car, Munkustrap spotted the little tux immediately, but a frantic paw to his lips by Misto ensured the obliviousness of his friend.
“All I want is to get him back.” Tugger sighed dejectedly.
“He’s only been gone a little while, Tugger,” Munkustrap reassured him, glancing back at Misto, choking back a laugh as the magic cat slowly raised his paws. “He’ll be back soon, I bet.”
“How can you be so su-ooooo-re?!” Rubbing his rump, Tugger whirled round with a grin. “Misto, you little nut! I knew it was you!”
“Who else would it be, ya flea-bag?” Misto laughed as Tugger marched over and grabbed him, hugging the breath out of him. “Er…Tugger…air …need some…”
“Oops!” Tugger grinned wickedly, dropping him in a heap, looking him over carefully for damage. “Hey!”
“What?” Misto struggled to his paws, brushing the dust of his coat indignantly.
“Your eyebrow!” Tugger exclaimed. “Wow! I like it!”
“Different, huh?” The little tux grinned mischievously. “I have one person to thank for helping me see it…”
“Me?”
“Nah! Caeser.” Misto laughed.
“As in Julius?” Scratching his head with a confused frown, Tugger remarked. “I think I missed something.”
“This,” Pulling the old tom into the light, Misto smiled. “Is Caeser. He helped me see that everyone is different.”
“How deep and touching and potentially-philosophical.” Tugger rolled his eyes again. “Only one really good thing comes out of this for you, mate.”
“Huh?”
“The unique eyebrow.” Tugger poked it lightly with a claw, “Thanks to you and Julius…”
“Caeser.” Misto corrected.
“Right, Caeser,” Tugger nodded. “Thanks to you and Caeser, that eyebrow will go down in history.”
