Tuesday, 27 January 2009

The Curious Case Of The Missing Alleycats - An Intrigue (Part The Last)

Part The Last - To All Things, An Ending

Tiny furry things, tearing at me, clawing at me. They were everywhere and were closing in! Closer... Closer... There was no escape...

I awoke with a start but soon realised I had merely been trapped within the nightmares of unconsciousness. However, once I awoke to discover that I was trussed to a pole surrounded by wriggling, spitting, hissing cats (who were equally confined, mainly about my person, and far more unhappy about it), my relief faded somewhat.

After a brief spell cursing the Inspector's name in as many languages as I could muster whilst simultaneously trying to avoid a hideous mauling at the claws of the enraged moggies, I settled down and took in my surroundings. To call the refuse-strewn alleyway in which I found myself imprisoned "dank" would be doing a great disservice to soggy, rat-infested hellholes everywhere. The words "squalid" and "fetid" would also not have been vastly out of place.

I did not have long, however, to ponder my pole-ish incarceration for my gloomy reverie was soon interrupted by the bowel-tremblingly nauseating sound of the creature's inhuman bellow. An unfortunate side effect of this monstrous sound was the renewed attempts by the terrified cats to escape; an uncomfortable sensation, to say the least[1]. The damp slap of the entity's rotting feet began to creep into my hearing over the sound of the petrified moggies and its hideously mangled countenance started to hove into view along the decrepit alleyway.

I'd like to say that I maintained my dignity in these trying circumstances but my valet, who was later tasked with salvaging my attire, would attest differently. It shambled ever closer and I would swear that its ghastly face contained the hint of a leer. As I could feel its rancid breath flowing against my roguishly handsome features (and causing undue moistening of my mustachios), I began to wonder if this was to be the final curtain for the good Squire.

The creature's unearthly wail once again filled the air. But wait! What was this? The noise appeared to have emanated from further away, not from the beast before me. A second abomination rounded the corner! My heart sank even further as I realised that I was soon to be devoured by not one but two of the foul apparitions.

The beast in front of me turned away and began to approach the other. Maybe I would be spared, maybe they would destroy each other and leave me to the mildly murderous intentions of my trapped cats instead. They drew closer and closer... then contact! But it didn not appear to me that they were fighting. In fact, there appeared to be a certain tenderness in the way there were touching each other. Could this other creature be the original's mate, not it's rival?

Sadly, we shall never know, for that was the moment that good old Sleddy Edgars and the rest of the Peelers chose to descend upon the scene with blunderbusses blazing. I doubt that the remaining fine red mist which had once been the two beasts was up to answering many questions on that score.

Once I was released from my feline incarceration and I had rewarded Edgars for his efforts with a rather fetching black eye, I squelched my scratched and soiled way home. A long soak in the tub, some iodine for my cat-related injuries, a change of clothes and a stiff glass (or two) of finest cognac later and I was ready to retire to bed. Mind you, it was still early and Madame Evangeline's would just be getting into the swing of things at about this time. I ventured out in search of some comfort after my trying day - but thats a story for another time...

Here Endeth The Squires Tale

Editor's Note:- Further tales from the good Squire's body of work will be forthcoming.


[1] "Excruciatingly bloody painful" would be getting closer


  1. Excellent to see the Squire has more than one life, just like his erstwhile feline hostage companions. Narrow escape, that.

    Surprised there was no 'cat-erwauling' involved.
    Really, glad to see he missed a 'cat-astrophic' end in that alley!
    (double rimshot)

    Okay, that's enough of the bad puns. Perhaps a snifter or two of that cognac would do me...

  2. I 'cat'-egorically encourage the punning (OK, I'll let it lie now)