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Happee Days by alyse [Reviews - 38]
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Category: Anthropomorfic
Characters: Other
Rating: PG
Genres: Humour
Warnings: None

Summary: LOLCats fic, starring Basement Cat/Ceiling Cat
Written for the 'butterfly kiss' square on my kissbingo card.



Story Notes:
I'd blame other people, but this is all me. For my sins, and they are many.

Many thanks to Aithine for betaing and pointing out my completely crappy geography. I can't even figure out the lay of my own land never mind anyone else's. Consequently, any geographical mistakes remaining are hers, all hers.

(Apparently I can blame someone for something! o/)


"OH HAI!"

Basement Cat rolled his eyes before turning pointedly in a half-circle until he was facing resolutely away from his arch nemesis. Not that it would stop Ceiling Cat from persisting in his ridiculous attempts to engage Basement Cat in conversation.

And bang on cue, Ceiling Cat's voice drifted from behind him. No one could ever accuse Ceiling Cat of taking a hint.

"I HAS A HAPPEE!"

Of course he did. No one could ever accuse Ceiling Cat of being possessed with anything approaching a functioning brain, either, not when he was seemingly powered solely by sunbeams and rainbows.

It was sickening. At least Basement Cat had the decency to subsist solely on the dark despair of human misery, supplemented by the occasional puppy stupid enough to stumble too close to his basement window. That was how natural selection worked, after all.

"U HAS A HAPPEE?"

"No," he said shortly, still with his back turned pointedly towards the inbred fluffy ingrate. "I do not, nor do I want to, have a 'happy'." He let his tail twitch a couple of times as well, just to drive the point home, and somewhere in Arkansas a tornado formed.

Of course, the tail twitch didn't work either, not on Ceiling Cat. There were black holes that were less dense, and Basement Cat should know given that most of them had started out as his furballs.

There was no doubt about it - in terms of sheer entrotropic evil, he was Top Cat.

"SAD CAT IS SAD," said Ceiling Cat mournfully, and Basement Cat's tail twitched again, more violently this time as his irritation levels rose. Hurricanes had previously been unheard of in Tennessee.

He rolled lithely over onto his side, letting his tail beat out a staccato rhythm on the floor (causing a tsunami in Nevada, which was quite impressive given how far it was from the ocean - he was definitely Top Cat) and glaring at the unimpressive fluffball who stared back at him with a dopey, blank expression. Even Ceiling Cat's fur was perky. It was a disgrace. Proper cats had sleek, dark fur, all the better to slip through the night in search of small things that scurried and squeaked and then - invariably - died. They didn't have soft fur for fingers (and possibly paws) to sink into.

"If you don't go away," he growled, "I will eat you."

"NOM NOM NOM!" said Ceiling Cat gleefully, back to that depressingly relentless cheerfulness. Ceiling Cat then tilted his head to one side, gazing at Basement Cat with guileless blue eyes. Something sparked in the depths of them - with any luck it was his single neuron firing and Ceiling Cat would finally get a clue and go away!

"IZ AN IDEA!"

Oh, cat flaps.

"I GIVES U A HAPPEE!"

Basement Cat was still spluttering, on the verge of spitting with rage - and sparking the odd volcanic eruption in Maryland - when Ceiling Cat closed the last few inches between them, his tail gently waving like a chirpy, happy, fluffy flag in the air. He placed one paw casually but firmly on Basement Cat's shoulder, pinning him to the floor.

He'd forgotten how strong Ceiling Cat was with the weight of the Universe behind him - the parts that Basement Cat's furballs-cum-black-holes weren't busy ripping apart.

Ceiling Cat's nose pressed into his ruff, his whiskers tickling against Basement Cat's, sending little shivers through him. His whiskers also brushed across Basement Cat's nose, which was black as a Cat's should be, not pink and pert like Ceiling Cat's. They were vibrating in time to Ceiling Cat's surprisingly deep purrs and - in spite of himself - Basement Cat felt some of the tension - some of the ever-present rage - leech out of him.

Newly formed mountains in Maryland rumbled and settled.

Ceiling Cat pulled back, still purring, and his nose nuzzled gently into the long hairs curling at the edge of Basement Cat's ears. "There," he said, and perhaps it was his proximity or the slow, rumbling purr that was still shaking his body - and by extension Basement Cat's - but his voice didn't sound quite so loud, quite so piercing now. "I gives u a happee, too."

It took long moments after he'd stepped away for Basement Cat to find his equilibrium again and for his ire to rise and his tail to twitch. And in those long moments, Ceiling Cat stared calmly at him, sparks still firing in those steady blue eyes. But this time they looked like stars swirling, blossoming into life and turning supernovae in the depths of dark pupils. And then Ceiling Cat grinned, sharp white teeth poking out from his lips - not enough to threaten but just enough to remind Basement Cat that he, too, was feline, as old as Basement Cat, or maybe even older.

With a quick flick of a tail that was far fluffier than anything had the right to be, Ceiling Cat turned away and darted up the stairs. Then and only then did Basement Cat find his voice again. "That's right!" he howled. "You'd better run! Come back and I will end you!"

Silvery laughter drifted down to him, shivering on the cusp of another purr.

Basement Cat rolled over again until he faced the small window high up in the wall. Night hadn't fallen yet, and the sun shone through, forming a perfect patch for basking. He stretched out, tail twitching minutely (and a small rain shower hit mid-town New York, without causing chaos) and his face furrowed in a frown. Stupid, crazy Ceiling Cat with his stupid 'happys'. One of these days he'd tear that feeble-minded furball limb from limb and the Universe would end.

But not today. Today was for stretching and scratching and tearing small things apart. Today was for sleeping and basking, and maybe even grooming

And if he left the patch on his ruff alone where Ceiling Cat's nose had pressed (far too) briefly, well. He just didn't want Ceiling Cat Cooties, that was all.

The End






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