Wednesday, August 17, 2005

   Gone with the Post
Mornin' to ye, stranger! I'm Flint Marco, an' I'm the law 'round these parts. Today's Wednsday, and I'm pretty happy about it.

Yep, how's your day going? Me, I'm off of work today, so I'm happy. No work equals one content Flint.

Okay, let's get on with some serious stuff. Lo, the majestic kitty cat. Through centuries, kitties have been loved by mankind, warming the hearts of phaorohs, mob bosses, and most recently, Flint Marco.

But, the life of the kitty is not all sunshine and lollipops. In fact, a kitty's life is fraught with pain and bloodshed. Many kitties fight every day for survival. This is one kitty's story.

JACK CLAWS: A LIFE IN KITTY-WARFARE

During the late 1940's, America was sending her boys to other countries to fight in the second Great War. There, brave men fought for the freedoms won by their forefathers, against a great evil threatening to dominate the Western Hemisphere.

Here in America, however, another great war was brewing. A sinister group of Cats, led by one Baron Kel DeKitty, was gathering their forces for a great undertaking. The Cat Continuom, as they came to be known as, wanted one thing, and one thing only: the union of all cats into one entity, which they simply called, "The Great Cat". When "the Great Cat" was forged, the entity was prophesized to sweep through the lands that men dominated, and take them back for cats.

There were others, however, who opposed these evil cats. Kitties who wished to keep the order of the Earth in check. They sure as Hell didn't want any Cat-God messing up the peace that had been forged through centuries of communication between man and cat. These cats, calling themselves The Allies, took up arms against the Cat Continuom, and civil war between cats was waged.

They fought in the streets, in the sewers, in fields, on hot tin roofs. Countless cats fell to their former brothers. The streets were filled with the shredded bodies of brave cats. Humans were curious as to why all these cats dies so suddenly, but, as they always do, they found an excuse in current society, blaming it on motor vehicles.

Point Lorend, or "the Point" as it came to be known as, was the roughest port town in Maryland. The docks were filled with barges and smuggler ships carrying contraband to aid the cat Allies in the war effort. The cats unfortunate enough to call the Point "home" fought everyday for survival. Between a crippling Mob rule, a government system corrupt beyond all repair, and the Cat Continuom at the gates, it certainly wasn't easy.

"The Iron Saucer" was the seediest bar in the Point, and considering what kind of place the Point was, that's saying quite a lot. Only the toughest, most hardened cats dared to enter the doors. The Saucer was known as a haven for gangsters, criminals, and loose-moraled females.

The Saucer was full of cats that night. A group of thugs were yuking it up in the corner, chatting about stealing nip and cat pornography. A few Wisecats were sitting on stools in front of the counter, quiet as stone. A female cat was dancing on a table, obviously drunk. A group of cat sailors were cheering her on.

He entered like a hurricane. The bar grew silent. Even the thugs stopped yelling long enough to take notice. Jack Claws had a scowl on his face that could frighten Death itself. He walked to a corner table, pulled up a chair, slammed his boots on the table, and grinned.

"Barkeep," Jack growled, "Bring me the usual."

The barkeep stared at Jack, and quaked like he was looking at a ghost. "C-C-Comin' right up, Jack, sir." he said.

Jack looked about the bar. All eyes were on him. Jack could taste the fear the bar exsumed from his presence. He sneered. "Is there something on my face?!" he yelled.

Nobody answered.

"Then take yer eyes offa me!" he said.

The patrons quickly looked away from Jack, and resumed their activities.

Jack Claws had a reputation in the Point. He was a proffesional criminal by trade, taking any job that paid high. Jack did it all: Theft, extorsion, hijacking, random terrorism, even murder. Outside of his work, Jack was known as a violent drunk, a horrible womanizer, and an all-around dirtbag. The bar patrons' fear of him was well justified.

The waitress hesitated before taking Jack's drink to him. Jack eyed her the whole way. His horrible green eyes peirced her soul like hellfire. Her hand shook as she handed him his drink.

"Here you are, sir..." the waitress said.

Jack's eyes gleamed. He grinned, bearing his frighteningly sharp fangs. "What's your name, cutie?" Jack said.

"...Jessie." the waitress said.

"Well, then... Jessie... here's a tip." Jack said.

Jack handed her a piece of dried fish. The waitress smiled faintly, and turned to walk away. Jack quickly spanked her, causing her to jump up. She almost ran back to counter, were the barkeep was ready to console her. Jack let out a hearty laugh. He looked to the moon, and drank from his bottle, enjoying the night as he usually did.

Miles from the gates of the Point, an army of tank wagons was mobilized. A legion of faceless cats in tin armor stood at attention. A cat with a curly moustache looked over them. He then marched toward a cat in a mobile throne. The cat in the thrown was covered in darkness, almost invisible in the night.

"Emperor DeKitty," the moustache cat said, "The troops are ready. We can take the Point by sundown tommorow."

DeKitty slouched in his thrown, making himself even less visible. He chuckled, and grinned.

"Perfect." Emperor DeKitty said. "Tell the troops to rest. The invasion begins tomorrow morning as sunrise."

END PART 1
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....Sure, Flint does dumb posts, but sometimes, he just feels like writing!

See ya later, I guess.

-Flint
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