Short Story - Injustice: Itty Bitty and Angry About It (Patreon)

I wrote a little short story for a writing group I'm in and I really liked it. It's silly and fun, so I figured I'd share it with you guys! Plus, it's set in Treehollow, so it's extra canon material.

Enjoy!

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"This is CRUEL and UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT, I TELL YA!"

I slammed my paws on the cell door, the sheer force of my anger rattling it on its hinges. The hellish bounds of my confinement loomed around me like the reaching arm of the law.

"I can't believe we've been imprisoned!" I cried, addressing my cell mate. What a lug he was. Big, stupid, with a dumb stupid face. And a little slow on the uptake. Did I mention stupid? Which is probably why he didn't agree with me immediately. "I'm innocent," I added helpfully. That should have gotten the point across, but he only rolled his eyes. So much for teamwork.

With a kick for good measure, I spun away from the door to pace our tiny confines and work on some kind of plan to escape.

"It's getting toward bedtime," my cellmate sighed. "Shouldn't you be settling in for tonight?"

"It's called lights out when you're in jail."

"Ah. ... Right."

"Don't shake your head at me!" It's like he thought I was exaggerating. I have literally never exaggerated anything in my whole life. Couldn't he see the predicament we're in? But no, all he could see was that stupid book he kept putting in front of his stupid face. It's like he didn't even care that we were locked in.

"Right," I grumbled, turning to scale the rickety expanse of lumber to my thin, lumpy, completely uncomfortable cot. As I sat on the insufficient slab of a mattress, I stared out the window at the taunting lights and sounds of the carnival downtown Treehollow. The laughter. The jangling music. The merriment. Did no one understand there was suffering in the world? Like, right here? In prison?

But then, no one understood my suffering. It's like my pain was invisible. Like I was invisible.

... Wait.

That gave me an idea.

I scrambled down from the cot. Stupid McStupidFace twitched an ear at me, eyeing me with undeserved suspicion.

"What are you cackling on about?" he asked.

"Absolutely nothing." Cackling? No. My face was stone cold. I gave nothing away. "And I'm not cackling," I added for emphasis. Because he was stupid, remember?

"Sounds like cackling to me."

"Does not!" Like I said. Stupid.

Anyway.

"Listen. I have a plan," I said, because after a moment it occurred to me I would probably need a partner. Or at least a patsy.

"Not again."

...Okay. Patsy it is.

"Don't worry! It's just a little one." With a flourish, I tugged the crepe-thin sheet from my cot.

"...Do you need help there?"

"No." Ahem.

I said, with a flourish...

I tugged...

...the crepe...

... ... thin ... ...

What is that phrase the grown-ups use? Arse over teakettle? Well, I didn't do that. And I certainly meant to wrap it around myself: that was my whole plan all along.

"As I was saying," I continued, only for my idiot companion to interrupt me.

"Pardon?"

I scrabbled the sheet from my mouth. "AS I WAS SAYING," I continued loudly, "my profound suffering usually goes unnoticed by the general populace, right?"

"...uh..."

"Right," I supplied for him. Sometimes you have to lead him around by the nose, I swear.

"...Right."

"Right. So, it stands to reason that if I embody my suffering, then I'll become invisible."

"Er."

"So since I feel like a ghost all locked up and alone," I continued, "then I'll wrap myself up in this sheet and become a ghost. And thus invisible!"

"I... I don't think that's how that..."

"It's brilliant! Tell me it's brilliant!" When he didn't oblige, I had to pause to take a deep breath. The idiocy I had to deal with on a near daily basis. "Really, it's very simple. All I have to do is climb out the window, wrap myself in the sheet, and I'll be able to make it to the carnival!"

For once, my cellmate was silent. I took that as wholehearted awe and approval, which, you know, makes sense, because my plan truly was brilliant. It had everything: daring, metaphor, existential angst... The best parts of any plan! Of course he approved of it.

So, under his extremely approving gaze, I bundled the sheet around me and headed for the window.

As you well know, our cell is a good twelve meters off the ground. But lucky for me, I am a cat, and therefore an expert at climbing. Of course, before I could stretch my climbing skills, I had to get the window open. Any cell worth its salt keeps a tight lock on all entrances and exits, but this cell is not worth salt at all. I don't think it's even worth pepper.

It didn't take long. Just a little finagling with a plastic screwdriver I kept hidden on my person at all times. So after jimmying the frankly substandard latch, I flung the window open and got ready to escape. Up on the sill, I crouched, looking at the dark lawn, far below. This would be a piece of cake. A piece of cake I would most certainly acquire at the carnival.

With a steel will, I breathed deep, and began my descent.

Unfortunately, there were...

I guess you could call them complications.

Namely: the stupid sheet got caught on the stupid window.

And in so doing, my own paws slipped and I found myself precariously dangling. Curses! I still had another six meters to go! I had to get myself out of this predicament before...

"Piper?"

I froze. The muffled call of the Warden was followed by the soft rap of knuckles on the cell door. I was trapped. What could I do? I flailed, trying to get new pawholds, trying to retreat or fall or something! Anything! But the sound of the door unlatching told me it was fast approaching too late.

"Piper?"

"She's climbed out the window," I heard my cellmate say. My heart broke. Just shattered. How could my best friend, my partner in crime, the creature whom I held in highest esteem, just BETRAY me like that?! I was flabbergasted. Wounded, I daresay!

In a furious thunder of pawsteps, the Warden shouted, "PIPER!" from the window.

"There's no one here by that name!" I cried, in a truly brilliant last-ditch effort to avoid the inevitable. Alas, the Warden was crafty. It did not work.

Instead, I was hauled, paw over paw, back up into that dreaded, desolate cell. The Warden was angry. But then, the Warden was always angry.

"What do you think you were doing?!" she cried, paws on her formidable hips.

"Going to the carnival!" I shouted. "It's CRUEL and UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT, it is, keeping kittens from a carnival!"

The Warden did not look pleased. "Piper, we were at the carnival for four hours today," she lied, blatantly. The scoundrel! (And plus, would I be trying to escape if we had been there already? ... Don't answer that.) She started unraveling me from my cocoon of white cotton and inner pain.

"Now, get your tail into bed before I ground you! It's bedtime."

"But my sheet's all dirty! I can't sleep in these conditions!"

"Then you should have thought of that before you flung it out the window." The Warden exercised her incredible strength and lifted me — me! — off the ground to put me in that unwelcoming cot. I mean, who needs that many pillows?

Soon she had arrested me entirely, tucked me away in bed. The Warden was even so bold as to kiss me. Was there no mercy in this world? But at last she left, the cell door open wide. Tempting though that was, I knew it was a trap. I had to stay, or the Warden would yell at me again.

And so I find myself here, now, telling my story to you, Popo. I hope you've learned a valuable lesson. The injustice of the world is suffocating. I fear I will die here in this miserable cell.

"You do know we're going back to the carnival in the morning, right?"

Did you hear anything Popo? Because I didn't. I definitely didn't hear my stupid turncoat of a brother acting like this isn't the most unfairest thing in the world, Anthony.

"Piper, I'm trying to sleep. Can please you stop talking to your bear?"

What did I say, Popo?

Injustice.