An Imaginary Story (With Matte Stephens Illustrations)

I was bored, so I thought I'd used these beautiful illustrations (all from his etsy shop, but check out his blog too) to make up a little silly story. DON'T JUDGE ME!

It was fall, and I was in the city. THE city. No one would notice me there. I had some trouble with some fat cats, you know, and I had to lay low for awhile.

I walked around with my bird, smoking my pipe and looking all dapper. My bird would say "chirp chirp" and I would agree. I strolled along with my cane and nodded at the families in the park as I strolled. Just all laid back like. But then I saw them, and they saw me!

Those are the ones! That family of cats would ruin everything for me. Maybe it wasn't them, maybe there was just something brewing that night to get me into this mess, maybe it's the BLASTED city, I don't know. But it was something. And it was real. Oh boy, it was real.

On the other side of town, THIS town, people were talking and stirring and muttering and rambling. The excitement of the evening was in everyone's bones, like they knew it was to be the night of my downfall! They knew all right! Look at them canoodling with that cat with his sly smirk on his puss, probably badmouthing my moustache they are! 

So there we are, me and the family of cats, next to the seals in the park. There's some others there too, but they're really not important to the story. Maybe some call them "witnesses", but not me! "Accomplices" maybe, "Annoyances" definitely... but witnesses most certainly not.

Look at him! He can't even see the seal right in front of him balancing a ball AND an umbrella (he either has his eyes closed or is looking at a fish, I need to adjust my monocle to discern for certain).

So, right. It was me and the family of cats, by the seals in the park. Me and my bird were chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool, watching some seals right next to the pool. When a couple of cats (they were up to no good!) starting making trouble in the neighbourhood. 

That's when that shady little tabby cat took a swipe at my feathered companion, and he got him! By jove, he got him! With one fell swoop, my twittering friend was gone and I would no longer be able to enjoy his incessant tweets.

 Boy, I was sad... like real sad. So I got in my car. I just had to drive around looking for answers, some sort of explanation to this INJUSTICE. So I put on some Pink Floyd and just really listened to it, you know? I can't believe he was gone, the little bird that sat on my shoulder. Shine on, you crazy diamond. Wish you were here. It all made sense.

I ended up down at the docks, looking over the city, where all mourning loners end up. The dregs of society, and I was joining their ranks. I knew it was a slippery slope before I ended up on skid row, and brother, that is not a place a dapper fellow like myself is destined for. That's just not my style. I can't be strutting down by the docks holding my radio listening to the tunes cranked with my big crack eyes glaring. Like that guy...

 No sir, I won't join this fellow. I can get out of this mess, surely I can! 

So I got back into my car with the radio turned OFF, to be aware of my surroundings, my thoughts my very own breath. I was on a mission. I would strike while the iron was hot and my blood was cold with revenge but also boiling with a very intense and specific rage. It makes the temperature of the story seem a little luke warm, but it was red hot... and also icy cold. It was that strange of a night.

I ended up outside the home of the family of cats. They were sitting there, like ducks. I didn't think, I just ACTED. I took out my slingshot and looked into their strange soulful eyes one by one as I pegged them off. Poof! Piff! Splat! Plunk! Each between the eyes until their eyes were only X's. The only one to remain was that tabby and his crooked bow tie! He deserved it most of all. I closed my eyes and released the rubber band......

 I never did see the grenade he had in his hand. I didn't feel anything, I just sort of  went I suppose. These kind birds above came to my funeral, which was a quiet, solemn sort of affair. The speech my rascal brother gave was absurd and rude, and there were too many ugly people there. The canapes were nice.

So that, dear readers, is the story of how I, Mr. Curiosity, killed the cats. 

(The portrait above is of us from the year before when they were having a sale on portraits in the mall. I bet that's when the family of cats got there portrait on the couch done too. It was such a good sale. The mall in Sheffield.)

The End

Note: the lovely gentleman in the story is actually called Sir Melvin Habadasher which is a very nice name indeed. You can look at him and even BUY him here