- Jul 24, 2022
- 7
- 0
- 1
Amber ears perked up at news from the periphery. A battle of some kind - injuries on all sides. A schism caused by something unclear, and now all parties involved had gone their separate ways. Obviously, someone would have to educate these barbarians.
In his particular stretch of twolegplaces, Flanders was known as a moral prescriptivist (though others would use much more colorful language when giving a description). Although the amber tomcat was forbidden from going outside (and such a staunch follower of authority wouldn’t dare to break the rules!) it didn’t stop him from lecturing all who passed by. Playing near those rocks was dangerous! Don’t jump like that, your form is off! Those berries aren’t for eating!
However, by far the lanky tom’s most talked about topic was his abhorrence of violence. Any new kittypets were quickly warned not to even hunt butterflies near his house, lest the buzzkill go ballistic. So obviously when word filtered down from a game of feline telephone that there had been a major scuffle among the wild cats, Flanders decided it was his duty to set them straight.
Of course, setting foot outside the fence for the first time made the straight-laced cat more than a bit uneasy, but the boy deemed it necessary. After all, it was worth breaking one little rule if it meant stopping those savages from killing each other! The plan was simple: Flanders would find them, settle down for a few days, and teach them the ways of civilized life before heading home. It was a bit strange seeing his neighbors up close for the first time (and for some reason quite a few weren’t eager to talk to him) but soon enough the boy had directions.
It wasn’t a long trek to the plains, but the few hours gave the amber-hued cat time enough to rattle off a whole list of preprepared speeches in preparation. He had moons of experience telling off rowdy kittypets under his belt after all, how hard could this be?
After reaching the edge of what was apparently the savages’ stomping ground, Flanders sat pursued his favorite pastime: fussing over the details. The tomcat’s tongue must of run the length of his fur three times over trying to smooth it, and by the end he might as well have been reflective. Still, the serious cat refused to feel embarrassment. This was an important mission, after all! All he had to do now was wait.
In his particular stretch of twolegplaces, Flanders was known as a moral prescriptivist (though others would use much more colorful language when giving a description). Although the amber tomcat was forbidden from going outside (and such a staunch follower of authority wouldn’t dare to break the rules!) it didn’t stop him from lecturing all who passed by. Playing near those rocks was dangerous! Don’t jump like that, your form is off! Those berries aren’t for eating!
However, by far the lanky tom’s most talked about topic was his abhorrence of violence. Any new kittypets were quickly warned not to even hunt butterflies near his house, lest the buzzkill go ballistic. So obviously when word filtered down from a game of feline telephone that there had been a major scuffle among the wild cats, Flanders decided it was his duty to set them straight.
Of course, setting foot outside the fence for the first time made the straight-laced cat more than a bit uneasy, but the boy deemed it necessary. After all, it was worth breaking one little rule if it meant stopping those savages from killing each other! The plan was simple: Flanders would find them, settle down for a few days, and teach them the ways of civilized life before heading home. It was a bit strange seeing his neighbors up close for the first time (and for some reason quite a few weren’t eager to talk to him) but soon enough the boy had directions.
It wasn’t a long trek to the plains, but the few hours gave the amber-hued cat time enough to rattle off a whole list of preprepared speeches in preparation. He had moons of experience telling off rowdy kittypets under his belt after all, how hard could this be?
After reaching the edge of what was apparently the savages’ stomping ground, Flanders sat pursued his favorite pastime: fussing over the details. The tomcat’s tongue must of run the length of his fur three times over trying to smooth it, and by the end he might as well have been reflective. Still, the serious cat refused to feel embarrassment. This was an important mission, after all! All he had to do now was wait.
