*Reposted from Writer and Cat*
We have a new cattification today, which is a two parter since I'm posting the excerpt here this time. First, though, let's check out the deliciously felined cover and blurb for the human romance novel, Light My Fire, by Jodi Redford. It involves something about twin males who can change into dragons and who decide to, repeatedly, attempt to make kittens with some lady. I don't know. Humans are weird. I can see why my Typing Slave wants me to fix this stuff.
As purr usual, we recommend you check out the original before proceeding with the cattification!
Light My Laserpointer by Jodi Redfurr
Original is Light My Fire: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/light-fire-p-5939.html
Aslan Furrytuna’s orders are clear: Find the woman, claim her as a human servant—and share her with his dumb-as-dog, white-furred littermate. Distasteful as it is, the Kittykoni council insists the ancient custom be honored. Or Aslan will be banished....to a house with dogs in it.
One glance at Dana Colourpoint, and Aslan is thrown into the kitty version of a tailspin. (Not to be confused with a kitty tail clothespin, something you should NEVER EVER DO.) Claim her? Heck, yes, he’ll claim her. Not only does she have opposable thumbs, but she tends to sit still for long periods of time and fiddle around with laserpointers! Problem is, she has no idea her father signed her up to foster pooches, from birth. As in, puppies. As in, poop and pee and whining everywhere. (Which does explain why the dog-fostering people keep showing up with baskets of the annoying things, but nobody ever said Dana was quick.)
Dana has fostered enough peek-a-poodles to fill an insane asylum. Two gorgeous kitties hanging around her back porch, staring in the windows, meowing and claiming to be her owners? Par for the course. Until they give her a tantalizing glimpse of their inner beasts, which makes her think she’s the one headed for a padded cell—for actually considering their demand that she no longer foster dogs but instead serve kitties, for life.
Her resistance melts away under the onslaught of two kitties who shed enough fur to coat all the couches in a six-block radius. Especially when she realizes most of her clothes match Aslan's pelt. But with a town full of dog lovers and a Nemesis Stray lurking in the shadows, surviving a week of Aslan and Jace’s double-teaming, stairs-galloping, catpan-scratching, laserpointer-leaping, bed-hogging will be the least of her problems…
Warning: Contains two sheddin' on the beddin' kitties and their not-so-unwilling human convert. A few collar malfunctions and inappropriate use of kitty treats, as in, Dana locked them in the drawer before Aslan and Jace were finished gnoshing. You might want to have your local pound on speed dial in case any dogs show up during the reading of this book.
I shall be posting the cattified excerpt here in a trice. If you'd like to line up for a cattification of your own, just contact my human. She's better with the emails than I am, what with her opposable thumbs and tendency to sit still for long periods of time, qualities in a two-legger we cats clearly appreciate.
Sincerely,
Meankitty & Jody W.
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com
PS: The gorgeous feline models on our cover are Sam (black) and Sassi (white) from Meankitty.com. Sam doesn't have a Gallery page at Meankitty since he isn't actually MEAN, but Sassi is at: http://meankitty.com/2012/04/sassi/
Excerpt
... original excerpt at the Samhain Publishing site: http://store.samhainpublishing.com/light-fire-p-5939.html
***Note 1: There is some mild kitty profanity in the following excerpt.
***
“Take your precious contract and shove it up your dog’s butt.”
His tail lashing, Aslan Furrytuna pounced on the fat sheaf of papers, running in place until all of the paper skidded toward the middle of the massive mahogany table where he was currently sequestered with fifteen members of the Kittykoni council. The papers twirled across the slick surface, drawing intense stares from Aslan’s colleagues. It was all they could do not to leap onto the table and sit upon each piece of paper, for sitting on a piece of paper is infinitely preferable to sitting on plain wood. Truthfully, colleague wasn’t the preferred term Aslan would use for any of these old farts.
“You will fulfill its terms.” Thomas Kittit shifted in his seat, his considerable bulk prompting a floof from the leather-upholstered cushion. A trace of fire shimmered in his cold blue eyes. Obviously he saw no need for his temper to spiral out of control. As head meower for the council, Thomas expected his demand to be met.
Too bad he didn’t know who the hiss he was dealing with.
Aslan surged to his strong black paws, crowding over Kittit. Stabbing the table with enough force to scratch the surface, he granted Thomas a ferocious scowl out of eyes he knew were the brilliant yellow of plain mustard, not that murky beige, spicy mustard mess. “I’d like to see the army of strays you intend on using to carry out your request.”
“It’s not a request, dog-boy.” Kittit shoveled a butter-covered, pill-sized dose of venomous hostility on the last mrow.
Thick silence descended on the room. The other council members watched intently, waiting for Aslan’s reaction to Thomas’s verbal gauntlet. He had no intention of satisfying their thirst for a cat fight. Kittit’s antagonism was nothing new. The cat had made it clear from the start he objected to Aslan being named Supreme Alpha-Hairball of the clan. Though Thomas argued that a three-year-old didn’t have the maturity to fulfill the role of leader, Aslan suspected the real reason Kittit’s fur was in a twist was because the cat had been jockeying for his son to achieve the rank of top cat. Or in this case, top meankitty.
Uncovered-effing-poo for him.
“You would break almost nine lives of tradition? What else do you plan to arch your back at in the name of selfishness?” Ripe contempt underscoring Thomas’s question, he kicked his back leg toward the massive bookcases lining the far wall. “Next you’ll suggest we hold a giant bonfire and toss the sacred Kittykoni texts in for kindling.”
Growls of dissent rumbled around Aslan, provoking an answering growl into escaping his throat. “You know well I have no intention of doing any such thing. But I see no point for this ridiculous mission. I’m fine where I am, living with my parents and their staff.”
“If you don’t do as told, you leave us no choice but to enforce the banishment doctrine. You’ll be named STRAY.” Kittit leaned forward, his flattish, Persian features practically glowing with triumphant glee. “Go ahead and take your walk of shame while wearing a cone-collar and limping from the ministrations of the Evil Vet. I certainly won’t stop you.”
The heavy thump of a cat landing on the table preceded a paw swatting Aslan’s shoulder. Cherry pipe smoke—his father’s human staffer’s personal vice—drifted to Aslan. Turning, he met the regret in Liam Furrytuna’s expression.
“Thomas is right. It’s your duty to carry out the contract.”
Sharp betrayal knifed through Aslan. His father’s claws pricked his skin, an attempt to enforce the seriousness of his words.
“I don’t say this to hurt you. But we must uphold the legacy of the Kittykoni. Already too many have forgotten the ways of our kind. We’ve got cats living on the streets, going feral, tolerating dogs... It’s chaos all around.”
Aslan struggled to corral his frustration. “It’s called evolution. Not necessarily a bad thing.”
A cough heavy with incipient hairball chuffed from Kittit. “What you call evolution I call demoralization.” He too jumped on the tabletop, sending a shudder through the ancient wood. Kittit was one fat cat. “Humans used to squee at the sight of a Kittykoni, and take us home and feed us all the fish we wanted. Now they taunt us by portraying our kind on Internet meme blogs. Cheezburgers and invisible biking all the time, for all that’s unholy!”
Aslan rolled his eyes. “By Lion, you’re right. LOLCats is a conspiracy cooked up by humans to bring us sobbing to our bellies in shame. I wonder how the devil they discovered our secret love affair with bad spelling?” Jaguarsus, but Kittit’s idiotic paranoia and obsession with that one spot under the fridge was exhausting at times.
“You are out of line, dog-boy.”
“And you are an asshat.”
He and Kittit exchanged fierce glares, neither willing to blink and award the other an edge. The staring contest was on. The soft click of his mother’s claws tapped a warning on the floor as she approached the gathering. Still he kept his focus centered on Kittit.
“Aslan, please be reasonable. Now is not the time to ruffle the fur of the council.”
Thomas broke eye contact first--YES!!!--and twitched his whiskers at Maggie Furrytuna. Aslan burned with the desire to swat the smarmy look off the other cat’s smushed-in face.
“Listen to your mama, dog-boy. She’ll steer you well.”
Aslan glanced at his mother and took in her beseeching expression, her pupils as big and round as a Precious Moments figurine. Her paw lifted and batted at the silver cat claw suspended from a delicate chain around a random cat scratcher in the middle of the table. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the cat scratcher before, but it was clearly a custom job, since the claw was the insignia of the Kittykoni. As a direct, pure blood descendent of Lucius, first of the mighty cats, Maggie Furrytuna was the closest thing to royalty the clan possessed. The others revered her and in return, she did not take her responsibility to them lightly. As her son, Aslan was expected to dewclaw the same line. Even when everything inside him roared, lionlike, at the injustice of being caged inside a cat carrier with an antiquated tradition.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” He bit the agreement out woodenly.
“Good.” Kittit didn’t disguise the triumph in his loud, Siamese-like voice. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking a red eye for you both. You’ll be leaving for Michigan early tomorrow morning.”
Presumptuous son of a bitch. Flicking his whiskers, Aslan spun from the table. He took three bounds before Kittit’s statement fully registered with a resounding yowl in his consciousness. Apprehension slithering along his spine, he stalled.
“You will fulfill its terms.” Thomas Kittit shifted in his seat, his considerable bulk prompting a floof from the leather-upholstered cushion. A trace of fire shimmered in his cold blue eyes. Obviously he saw no need for his temper to spiral out of control. As head meower for the council, Thomas expected his demand to be met.
Too bad he didn’t know who the hiss he was dealing with.
Aslan surged to his strong black paws, crowding over Kittit. Stabbing the table with enough force to scratch the surface, he granted Thomas a ferocious scowl out of eyes he knew were the brilliant yellow of plain mustard, not that murky beige, spicy mustard mess. “I’d like to see the army of strays you intend on using to carry out your request.”
“It’s not a request, dog-boy.” Kittit shoveled a butter-covered, pill-sized dose of venomous hostility on the last mrow.
Thick silence descended on the room. The other council members watched intently, waiting for Aslan’s reaction to Thomas’s verbal gauntlet. He had no intention of satisfying their thirst for a cat fight. Kittit’s antagonism was nothing new. The cat had made it clear from the start he objected to Aslan being named Supreme Alpha-Hairball of the clan. Though Thomas argued that a three-year-old didn’t have the maturity to fulfill the role of leader, Aslan suspected the real reason Kittit’s fur was in a twist was because the cat had been jockeying for his son to achieve the rank of top cat. Or in this case, top meankitty.
Uncovered-effing-poo for him.
“You would break almost nine lives of tradition? What else do you plan to arch your back at in the name of selfishness?” Ripe contempt underscoring Thomas’s question, he kicked his back leg toward the massive bookcases lining the far wall. “Next you’ll suggest we hold a giant bonfire and toss the sacred Kittykoni texts in for kindling.”
Growls of dissent rumbled around Aslan, provoking an answering growl into escaping his throat. “You know well I have no intention of doing any such thing. But I see no point for this ridiculous mission. I’m fine where I am, living with my parents and their staff.”
“If you don’t do as told, you leave us no choice but to enforce the banishment doctrine. You’ll be named STRAY.” Kittit leaned forward, his flattish, Persian features practically glowing with triumphant glee. “Go ahead and take your walk of shame while wearing a cone-collar and limping from the ministrations of the Evil Vet. I certainly won’t stop you.”
The heavy thump of a cat landing on the table preceded a paw swatting Aslan’s shoulder. Cherry pipe smoke—his father’s human staffer’s personal vice—drifted to Aslan. Turning, he met the regret in Liam Furrytuna’s expression.
“Thomas is right. It’s your duty to carry out the contract.”
Sharp betrayal knifed through Aslan. His father’s claws pricked his skin, an attempt to enforce the seriousness of his words.
“I don’t say this to hurt you. But we must uphold the legacy of the Kittykoni. Already too many have forgotten the ways of our kind. We’ve got cats living on the streets, going feral, tolerating dogs... It’s chaos all around.”
Aslan struggled to corral his frustration. “It’s called evolution. Not necessarily a bad thing.”
A cough heavy with incipient hairball chuffed from Kittit. “What you call evolution I call demoralization.” He too jumped on the tabletop, sending a shudder through the ancient wood. Kittit was one fat cat. “Humans used to squee at the sight of a Kittykoni, and take us home and feed us all the fish we wanted. Now they taunt us by portraying our kind on Internet meme blogs. Cheezburgers and invisible biking all the time, for all that’s unholy!”
Aslan rolled his eyes. “By Lion, you’re right. LOLCats is a conspiracy cooked up by humans to bring us sobbing to our bellies in shame. I wonder how the devil they discovered our secret love affair with bad spelling?” Jaguarsus, but Kittit’s idiotic paranoia and obsession with that one spot under the fridge was exhausting at times.
“You are out of line, dog-boy.”
“And you are an asshat.”
He and Kittit exchanged fierce glares, neither willing to blink and award the other an edge. The staring contest was on. The soft click of his mother’s claws tapped a warning on the floor as she approached the gathering. Still he kept his focus centered on Kittit.
“Aslan, please be reasonable. Now is not the time to ruffle the fur of the council.”
Thomas broke eye contact first--YES!!!--and twitched his whiskers at Maggie Furrytuna. Aslan burned with the desire to swat the smarmy look off the other cat’s smushed-in face.
“Listen to your mama, dog-boy. She’ll steer you well.”
Aslan glanced at his mother and took in her beseeching expression, her pupils as big and round as a Precious Moments figurine. Her paw lifted and batted at the silver cat claw suspended from a delicate chain around a random cat scratcher in the middle of the table. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the cat scratcher before, but it was clearly a custom job, since the claw was the insignia of the Kittykoni. As a direct, pure blood descendent of Lucius, first of the mighty cats, Maggie Furrytuna was the closest thing to royalty the clan possessed. The others revered her and in return, she did not take her responsibility to them lightly. As her son, Aslan was expected to dewclaw the same line. Even when everything inside him roared, lionlike, at the injustice of being caged inside a cat carrier with an antiquated tradition.
“Fine, I’ll do it.” He bit the agreement out woodenly.
“Good.” Kittit didn’t disguise the triumph in his loud, Siamese-like voice. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking a red eye for you both. You’ll be leaving for Michigan early tomorrow morning.”
Presumptuous son of a bitch. Flicking his whiskers, Aslan spun from the table. He took three bounds before Kittit’s statement fully registered with a resounding yowl in his consciousness. Apprehension slithering along his spine, he stalled.
“Both?” Slowly, he turned.
A satisfied smirk revealed Kittit’s front fangs. “Surely you didn’t think you’d be the only one fulfilling the contract, given your special circumstances?”
With some doing, Aslan kept his pupils normal. “Of course not.” He pivoted and stalked the remaining distance to the large double doors leading from the council chambers. There he clawed at them repeatedly, meowing, until one of the human staffers waiting in the shadows opened the door. In the hall, he scratched the door again, returning to the council chambers, repeating the scratch-demand three more times before he had relieved his aggressive feelings.
A satisfied smirk revealed Kittit’s front fangs. “Surely you didn’t think you’d be the only one fulfilling the contract, given your special circumstances?”
With some doing, Aslan kept his pupils normal. “Of course not.” He pivoted and stalked the remaining distance to the large double doors leading from the council chambers. There he clawed at them repeatedly, meowing, until one of the human staffers waiting in the shadows opened the door. In the hall, he scratched the door again, returning to the council chambers, repeating the scratch-demand three more times before he had relieved his aggressive feelings.
Once he finished door-scratching, he buckled to the fury boiling inside him and tore into a vase of flowers like a feline hurricane. Petals flew. Glass shattered. Shaking pollen from his fur, he strutted to the front entrance of the Seattle-based Kittykoni cat house. (Not to be confused with human cat houses, naturally.) He stepped outside, his focus immediately riveting on the monster dually pickup straddling two parking spots in the rear of the lot.
At least he wouldn’t have to go looking for Jace. That was the Furrytuna human staffer’s truck, since he and Jace hadn’t yet bothered to find their own humans. Which, Aslan realized, had resulted in this stupid mission.
Angry hisses funneling from his mouth, Aslan stalked toward the truck, the silent pad of his paws providing his littermate zero warning that he was five seconds away from getting his furry ass whupped.
Aslan leapt onto the hood and spied Laurie Kittit sprawled across the bench seat in a sun spot, her tight, well-groomed fur shining on her sleek body. Jace, Aslan’s littermate, was licking Laurie’s ears as they enjoyed the warmth together. If the delirious purr coming from Laurie was any indication, the sunspot was a good one. A really good one.
“Oh Meow! You’ve almost got that itch. Don’t you dare stop.” Still purring, Laurie dug her claws into the truck’s black leather seat, ripping it as she kneaded.
Aslan slammed his body onto the windshield, howling like a banshee. Laurie jerked her eyes open and shrieked when she spotted him. His disinterested glance skipped over her fluffled tail.
At least he wouldn’t have to go looking for Jace. That was the Furrytuna human staffer’s truck, since he and Jace hadn’t yet bothered to find their own humans. Which, Aslan realized, had resulted in this stupid mission.
Angry hisses funneling from his mouth, Aslan stalked toward the truck, the silent pad of his paws providing his littermate zero warning that he was five seconds away from getting his furry ass whupped.
Aslan leapt onto the hood and spied Laurie Kittit sprawled across the bench seat in a sun spot, her tight, well-groomed fur shining on her sleek body. Jace, Aslan’s littermate, was licking Laurie’s ears as they enjoyed the warmth together. If the delirious purr coming from Laurie was any indication, the sunspot was a good one. A really good one.
“Oh Meow! You’ve almost got that itch. Don’t you dare stop.” Still purring, Laurie dug her claws into the truck’s black leather seat, ripping it as she kneaded.
Aslan slammed his body onto the windshield, howling like a banshee. Laurie jerked her eyes open and shrieked when she spotted him. His disinterested glance skipped over her fluffled tail.
“Sorry to break up the party.” He wasn’t. Not by a long shot. If Kittit discovered his daughter was getting her ears licked by Jace during her mouse break, a cat-pan-crap-storm would erupt. Aslan didn’t have the patience or the time to deal with it. “I need to speak to my littermate. Now.”
A pitiful mew filtering from Jace, he scooted onto his haunches. He licked his white paw one last time, his narrowed pupils glinting with annoyance. “This better be hairball important.”
“We’re leaving for Michigan in the morning.”
Jace blinked. “Wait, you mean…?”
“Yeah.” Aslan pushed the remaining words through clenched fangs. “We’re sharing the new human servant.”
A pitiful mew filtering from Jace, he scooted onto his haunches. He licked his white paw one last time, his narrowed pupils glinting with annoyance. “This better be hairball important.”
“We’re leaving for Michigan in the morning.”
Jace blinked. “Wait, you mean…?”
“Yeah.” Aslan pushed the remaining words through clenched fangs. “We’re sharing the new human servant.”
***
I know! So much better, right?? No cold, scaly, weird dragon things, no kitten-making, no glorification of the two-legged form. Cats, cats and more cats.
(Speaking of Cats, Cats, Cats, this is a good kids' book: http://www.amazon.com/Cats-Lesl%C3%A9a-Newman/dp/0689866976/
I hope you have all enjoyed today's double post. Check back soon to see what happens next! (Not between Aslan and Jace, though that does rouse some curiosity, but on the blog.)
Sincerely,
Meankitty & Jody W.
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com
1 comment:
holy cat nip this couldn't get any hotter if it tryed lol
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