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indeedsir_backup2009-04-12 09:40 pm
kestrelskies.livejournal.com) wrote in indeedsir_backup2009-04-12 09:40 pm
Jeeves and the Feline Phenomenon 1/3
What ho. *waves*
I'm a long time lurker very nervously posting a first fic, which is AU, and sort of silly... you have been warned.
Title: Jeeves and the Feline Phenomenon
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Me? I don't own nothing.
Words:1437
Bertie was strolling down High street, whistling a merry tune, feeling as spiffy as a brass button who'd just been shined, when he heard a voice that made his blood run screaming for the exit.
“Bertie!”
Bertie cringed. Normally, of course, one wouldn't startle in horror every time one heard one's own name, and not just because you'd end up hopping up and down every time you entered the Drones. But this voice was different. It spoke of sugar confectionery, and of unnaturally bright flowers gazing at you with goopy eyes, if flowers could have eyes, of course. It was the voice of Madeline Basset.
“Bertie!” sung the voice, and it was louder. The horror was encroaching.
Bertie looked wildly around and made a dash for it between two fruit-carts, but his foot caught on a wheel and he found himself making acquaintance with two ants crawling along the pavement, and a pair of black, elegantly pointed shoes.
“Oh, Bertie, how silly you are!” Madeline grasped his arm. “I think you are so noble for trying to conceal your love, but Bertie, your struggles are in vain.”
“Ish they,” Bertie said, unpeeling himself from the cement. “Well, sorry old thing, lovely to see you, I'll just be toodling along -”
Madeline gave a tinkling little laugh and gripped his arm harder. “Don't be silly, Bertie. There's something I want to show you. Come with me.”
Bertie found himself lurching along beside her, trapped in a surprisingly strong grip. He supposed some girls were like limpets – they looked squishy and innocent enough, but could cling on like steel when they chose.
“Nearly there,” said Madeline. “Oh, Bertie, look!”
“What?” said Bertie. “Oh yes, jolly nice alley. Very... Very bricky.Now, Madeline, I really -”
“I've always thought that kittens are as fresh and as innocent as the morning dew,” she sighed, clasping her hands together.
“Eh?” Bertie's eyes picked out from the murky grey alley wall, a murky grey old woman holding a basket from which peered some scrawny looking creatures that just might have been kittens. The woman-or thing-leered at them, exposing not so much of a toothy grin as the absence of it.
“You like kittens, m'dears?” croaked the thing.
“Oh, rather,” Bertie said faintly. He wished Jeeves were here, then realised that the old feudal spirit would have nightmares for weeks at the state of the woman's clothing. “Yes, can't get enough of them.”
“I didn't know you had cats, Bertie! Why, I always knew we were soul mates.”
“Oh, no,” Bertie said hurriedly. “No, no no no. No. Never had any. Well. I did have a few, at one point, but they escaped. Twenty three, all in in my bedroom. Or was it twenty four? But they just dashed up and left. Strange, that.”
Madeline let out a small yelp, which put him in mind of those tiny yippy white ladies dogs who nipped your ankles when you weren't watching. “Bertie! You weren't cruel to them, were you?”
“Oh, not cruel, no.Though the threats from my umbrella might have given them a bit of a turn. The look on old Glossop's face was worth it all. Happy days, what?”
Madeline's big blue eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Bertie, how could you? And to think,” she gave a little hiccup, “That I was going to –“
“Er,” Bertie said helpfully.
Madeline let out a wail, and, burying her face in her handkerchief, dashed out of the alley and disappeared around the corner.
“Well, all's well that ends well, what?” Feeling slightly guilty but much relieved, Bertie moved to go.
“What goes around, comes around,” growled the shadows.
Bertie jumped back as if stung. “What did you say?” There was something decidedly rummy about the way the woman was staring at him, a combination of African vultures and his Aunt Agatha.
The crone glared at Bertie with hooded yellow eyes, wringing her hands together in an odd sort of fashion.
Bertie tipped his hat to her, about to wish her good-day. But the woman had started muttering strange nothings to herself, and Bertie couldn't make out a word she said. He decided to head off home instead of going to the Drones. A strong headache was beginning a seige to his brain, probably from an overdose of Madeline Basset.
.......
It seemed like at least three ages had passed when Berite finally staggered through the door of the flat. His mind was whirling like a carousel out of control, all spinning lights and distorted fairground music. The floor seemed along way away, while the walls were wobbling in a most malicious fashion. “That's odd. I must tell Jeeves,” he thought, swaying, “Jeeves would know...” suddenly the floor zoomed closer, and all of the lights winked out.
.....
Bertie opened his eyes. Early evidence suggested he was sprawled on the floor of his apartment, and closer inspection confirmed that this suspicion was indeed true. What in the blazes happened? He wondered. His head felt remarkably clear, so he couldn't have overdone it at the Drones... About to unpick himself from the carpet, Bertie froze. He looked at his hand, or where his hand should have been. He firmly impressed on his mind that a hand should, in fact, be there, and told himself firmly to snap out of his daydream. But his mind did not cooperate. Bertie was left staring at a brown, distinctly furry paw. 'What!' he yelped, and at the same time, a loud mew sounded right next to him.
Bertie's noggin might not have been the fastest in the basket, but he wasn't a Drones Dart's Tournament Champion for nothing. He flailed his hand – 'front paw,' the part of his brain that sounded like Jeeves whispered. He glanced around warily, in case the rest of his apartment had undergone a spurt of fancy and had likewise transformed itself. But the room before him seemed relatively normal – if he was in the practice of looking at his apartment through a large telescope. His couch was big enough for a giant, and if that giant had happened to have brought its friends, and if the giant's friends had each been accompanied by two aunts apiece, well, it was safe to say that there would not have been a shortage of space.
Then, with a tight feeling in his chest, Bertie looked himself over.
The number of paws was counted and carefully toted up to four, which was not an unsatisfactory number, considering. If one was turned into an animal without so much as a by your leave, he supposed four was a perfectly acceptable amount to own. Lots of animals, some of whom Bertie was quite chummy with, had four paws. But why did they have to belong to him? He continued his inspection, pleased when he was able to twist his neck almost right around. It afforded what could be deemed a front row seat to view his brown, slightly fuzzy tail.
Bertie's first thought was, under the circumstances, understandable. 'Oh, heck.'
The thought which trailed after it was more coherent. 'Jeeves is going to give me hell when he finds all my clothes in a heap on the floor.'
'Oh, blast. Jeeves! If I can't talk, how will he know its me? I don't want to end up on the streets! Does Jeeves even like cats?” Bertie strained his mind. He'd seen Jeeves with a cat on his lap, he was sure of it. If he could only manage to convince Jeeves that his master had turned into a small toffee coloured feline, Bertie was sure that Jeeves would be able to fix it in less time than it took to say “That tie is not appropriate for a gentleman.”
But how?
Bertie felt a pressure in his jaw and to his surprise felt himself giving a huge yawn. Maybe I'll think better on the couch, he thought, and padded towards it. He halted, frowning. It seemed higher up then normal. Oh yes. Bertie had almost forgotten his new state of being. Cats are good jumpers, he recalled, from his childhood days. When Tuppy had introduced his new puppy to his cousin Angela's cat, the cat had jumped over a six foot wall.
Bertie looked at the top of the couch. Well, Wooster, you'll just have to give it your best. He scrunched his hind legs, and sprung.
Oof!
His legs splayed onto the sofa covering, scrambled for purchase, and gained it.
Bertie curled up. Jeeves would think of something. All he had to do was wait until Jeeves returned... as long as he stayed... awake...
I'm a long time lurker very nervously posting a first fic, which is AU, and sort of silly... you have been warned.
Title: Jeeves and the Feline Phenomenon
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Me? I don't own nothing.
Words:1437
Bertie was strolling down High street, whistling a merry tune, feeling as spiffy as a brass button who'd just been shined, when he heard a voice that made his blood run screaming for the exit.
“Bertie!”
Bertie cringed. Normally, of course, one wouldn't startle in horror every time one heard one's own name, and not just because you'd end up hopping up and down every time you entered the Drones. But this voice was different. It spoke of sugar confectionery, and of unnaturally bright flowers gazing at you with goopy eyes, if flowers could have eyes, of course. It was the voice of Madeline Basset.
“Bertie!” sung the voice, and it was louder. The horror was encroaching.
Bertie looked wildly around and made a dash for it between two fruit-carts, but his foot caught on a wheel and he found himself making acquaintance with two ants crawling along the pavement, and a pair of black, elegantly pointed shoes.
“Oh, Bertie, how silly you are!” Madeline grasped his arm. “I think you are so noble for trying to conceal your love, but Bertie, your struggles are in vain.”
“Ish they,” Bertie said, unpeeling himself from the cement. “Well, sorry old thing, lovely to see you, I'll just be toodling along -”
Madeline gave a tinkling little laugh and gripped his arm harder. “Don't be silly, Bertie. There's something I want to show you. Come with me.”
Bertie found himself lurching along beside her, trapped in a surprisingly strong grip. He supposed some girls were like limpets – they looked squishy and innocent enough, but could cling on like steel when they chose.
“Nearly there,” said Madeline. “Oh, Bertie, look!”
“What?” said Bertie. “Oh yes, jolly nice alley. Very... Very bricky.Now, Madeline, I really -”
“I've always thought that kittens are as fresh and as innocent as the morning dew,” she sighed, clasping her hands together.
“Eh?” Bertie's eyes picked out from the murky grey alley wall, a murky grey old woman holding a basket from which peered some scrawny looking creatures that just might have been kittens. The woman-or thing-leered at them, exposing not so much of a toothy grin as the absence of it.
“You like kittens, m'dears?” croaked the thing.
“Oh, rather,” Bertie said faintly. He wished Jeeves were here, then realised that the old feudal spirit would have nightmares for weeks at the state of the woman's clothing. “Yes, can't get enough of them.”
“I didn't know you had cats, Bertie! Why, I always knew we were soul mates.”
“Oh, no,” Bertie said hurriedly. “No, no no no. No. Never had any. Well. I did have a few, at one point, but they escaped. Twenty three, all in in my bedroom. Or was it twenty four? But they just dashed up and left. Strange, that.”
Madeline let out a small yelp, which put him in mind of those tiny yippy white ladies dogs who nipped your ankles when you weren't watching. “Bertie! You weren't cruel to them, were you?”
“Oh, not cruel, no.Though the threats from my umbrella might have given them a bit of a turn. The look on old Glossop's face was worth it all. Happy days, what?”
Madeline's big blue eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Bertie, how could you? And to think,” she gave a little hiccup, “That I was going to –“
“Er,” Bertie said helpfully.
Madeline let out a wail, and, burying her face in her handkerchief, dashed out of the alley and disappeared around the corner.
“Well, all's well that ends well, what?” Feeling slightly guilty but much relieved, Bertie moved to go.
“What goes around, comes around,” growled the shadows.
Bertie jumped back as if stung. “What did you say?” There was something decidedly rummy about the way the woman was staring at him, a combination of African vultures and his Aunt Agatha.
The crone glared at Bertie with hooded yellow eyes, wringing her hands together in an odd sort of fashion.
Bertie tipped his hat to her, about to wish her good-day. But the woman had started muttering strange nothings to herself, and Bertie couldn't make out a word she said. He decided to head off home instead of going to the Drones. A strong headache was beginning a seige to his brain, probably from an overdose of Madeline Basset.
.......
It seemed like at least three ages had passed when Berite finally staggered through the door of the flat. His mind was whirling like a carousel out of control, all spinning lights and distorted fairground music. The floor seemed along way away, while the walls were wobbling in a most malicious fashion. “That's odd. I must tell Jeeves,” he thought, swaying, “Jeeves would know...” suddenly the floor zoomed closer, and all of the lights winked out.
.....
Bertie opened his eyes. Early evidence suggested he was sprawled on the floor of his apartment, and closer inspection confirmed that this suspicion was indeed true. What in the blazes happened? He wondered. His head felt remarkably clear, so he couldn't have overdone it at the Drones... About to unpick himself from the carpet, Bertie froze. He looked at his hand, or where his hand should have been. He firmly impressed on his mind that a hand should, in fact, be there, and told himself firmly to snap out of his daydream. But his mind did not cooperate. Bertie was left staring at a brown, distinctly furry paw. 'What!' he yelped, and at the same time, a loud mew sounded right next to him.
Bertie's noggin might not have been the fastest in the basket, but he wasn't a Drones Dart's Tournament Champion for nothing. He flailed his hand – 'front paw,' the part of his brain that sounded like Jeeves whispered. He glanced around warily, in case the rest of his apartment had undergone a spurt of fancy and had likewise transformed itself. But the room before him seemed relatively normal – if he was in the practice of looking at his apartment through a large telescope. His couch was big enough for a giant, and if that giant had happened to have brought its friends, and if the giant's friends had each been accompanied by two aunts apiece, well, it was safe to say that there would not have been a shortage of space.
Then, with a tight feeling in his chest, Bertie looked himself over.
The number of paws was counted and carefully toted up to four, which was not an unsatisfactory number, considering. If one was turned into an animal without so much as a by your leave, he supposed four was a perfectly acceptable amount to own. Lots of animals, some of whom Bertie was quite chummy with, had four paws. But why did they have to belong to him? He continued his inspection, pleased when he was able to twist his neck almost right around. It afforded what could be deemed a front row seat to view his brown, slightly fuzzy tail.
Bertie's first thought was, under the circumstances, understandable. 'Oh, heck.'
The thought which trailed after it was more coherent. 'Jeeves is going to give me hell when he finds all my clothes in a heap on the floor.'
'Oh, blast. Jeeves! If I can't talk, how will he know its me? I don't want to end up on the streets! Does Jeeves even like cats?” Bertie strained his mind. He'd seen Jeeves with a cat on his lap, he was sure of it. If he could only manage to convince Jeeves that his master had turned into a small toffee coloured feline, Bertie was sure that Jeeves would be able to fix it in less time than it took to say “That tie is not appropriate for a gentleman.”
But how?
Bertie felt a pressure in his jaw and to his surprise felt himself giving a huge yawn. Maybe I'll think better on the couch, he thought, and padded towards it. He halted, frowning. It seemed higher up then normal. Oh yes. Bertie had almost forgotten his new state of being. Cats are good jumpers, he recalled, from his childhood days. When Tuppy had introduced his new puppy to his cousin Angela's cat, the cat had jumped over a six foot wall.
Bertie looked at the top of the couch. Well, Wooster, you'll just have to give it your best. He scrunched his hind legs, and sprung.
Oof!
His legs splayed onto the sofa covering, scrambled for purchase, and gained it.
Bertie curled up. Jeeves would think of something. All he had to do was wait until Jeeves returned... as long as he stayed... awake...
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I have to buy a big house in the future. XD
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The first half had me chuckling out loud.
I think Jeeves is a secret cat person and will fall in love with cat!Bertie in no time. I hope. *hopes*
Looking forward to more!
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I can't wait for more!
One teeeeeeensy murmur from the grammar domme in my mental basement: I don't think it's is used for possessives (at least in the US). I've been taught like so: "It's probably a good thing that the alien grabbed its bubble helmet before leaving the ship."
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Also, what
The Lady 529
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I can't WAIT to see how Jeeves deals with this!
And what is the secret of the old crone with the basket of almost-kittens? Is it really an old crone, or someone more sinister? This needs to be followed up as well. And why would even Madeline be interested in a basketful of wretched creatures rather than pretty kitties, and why would she go near a noisome alley anyway?
I can see a sequel coming once Bertie has been restored to himself. :-)
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