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moldygreenblue · 14 days

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An Account From The Man Over There

(In which I decided to write a Cats musical fanfic where the beginning of the Jellicle Ball is shown from The Man Over There's perspective.)

Thomas did not have a good day today. What makes it worse is that he knows it could have been a good day. And a good final work day would be the perfect start to his days off.

His penultimate appointment of the day was for a new patient; a dear little cat name Euthymia, or Mia for short. Mia has the biggest eyes Thomas has ever seen on a cat before. She was also the sweetest, compliant cat he cared for at the clinic. Mia is very much like her owner in that regards. Mrs. Covey is also kind and sweet. Both of them are a matching pair, and Thomas wishes they were the last appointment of the day.

But they weren’t.

The less Thomas thinks about the final appointment of the day, the better. He doesn’t want to think again about how the pet owner believed a cat could survive a no-meat diet. He doesn’t want to recall how the owner told him shamelessly about switching their cat’s diet without asking a vet about it. He doesn’t want to think about how lost his cool, and how he barely kept his job.

As Thomas slumps down to the floor, his back right up against the door, he sighs. He’s tired and hungry. But he doesn’t want to finish his leftover takeout from yesterday.

Thomas instead decides to go to sleep early.

Thomas stands back up, and goes to his bedroom. He strips out of his clothes, remaining only in his boxer trunks. Picking up his trousers, Thomas reaches into the right pocket and pulls out his keys, setting them on his nightstand. And after setting his alarm for eight-thirty, Thomas flops stomach-side down onto his bed. He can throw his clothes in the hamper tomorrow morning.

Thomas rolls onto his backside, and stares at his ceiling. He stares, and soon eventually finds himself drifting off into sleep.

When Thomas wakes up again, the first thing that he hears is soften sounds of unexpected meowing and screeching from outside his bedroom window, where the nearby junkyard is. While there is the occasional cat or two (or more; Thomas once when sick counted the number of cats there, and counted seven) at the junkyard, the noises never get on his nerves.

Until now. And Thomas is not happy.

I already had a bad day yesterday, thinks Thomas. This isn’t what I need now.

Thomas groans as he gets out of his bed, rubbing both of his eyes. He soon finds himself staring at the racks of shoes near his closet. With an idea flashing into his mind, Thomas walks towards the pile of shoes, and picks up his good boot from the top rack.

Thomas then goes to his bedroom window. He slides open it up, and chucks the boot out.

And there’s nothing. It’s just a beautiful silence.

“MEOWMEOWQUEENMEOWOFTHEOWMENIGHT!”

“Oh for—”

Really? thinks Thomas. They didn’t scatter and leave? Well, that’s just great! Just great! Now I’m missing one boot. Why the hell did I threw my good boot? It wasn’t cheap!

Thomas slams his window close, and quickly goes back to his closet. He grabs one of his pajama bottoms and a knitted pullover, putting them on as fast as he can. Thomas then grabs his keys from the nightstand, slips his feet into a pair of slippers, and rushes out of his bedroom.

Thomas leaves his flat (but not without locking it; he’s not risking anything), and makes a dash to the junkyard. The quicker he finds his boot, the quicker he can go back home and get whatever shut-eye he can get before his alarm rings.

As Thomas approaches the junkyard, he can still hear the screeching and meowing. It’s louder than before, and more in sync, like a choir.

Now, when Thomas bought his flat from Mr. Faber, he was told the junkyard nearby is forbidden. No one can enter, unless they have a key. And Mr. Faber has the only key in existence. However, Thomas over time in his observation discovered that there is a way inside: through a broken fence piece at the entrance gate, located by the street lamp.

Thomas never thought he would enter the junkyard, especially by sneaking in. There’s a first time for everything, perhaps. And upon entering the junkyard —breaking into the junkyard— Thomas couldn’t help but think something is feeling…off.

He only took a few steps, but Thomas thinks that everything gotten bigger. A lot bigger, as if he shrank in size. And he thinks this more and more as he continues walking, realizing that it’s taking longer to walk to the center of the junkyard, where he knows his boot landed.

It’s at this point does Thomas realizes something isn’t right. Something about this night is wrong. The earlier meowing and screeching are gone. Instead, Thomas can now hear a group of people singing. And they’re singing. About cats.

“Romantical cats, Pedantical cats

Critical cats, Parasitical cats

Allegorical cats, Metaphorical cats

Statistical cats and Mystical cats!”

“I don’t think one can be metaphorical, cat or human,” mutters Thomas.

“Political cats, Hypocritical cats

Clerical cats, Hysterical cats

Cynical cats, Rabbinical cats!”

Thomas finally approaches the center of the junkyard. And he stops. He stops and carefully crouches behind something. A hat-box. He’s crouching behind a giant hat-box.

This can’t be real, thinks Thomas. This has to be a dream.

Thomas crouches behind the giant hat-box, and sees it. He sees it, and can’t believe it. It’s impossible, yet he’s witnessing it right before his very eyes.

Right before his eyes, Thomas sees a group of cats dancing and singing. The cats are singing like humans, and they look like humans. They resemble humans in stylize and detail costumes that are feline-like, fitting for a mega musical. The cats are dancing together in sync, their voices in unison. Voices he can understand; Thomas wonders anytime he was tipsy on a near or full moon and heard cats —or rather, one particular cat— speaking wasn’t his imagination.

“Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats

Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats

Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats!”

And out of everything to be thinking about in this moment, Thomas wants to know of one thing:

What is a Jellicle cat? Nothing of what I heard earlier actually define it…

Thomas makes the mistake of letting go of his hold of the hat-box. He slips and falls onto the ground of the junkyard. Thomas quickly scurries to hide again. If there’s a chance that one of those cats heard him falling—

A brown-greyish tom cat rushes to the front of the junkyard center. He slightly resembles the frail-looking cat who used to visit The Victoria—Gus. Gus is also incidentally, the cat who Thomas now wonders could speak all this time. But Gus is to use human terms, a senior. The cat up front of the junkyard center, is middle-age. Older than Thomas himself, perhaps.

“There's a man over there with a look of surprise,

As much as to say, ‘Well now how about that!’”

Thomas slowly sulks to the ground. He was not only spotted, he got ratted out, and he got ratted out through song. Thomas likes a good musical. In fact, he even participated in one in his younger years. But Thomas isn’t sure how to feel about being sung to in this particular context…

A younger silver-grey tom cat soon joins the other cat. He looks quite puzzle. And exasperated.

“Do I actually see, with my own very eyes…

A man who's not heard of a Jellicle cat? What’s a Jellicle cat?”

“What's a Jellicle cat? What’s a Jellicle Cat?”

Thomas doesn’t like the smirk on the brown-greyish cat’s face as the question was ask.

Despite being against all sense of logic, Thomas instead of running away from the preoccupied cats and their question, he decides to walk closer to the center of the junkyard. Closer to them. What in the world lead to his current predicament?

Oh right, thinks Thomas, smacking his hand directly onto his forehead. The BOOT. The BOOT that I THREW AT THEM.

Thomas is certain he hears a soft chuckle from one of the cats. It sounds very male. Thomas wouldn’t be surprise if the chuckle came from that cat from before.

The clowder of cats is now in a pyramid formation. They’re all staring him dead in the eye, ready to sing again.

There are so many different cats in the formation. Different colors, different markings, and different patterns, or having no patterns at all…they are so many. One of the cats is on the older side. She has white and golden fur, and a woven collar. The collar looks soft to touch.

The cat looks identical to Anne’s cat, Apricot. Anne could never make Apricot a permanent indoor cat. Anne always said that Apricot comes and goes whenever she felt like it…

“The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,

It isn’t just one of your holiday games;

You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter

When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.”

The cats are once again in unison. But they are not singing, not really. They are all speaking low and solemn. The solemness in their voices matches their equally solemn faces. What they’re saying together sounds like a chant. It’s…terrifying.

It’s terrifying to hear this unexpected hush chant. It’s terrifying to hear the chant, feeling the many pairs of eyes on him. It’s terrifying to know that they’re looking at him due to being an outsider, looking inside a world he doesn’t belong to, and should never have learn.

This night is certainly going to be a different night from all others.

“First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,

Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo, or James,

Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—

All of them sensible everyday names.”

But what if one has a sister and she name her cat after a fruit, thinks Thomas. Apricot is a sensible name, sure. But it’s not exactly a formal name like the ones they just mentioned.

“There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,

Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:

Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—

But all of them sensible everyday names.”

Well, that answers my previous question, thinks Thomas.

“But I tell you a cat needs a name that's particular,”

The collective of cats moves towards him suddenly. Thomas quickly walks backwards, and falls back on the ground. He quickly scrambles backward, hoping to feel something hit his back.

“A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,”

He feels nothing. Just the cold air of the night.

“Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,

Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?

Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,

Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,

Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—

Names that never belong to more than one cat.

But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,

And that is the name that you never will guess;”

The pyramid formation breaks apart. The cats are separating into three sections. But they are still surrounding him. Do they think he’s going to attempt an escape? Thomas doesn’t think he even has a chance to escape at the moment.

“The name that no human research can discover—

But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.”

One of the cats, a pure white cat with the most expensive jeweled collar Thomas have seen before, suddenly leaves her section. She slips away near the back and sits, staring into space.

“When you notice a cat in profound meditation,

The reason, I tell you, is always the same:

His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation

Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:

His ineffable effable—”

The white cat is now on her tiptoes.

“Effanineffable

Deep and inscrutable singular name.”

As the cats continues to whisper ‘name’ they all start to disperse. They disperse, and disappear. It’s now just the white queen and him in the junkyard. She’s standing up, prepare to dance. The spotlight —Thomas isn’t sure where it came from, as well as the music that he hasn’t commented on until now— is all for the cat.

It’s a very interesting dance solo. Thomas isn’t sure why the cat is obsessing with her foot. But Thomas admits that there’s an air of elegance to her dancing. It’s very similar to how a ballerina dances. The grace that she has reminds Thomas of a ballerina friend he had back in his university days.

A cat residing the pipe —he’s a tuxedo cat— soon sprints out. The spotlight gotten bigger and brighter. The tranquil music of the white cat’s solo is now livelier, and jazzy.

“Jellicle Cats come out tonight

Jellicle Cats come one come all:

The Jellicle Moon is shining bright

Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball!”

As the tuxedo cat sings and dances along with the white cat —both of them are smiling, having a nice time together (very much how siblings who are having fun and enjoying the same shared activity), the rest of the clowder reappears.

“Jellicle Cats come out tonight

Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.”

The silver-grey tom cat from before makes his way up to the front. To where Thomas is at.

“Jellicle Cats meet once a year

At the Jellicle Ball where we all rejoice

And the Jellicle leader will soon appear

And make what is known as the Jellicle choice.”

Oh! There is a reason why there’s a clowder of cats at the junkyard tonight, thinks Thomas.

“When Old Deuteronomy just before dawn

Through a silence you feel you could cut with a knife

Announces the cat who can now be reborn

And come back to a different Jellicle life.

For waiting up there is the Heaviside Layer

Full of wonders one Jellicle only will see—”

As the silver-grey cat raises a paw...hand into the air, the rest of the cats —all have been dancing together again, all in the formation of a circle— are looking upward to the night sky. The white cat is in the center, and is also raising her hand into the air.

The silver-grey cat also sticks up his pointer finger, emphasizing that yes, only one Jellicle can go up to this Heaviside Layer. No exception.

“And Jellicles ask because Jellicles dare…

Who will it be?”

“Who will it be?” repeats the rest of the cats.

As Thomas feels the hard stare of the silver-grey cat, he decides on one thing:

He is going to have to embrace the unexpected weirdness of tonight.

He has a feeling that it’s the only way to keep his mind intact.

#cats musical #cats the musical #cats 1998 #fan fiction #fanfic #the man over there #i wrote only the beginning since that's when tmot is the most active in the musical #i do have ideas for other numbers though but idk if i'll ever get to writing them bc the concept is cool and i want to explore it #but i'm not sure if they'll actually work. so this fic for now is all it will be

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