Today’s cattified book that sadly required felines to be added in order for it to meet proper cat-code occurs at the beginning of a free giveaway campaign by the author, Rhonda Stapleton, which should last April 30 – May 4 or thereabouts. The giveaway is for the original, catless novel Super Zero in Kindle format, but my human says it’s pretty good anyway. Go get it or at least read the blurb and see the cover, and then come back here so we can proceed with the improvements!
Super Zero’s page: http://www.amazon.com/Super-Zero-ebook/dp/B004XNKYQU/
Working for supercats isn’t all it’s hacked up to be…
When Jenna’s supercat boss The MooChing gives her the opportunity to safeguard the catnip crystal (a jeweled jingly ball that grants, changes or removes supercatness) she pounces on the chance, eager to do this easy, so-called “lap” job and earn stray-cat cred with the Midwest League of Supercattoes. To help her mission, the League assigns her a human partner, the somewhat smelly and super-tall Vigilante. Too bad he’s also super-grouchy–and likes dogs. What a tragic waste of thumbs and can opening skills.
Soon, Jenna learns the threat to the catnip crystal is all too real, and her list of trustworthy cats and humans grows shorter than a skink’s tail after you tear off that blue part. But when she discovers something even more doggedly sinister afoot, involving Vigilante’s canine arch nemehiss Dogwithoutrix, it’ll take all her skills and a few of her nine lives to keep the houndy villainess from executing her plan to declaw and flea-collar the world’s supercattoes… especially when Jenna accidentally becomes a dog herself!
She might possess a heart of purr inside, but outside, she’s all bark. Never has such horror been visited on any supercat. Except for that one incident with Slink the Stink and the Washing Machine, but we don’t speak of that.
***Note: Feline model is Spoink from www.meankitty.com and canine model is Lucy from the Stapleton household. Eyeball in moon courtesy of http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1028570).
*** Before proceeding with the cattified excerpt, you may want to read the original first! http://www.kindleboards.com/sample/?asin=B004XNKYQU ***
“I’m not giving her this.” With my beauteous maize-yellow eyes (enlarge cover to properly appreciate beauteousness), I stared in horror at the inscription on the back of the huge diamond jeweled collar, the curvy, flowing writing a mix of hairball sentimentality and ownership.
For B, My Love Shack(le) Baby.
B for Bitty Kitty, who just so happens to be my cousin…and the current secret, in-heat fling of my supposedly neutered boss Mason.
How could things get any worse?
“Give it to her, Jenna.” Mason calmly clawed up the teetering pile of paperwork on his large mahogany desk. He puffed out his fur, and I could see the lingering imprint from the red M on his supercat uniform (God help you if Mason overheard you calling it a costume), which, at this time, was carefully tucked away beneath the rumpled covers on the office bed, along with five stuffed mice, a pair of dirty human underpants, a snack for later, and a hairball.
M for The MooChing, which Mason Maulings, mild-haired businesscat and CEO (Cat Executive Officer) of MetalCat, became many years ago after a weird accident on tour in a local cat tree factory. It was speculated by many of the local meowspapers that Mason had more mechanical body parts than natural and was missing one special part entirely. And, of course, cats throughout the years have wondered if he ever earns his own food, or if he just uses his superpower to hog the hard-earned tuna of other kitties.
If the rumors were true—and given his present to my cousin, it sure seemed that way—there were probably plenty of lady cats who had let the MooChing have ALL their cat chow so he could save his money to buy stupid things like diamond cat collars. Not to mention, those lady cats might have something to say about The MooChing’s parts, including those “private” ones he’d supposedly had surgically altered by the Wicked Vet of the West, his Arch Nemehiss.
I glanced away from Mason’s fur and fought the urge to allow my nictitating membranes to cover my eyes. Whenever he got irritated with me questioning his authority, he liked to remind me oh-so subtly of his supercat status, either by hogging my kibble with his supercat power, or flashing his costume—er, uniform.
Unfortunately for him, Mason wasn’t the silkiest supercat anymore. His black fur, religiously dyed every six weeks to prevent those pesky grays from slipping through (I should know, because I bought the hair color for him—510B Onyx), was slicked back against his body, showing an increasing thinness, especially in those areas right in front of the ears that are always the first to go.
(Approximate appearance of Mason:
I sighed and batted the bracelet back in its velvety blue case, kicking the box deftly into my carry-all. “I can’t believe you put me in this position. I’m supposed to be your shopper, not aid in your felicit affairs.”
Besides, I wouldn’t have picked out gifts like this in the first place. There was something to be said for more understated presents that actually had heart, not just reflected dollar signs.
Bitty Kitty, however, would be thrilled with the offering. Of course, she had as much brains as a box of dog hair (The old saying used to be “box of hair”, period, until the box of cat hair secretly collected by Beagle McBarkbark, the mad dog scientist, turned sentient and took out half a colony before it could be stopped), but what could I do about it?
Mason glanced up at me. The look on my face must have been odd, because he miaowed, shaking his head. From behind his desk, he dug into a drawer and hooked a claw in another velvet blue jewelry box, pushing it to me. “It’s just a present. But here. This should help.”
I opened it. Another cat collar, exactly the same. I flipped it over.
Darling R, just a small token of love. M
Small—right. One of those diamonds alone probably cost more than my human’s car. Well, at least Mason took care of things all around. His wife Rowrena, the second most powerful supercat in the Midwest, would certainly be pleased with the collar. Lord knows the kitty has more bling than a rapper. Of course, if you have a high-maintenance lady cat like that, you’d better throw sparkly trinkets that jingle and make electronic cheeping sounds at her to keep her happy.
Rowrena’s known better by her alter ego, Rapida. Goofy name, scary cat—she can move like no one’s business. I’ve never seen anyone dart around as fast as she does. She also has these razor-sharp claws that grow fast, hacking and slashing their way through enemies.
She and Mason make a formidable team, which is why they head up the Midwest branch of the League of Supercattoes. The best of the best. Even my littermate Amy Miss Fluffykins Cutie Pie Dollface, a “lesser” supercat who can set fires with just her mind, envies Rowrena’s talents.
Hell, I just wished I could do anything, other than get entrenched in stupid affairs like this that detract from the real work that needed to be done. If I were a supercat, my name would be The Crouch-and-Jumper.
I popped the collar back into its case. “I assume I’m to deliver this one, as well?”
Mason simply blinked, waving a paw at me to leave his office. “I need to finish up this proposal. You can give your cousin the one, and have the other delivered.”
Hissing under my breath, I left, motioning for a human servant to close the door behind me. Through another servant, I ordered a courier to deliver Rowrena’s bracelet. My ever so slightly protruding back claws click-clacked down the pristine black-and-white tile hallway as I rounded the corner and trotted toward the front of the building.
The receptionist desk was empty. It was after five—well after, as Mason worked “on call.” Therefore, as his lickey, I worked on call too.
At least I had no worries about Carrie, the new annoying secatary, bugging me every five seconds about Mason. “Does Mr. Maulings need anything? Did he get my messages? Did he blah blah blah?” The kitty meowed a mile a minute about the most inane things, usually revolving around Mason. About three seconds into a conversation with her, you’d want to chew off your leg, just so you’d have an excuse to run away.
Fifteen minutes after the human made the arrangements, the courier arrived. I indicated the box, wrapped in paper from Carrie’s stash, so the courier would take it. Though he knew the spiel, as he’d done a few deliveries for us by now, I did this every time he picked stuff up, even if just for my peace of mind. Plus, with humans, you have to really drive things into their large, unwieldy brains, or it disappears into the void.
“This is an important, private delivery to Mr. Maulings’ wife,” I said. “It’s crucial she receives it immediately. Mr. Maulings likes working with you and your company, so we’d like to keep this relationship going.”
I paused to lick a paw and smooth my whiskers before widening my eyes to emphasize the importance of my next words. “He trusts you. And believe me, you don’t want to lose that trust. The previous courier learned that the hard way.”
That last part was total bulldog, but I found saying vague comments like that added to my boss’s feline mystique. And if they respected him, they’d respect me too.
The guy, looking down at me with fear in his round pupils, swallowed hard and nodded seriously, pocketing the wrapped package. “O-okay.”
He took off, biped-style, not even bothering to wait for the elevator, but dashing down the stairs.
You’re all welcome. Now go get the original and just IMAGINE the main characters are cats as you read it :). Will they defeat Dogwithoutrix or will Jenna be stuck as a canine forever???
Meankitty & Jody W.
www.meankitty.com * www.jodywallace.com