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Water and Glass - Kat and Mause
Kat and Mause
By Mew Mew Mew Poing and Rhombus Ticks
Mause the Mouse felt special even though he knew he wasn’t. As he sipped a cheese shake inside of the apartment/storage unit he shared with Kat the Cartoon Cat. “The rent is due, and we don’t have any money.”
Kat popped into several of the surface images inside of the apartment, all four wall, the computer screen, the chair, the bathroom mirror and the large Kat the Cat Clock that Kat saved as merch from his days with Disney two centuries ago. It was worth more than everything else in the apartment by a factor of ten, but Kat had kept it as a tie to his roots.
“We could put on a show!” Kat beamed like a small sun, his teeth reflecting his face in smaller shiny images of his own face, which on the screens created a mirror in a mirror effect.
“You recommend putting on a show for everything, you are public domain now, so we’d need to generate entirely new content to earn a dime.” Kat thought a show could solve all problems from world hunger to finding Mause’s keyes. It got old after a while.
“So we write new material. You’re a great writer, Mause.”
“You think everyone is a great writer, Kat. You’re terrible at judging the quality of the script. That’s probably the only way some of those early cartoons you did were tolerable to you.”
“I’m very proud of my early work!” He was both snarling and smiling at the same time. It was the most catlike thing Mause had ever seen him do.
Mause laughed, “Anyway, I’m an artist, not a writer. We need to get a writer.”
“Well then let's get a writer!”
“It's not that easy. We’d need to pay one.” Mause had had variations of this conversation before. Round and round they went.
Kat smiled, “We’ll give them exposure!”
Mause took the virtual mallet that Kat had given him for just this occasion and whacked Kat over the head several times. From Mause’s perspective it was a transparent thing of mist and shadows but it was quite real to Kat, whose head suddenly went flat and had several stars while his eyes turned to spirals.
Kat babbled, “dahdahduhduhduh”
“WHAT do we NOT do Kat?” Mause asked patiently.
Kat sighed, “We don’t exploit artists for exposure?”
“That is correct.”
“Well then we’re screwed.” Kat’s ears fell flat and his floating head sighed dejectedly. “I’m going to be binned. The hardware to house me is not replaceable.”
They were all depressed and got drunk and told war stories for an hour and then played video games trying to forget the looming deadline. They went out, they got drunk, which was easy and cheap since Mause didn't need much booze and Kat could get drunk on digital liquor and he didn't exactly have refined tastes. It was a great and depressing time. This repeated for nine days until they had only one day left to obtain the rent.
Then a miracle happened. Well, wasn’t quite right...it was an intrusive, highly annoying neighbor going door to door talking about the block party that people were having where there were several contests. The centipede snake lifted 12 of his sneakers, the smell of his feet making Mause want to vomit but took the flyer from one of his three fingered gloved hands.
“Block Party” it said, “Drinks, dancing and live bands performing. Contests including a talent contest, charades, and a poetry slam” wait...what? Mause checked the writing twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him and then pushed a protesting centipede snake out of the apartment.
“Kat! We’re saved!”
Kat looked up from his digital beer and boggled, “Wha? How?” His two virtual hands spread wide and tried to ask questions.
“There’s a poetry contest.”
Kat beamed, “I’m good at poetry.”
“I know you...
By Mew Mew Mew Poing and Rhombus Ticks
Mause the Mouse felt special even though he knew he wasn’t. As he sipped a cheese shake inside of the apartment/storage unit he shared with Kat the Cartoon Cat. “The rent is due, and we don’t have any money.”
Kat popped into several of the surface images inside of the apartment, all four wall, the computer screen, the chair, the bathroom mirror and the large Kat the Cat Clock that Kat saved as merch from his days with Disney two centuries ago. It was worth more than everything else in the apartment by a factor of ten, but Kat had kept it as a tie to his roots.
“We could put on a show!” Kat beamed like a small sun, his teeth reflecting his face in smaller shiny images of his own face, which on the screens created a mirror in a mirror effect.
“You recommend putting on a show for everything, you are public domain now, so we’d need to generate entirely new content to earn a dime.” Kat thought a show could solve all problems from world hunger to finding Mause’s keyes. It got old after a while.
“So we write new material. You’re a great writer, Mause.”
“You think everyone is a great writer, Kat. You’re terrible at judging the quality of the script. That’s probably the only way some of those early cartoons you did were tolerable to you.”
“I’m very proud of my early work!” He was both snarling and smiling at the same time. It was the most catlike thing Mause had ever seen him do.
Mause laughed, “Anyway, I’m an artist, not a writer. We need to get a writer.”
“Well then let's get a writer!”
“It's not that easy. We’d need to pay one.” Mause had had variations of this conversation before. Round and round they went.
Kat smiled, “We’ll give them exposure!”
Mause took the virtual mallet that Kat had given him for just this occasion and whacked Kat over the head several times. From Mause’s perspective it was a transparent thing of mist and shadows but it was quite real to Kat, whose head suddenly went flat and had several stars while his eyes turned to spirals.
Kat babbled, “dahdahduhduhduh”
“WHAT do we NOT do Kat?” Mause asked patiently.
Kat sighed, “We don’t exploit artists for exposure?”
“That is correct.”
“Well then we’re screwed.” Kat’s ears fell flat and his floating head sighed dejectedly. “I’m going to be binned. The hardware to house me is not replaceable.”
They were all depressed and got drunk and told war stories for an hour and then played video games trying to forget the looming deadline. They went out, they got drunk, which was easy and cheap since Mause didn't need much booze and Kat could get drunk on digital liquor and he didn't exactly have refined tastes. It was a great and depressing time. This repeated for nine days until they had only one day left to obtain the rent.
Then a miracle happened. Well, wasn’t quite right...it was an intrusive, highly annoying neighbor going door to door talking about the block party that people were having where there were several contests. The centipede snake lifted 12 of his sneakers, the smell of his feet making Mause want to vomit but took the flyer from one of his three fingered gloved hands.
“Block Party” it said, “Drinks, dancing and live bands performing. Contests including a talent contest, charades, and a poetry slam” wait...what? Mause checked the writing twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him and then pushed a protesting centipede snake out of the apartment.
“Kat! We’re saved!”
Kat looked up from his digital beer and boggled, “Wha? How?” His two virtual hands spread wide and tried to ask questions.
“There’s a poetry contest.”
Kat beamed, “I’m good at poetry.”
“I know you...
