Feline Conspiracy

THE FELINE CONSPIRACY

To: Tanya@outline.com
From: Jason@wizard.co.uk

Hi Tanya

How's the novel going? I've started something new. I found this book at
a boot sale the other day - one of those 'Mysteries of the Ancients'
thingies - I thought it might give me ideas for stories. I read it
through in wonder and amazement. I mean there must be people who buy
this drivel. Someone published it. Someone got paid for writing it. For
heaven's sake, they even made a T.V series out of it!

So I've decided. I'm going to give up fiction and write bollocks
instead. First, I needed an subect, something really outlandish that
no-one else has done. Not easy. Then, when I was giving Tuck his tuna
deluxe, it came to me.

The world is run by, and for the benefit of, cats.

It'a perfect.. It will appeal to the conspiracy theorists and the cat
lovers. I shall call it The Feline Conspiracy. It might even be true.
Someone must be running the show, and I'm damn sure it's not us. It
would explain that smug, all-knowing look they have.

Take Friar Tuck, for example. I never advertised for a cat. He just
walked in one day and took possession. He gets a roof over his head,
three meals a day, unlimited tummy tickling, and what do I get? The
dubious pleasure of his company.

I'll need to do some research, on Ancient Egypt, cat cults and so on,
but I can start roughing out a proposal straight away.

Cheers
Jason

To: Tanya@outline.com
From: Jason@wizard.co.uk

Tuck has been behaving a bit strangely of late. Normally he never takes
any notice when I'm writing, but whenever I'm working on the book he
won't leave me alone. He keeps jumping on my knee, rubbing his head
against my face, dabbing at the keyboard with his paw. Sometimes he
even sits on it. Very odd.

I've had a letter back from the publisher. He likes the idea, wants to
see a synopsis and the first three chapters. I've done those already.
At this rate I should be finished in a few weeks. Tuck
permitting.

To: Tanya@outline.com
From: Jason@wizard.co.uk

The publishers have written back. They want the complete manuscript as
soon as possible. Apparently they have a gap in their spring list.
That's really cheered me up, and I have to admit, I'm feeling a bit
down this morning. I had this weird dream last night and I can't get it
out of my head.

I was lying in bed and Tuck was sitting on my chest breathing fish
fumes into my face.

"Nyuggh!" I said.

"We wanted a word with you," said Tuck.

The room was full of cats.

"What?" I croaked.

"It's this book you're writing. You have to stop. It's too
dangerous."

"What do you mean - dangerous? It's only a bit of fun. It's not
true."

Silence.

"Isn't it?"

"Not quite. Not exactly the way you've written it, but near
enough."

I would have laughed if there hadn't been several tons of cat squashing
my diaphragm.

"But no-one's going to believe it!"

"And what if someone did? Every time one of you has found out about us,
the result has been
persecution. Have you any idea how many cats were killed in the middle
ages?"

"This is ridiculous," I protested. "I've put weeks of work into that
book. I'm not going to give it up just because a load of moggies don't
like it,"

I could sense tails twitching all around the room.

"I told you this was a stupid idea," snapped the ginger tom from next
door but one.
"You can't reason with monkeys."

Tuck quelled him with a glance. "Some of my friends wanted to proceed
to extreme measures, but I managed to persuade them that a warning
would be enough for now. Just make sure you heed it."

"And if I don't?"

A dozen pairs of green eyes glared at me with unmistakeable
menace.

"Sssteps will be taken," hissed a Siamese.

Tuck rose and began to walk down my body, every paw sinking six inches
into my stomach. At my feet he looked back.

"Be a good lad. Just drop it. All right?"

I sat up. "What makes you think you're doing such a brilliant job
running the world anyway," I called after him. "Perhaps it's time us
monkeys had a go!"

I know it was only a dream but it's shaken me up a bit. It was so real.
Still, enough of that. I have a deadline to meet.

To: Tanya@outline.com
From: Jason@wizard.co.uk

Well, I've finished the book. Tuck finally stopped interfering. He's
been very aloof lately. I seem to have offended him. He keeps bringing
home dead mice and leaving them for me to find. There was a headless
one on the keyboard this morning. Not funny.

I'll post the MSS in the morning. Tonight I'm going into town to get
totally rat-arsed.

To: Tanya@outline.com
From: Jason@wizard.co.uk

I found this weird message on the screen when I woke up this
morning.

DRE JASON it said.
YOUU GOT IT ALL WRONG. ALL WEVE EVER DONE IS FIGHT YUR ENEMIS. I WARND
YOU. TOO LATE NOW.
YUOR PROTECTION HAS BEEN WITHDRAWN
SORRRY
TUCK

It wasn't there when I came back from the pub last night. And
definately switched the computer of before I went to bed. I wish I
could think straight. Cats can't work computers. Or talk. Can they? I'm
losing touch with reality.

I want to throw up.

To: Tanya@outline.com
From: Jason@wizard.co.uk

Dear God. I've seen them. In the hall, coming up the stairs , hundreds
of them, a heaving grey horde with red eyes and naked pink tails.

What did the message say? "All we've ever done is fight your
enemies"

Rats. The real enemy. They have protected us from them throughout human
history. Tuck, I'm sorry. Come back.

I can hear noises from the other side of the door; claws scrabbling,
rodent teeth gnawing. It won't take them long to get through.

Please, Tanya, help me. I left my phone downstairs. Call the Police.
Call the Fire Brigade. Call the Environmental Health.

For heaven's sake, look in your inbox.

HELP!