NaNoWriMo Day #4 (1772 words)
Nov. 4th, 2006 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marieldraconisLess today. I've actually written more, but most of it was editing the next scene in Harry's Secrets, which was one of the first I wrote, so I can't count that towards my NaNo word count. However, that sets me up for the next two scenes, so look forward to seeing them sometime tomorrow.
In the meantime, here's a short story for today, based on Chala's suggestion, "How Kit Kats Got Their Name." Loosely based.
How “Kit Kat” bars got their name:
A long time ago, or at least several decades past, there was a fairly ordinary cat. She came from a pet store, where she was warm and well-fed. She lived there with her littermates, and they played all day long.
One day, there came a group of humans to the pet store, two larger, and two smaller. The smallest one caught sight of the cat, and began screaming: “Mommy, mommy, I want a kitty! I want a kitty now! Give me that kitty! Buy it for me!”
One of the larger humans went to the pet store’s human, and they began communicating. A few green things changed hands. The cat did not care for green things—vegetables and grass were the bane of any animal, though those stupid dogs across the aisle did not seem to realize it. She licked her fur, and settled back down to her nap now that the small one was no longer shrieking.
Suddenly, the cat felt something sticky grab her around the middle. The second-smallest one had wrapped one of its forelegs around her, and the other clung to a white stick which held a fur-like object the color of the sky. As it adjusted its grip on her, the sky-fur rubbed against her, making her fur even stickier. Then, it tried to push her into a dark box. She yowled in fear and struggled loose, scratching the humans by the arm as she tried to climb back onto the warm ledge where her littermates slept. At her cries, they woke and began yowling as well.
She was seized just as she got her forelegs back on the ledge, and one of the large humans tried to pull her off this time. This one had something slippery on his hands, though, and she escaped yet again. Three times they tried to seize her, and three times she escaped. Finally, though, she was growing tired. It was her time for her mid-morning nap and these humans kept on trying to place her in the dark box. She collapsed on a high shelf, panting, when she heard it...the pretty jingly noise. When the jingly noise came, she could chase the noise-maker for whole minutes on end, and sometimes when she caught it there was food or catnip. So, tired though she was, she was also hungry. She leapt off the shelf, seeking her well-earned reward for the long struggle.
She crept forward. There, finally, was the toy, held in the hand of the pet shop owner. She crouched—and more hands seized her. These were not sticky or slippery, but they had claws that pierced her and they squeezed her too tightly and they forced her into the dark place. She prepared to race out again, but the door slammed as she turned, and she could not even claw at her oppressors. She lay down and found the floor bumpy and uncomfortable. After a few tentative pokes at the door, she concluded that it would not be opened. She would have to wait to take vengeance on her captors, if they ever intended to let her out. This was, however, a depressing thought, and cats do not like depressing thoughts, so she curled up and attempted to nap.
This new place was uncomfortable and it took her a minute or two to doze off. When she finally began to snooze, she was awakened by a jolting. The cage was shaking, and knocking her around in it. She began to wail again, intending not to stop until the box remained still and the door opened. She was wailing for a long time.
When the door finally opened, she was dragged out by the sticky, dirty hands of the small humans. They poked and prodded her, making their odd, shrieking noises all the while. Then they placed her in front of some food and water. She ate and drank, grateful for the minor concession. Then, she turned to look around the prison. Before she had taken more than a few steps away, she was caught again and shoved back into the dark box.
This pattern repeated for a few days. After the first time she was forced to urinate in her litterbox, a brief trip outside was added to her routine. Her fur grew grubbier and grubbier, as she was too tired and stressed to clean it. She had no chance for escape because they were always grabbing her and pawing at her.
And then, one day, next to her food she found something similar in shape but darker in hue. It smelled edible, so she ate it. It tasted sweet and comforting, and she licked her lips and purred.
“Awwww...look...Pudding likes chocolate!”
“She ATE my chocolate!”
The routine, other than that, was unaltered. Yet the next time she was released, she immediately began sniffing out that wonderful substance. Soon, the small humans brought it to her freely, and she had no interest in other foods. She lost interest in all activities, and simply lay in her cage. She found herself vomiting like those stupid dogs when they ate grass, but the only thing she’d been eating was that amazing sweet food.
“Pudding’s been sick in her litter box three times this week! I’m going to take her to the vet.”
The cage was moving again, and this time when she was let out, it was on a ledge. For the first time in a while she thought of her siblings, and missed them, but this ledge was cold and smooth, where the other had been warm and fur-covered. There was another human there, one who smelled too clean, and the pointy-handed human. The latter one reached out and grabbed her where her mother had picked her up to carry her when she was a kitten.
“Look at this thing! It was so adorable when we got it, and now it’s sick and grotty and can’t even keep itself clean!”
The clean human reached for her, but instead of grabbing her fur, it placed one forelimb under her rear and wrapped the other around her chest and neck, stroking gently through her fur.
“It’s okay, kitten. We’ll get you cleaned up, and then we’ll make you feel better, how’s that?” She couldn’t understand the noise, but its noise along with the strokes of its paw calmed and relaxed her. “This might hurt a bit, but I’ll be right here, OK? Ma’am, I’m going to need to keep your cat overnight for observation.” The human’s noise grew louder on the last sounds, but its body was still warm and he never stopped petting her, so she didn’t mind.
Soon, the clean human (who smelled less clean now; it had her fur all over it) took her out of that area to another, brighter area. She was pleased not to see darkness, but was starting to crave the sweet-food again. She whined at it.
“It’s OK, I promise. I’ll keep you away from that mean lady. She doesn’t have the first idea how to take care of a cat. It makes me wonder for her children’s sake. I wish every call on the SPCA meant a call to social services as well, but the best I can do is help you, kitten.” Again with the noises, then the human twisted its head around to look at her. “No, you’re not a kitten, are you. But you’re too young to really be a cat. I guess I’ll call you Kit Kat.”
Then there was the unspeakable wetness, like bathing herself but with too much water and all at once. But the noise was there, and the paw. “Your fur feels like graham crackers all crumbled up. What were they doing to you?”
Then there was poking, and prodding, and sharp things in her belly, but in each case, there was also a paw, lovingly smoothing her now-clean fur, and not gripping and not pulling. Then there was sleeping, since those forelimbs seemed just the right height and angle to make a bed, and she doubted that this human would be likely to object.
After sleep-time was over, she found herself sitting on top of the human and feeling almost as if she were back in the pet store. She crawled up the human’s belly and settled by his face. She leaned forward, and began to groom it.
That day, she stayed by the clean-human at all times. It saw other cats, and dogs, and it was like the pet shop all over again, except that the human would stroke her and she was allowed to go and greet the other dogs when the human was done with them. Later that day, the human did more of the sharp things in her belly, then stroked her throat as it opened her mouth to put something in. It didn’t taste like food, but the human was murmuring more soft words to her, and so she ate it.
Then the human-with-claws came in the room. It started shrieking again, and the cat hid behind clean-human. The shrieking stopped after a while, and the cat heard a ripping sound. She looked up to see claw-human throwing a piece of paper into a round box. Then human-with-claws clicked out, sounding like it had claws at both ends.
“Come on, then, Kit Kat. Let’s take you home.” The clean human picked her up and cuddled her on the way out the door. There was no box waiting.
“So this is the poisoning case?”
“Yes. The stupid woman fed her chocolate, left her in a cage for hours on end, and the poor cat is so starved for attention that she hasn’t left my side since I first petted her. It’s like she’s never been petted before.”
“What are you going to do when the woman wants her cat back?”
“She already asked. I told her that I could report her to the SPCA and keep the cat for further treatment until the case was dealt with, or she could give me the cat in exchange for not paying my fee. She told me she hadn’t wanted ‘Pudding’ in the first place, and that she was allergic. So it’s a done deal.”
“I wish people wouldn’t buy pets they can’t take care of.”
“So do I. But enough of that. How was your trip?”
“We’re looking for a name for our newest candy line.”
“Tell me about it.”
“The candy is chocolate-covered, with wafer or cracker-like cookie on the inside.”
“I have the perfect name for it, then. How does Kit Kat sound?”
And they all lived happily ever after.
In the meantime, here's a short story for today, based on Chala's suggestion, "How Kit Kats Got Their Name." Loosely based.
How “Kit Kat” bars got their name:
A long time ago, or at least several decades past, there was a fairly ordinary cat. She came from a pet store, where she was warm and well-fed. She lived there with her littermates, and they played all day long.
One day, there came a group of humans to the pet store, two larger, and two smaller. The smallest one caught sight of the cat, and began screaming: “Mommy, mommy, I want a kitty! I want a kitty now! Give me that kitty! Buy it for me!”
One of the larger humans went to the pet store’s human, and they began communicating. A few green things changed hands. The cat did not care for green things—vegetables and grass were the bane of any animal, though those stupid dogs across the aisle did not seem to realize it. She licked her fur, and settled back down to her nap now that the small one was no longer shrieking.
Suddenly, the cat felt something sticky grab her around the middle. The second-smallest one had wrapped one of its forelegs around her, and the other clung to a white stick which held a fur-like object the color of the sky. As it adjusted its grip on her, the sky-fur rubbed against her, making her fur even stickier. Then, it tried to push her into a dark box. She yowled in fear and struggled loose, scratching the humans by the arm as she tried to climb back onto the warm ledge where her littermates slept. At her cries, they woke and began yowling as well.
She was seized just as she got her forelegs back on the ledge, and one of the large humans tried to pull her off this time. This one had something slippery on his hands, though, and she escaped yet again. Three times they tried to seize her, and three times she escaped. Finally, though, she was growing tired. It was her time for her mid-morning nap and these humans kept on trying to place her in the dark box. She collapsed on a high shelf, panting, when she heard it...the pretty jingly noise. When the jingly noise came, she could chase the noise-maker for whole minutes on end, and sometimes when she caught it there was food or catnip. So, tired though she was, she was also hungry. She leapt off the shelf, seeking her well-earned reward for the long struggle.
She crept forward. There, finally, was the toy, held in the hand of the pet shop owner. She crouched—and more hands seized her. These were not sticky or slippery, but they had claws that pierced her and they squeezed her too tightly and they forced her into the dark place. She prepared to race out again, but the door slammed as she turned, and she could not even claw at her oppressors. She lay down and found the floor bumpy and uncomfortable. After a few tentative pokes at the door, she concluded that it would not be opened. She would have to wait to take vengeance on her captors, if they ever intended to let her out. This was, however, a depressing thought, and cats do not like depressing thoughts, so she curled up and attempted to nap.
This new place was uncomfortable and it took her a minute or two to doze off. When she finally began to snooze, she was awakened by a jolting. The cage was shaking, and knocking her around in it. She began to wail again, intending not to stop until the box remained still and the door opened. She was wailing for a long time.
When the door finally opened, she was dragged out by the sticky, dirty hands of the small humans. They poked and prodded her, making their odd, shrieking noises all the while. Then they placed her in front of some food and water. She ate and drank, grateful for the minor concession. Then, she turned to look around the prison. Before she had taken more than a few steps away, she was caught again and shoved back into the dark box.
This pattern repeated for a few days. After the first time she was forced to urinate in her litterbox, a brief trip outside was added to her routine. Her fur grew grubbier and grubbier, as she was too tired and stressed to clean it. She had no chance for escape because they were always grabbing her and pawing at her.
And then, one day, next to her food she found something similar in shape but darker in hue. It smelled edible, so she ate it. It tasted sweet and comforting, and she licked her lips and purred.
“Awwww...look...Pudding likes chocolate!”
“She ATE my chocolate!”
The routine, other than that, was unaltered. Yet the next time she was released, she immediately began sniffing out that wonderful substance. Soon, the small humans brought it to her freely, and she had no interest in other foods. She lost interest in all activities, and simply lay in her cage. She found herself vomiting like those stupid dogs when they ate grass, but the only thing she’d been eating was that amazing sweet food.
“Pudding’s been sick in her litter box three times this week! I’m going to take her to the vet.”
The cage was moving again, and this time when she was let out, it was on a ledge. For the first time in a while she thought of her siblings, and missed them, but this ledge was cold and smooth, where the other had been warm and fur-covered. There was another human there, one who smelled too clean, and the pointy-handed human. The latter one reached out and grabbed her where her mother had picked her up to carry her when she was a kitten.
“Look at this thing! It was so adorable when we got it, and now it’s sick and grotty and can’t even keep itself clean!”
The clean human reached for her, but instead of grabbing her fur, it placed one forelimb under her rear and wrapped the other around her chest and neck, stroking gently through her fur.
“It’s okay, kitten. We’ll get you cleaned up, and then we’ll make you feel better, how’s that?” She couldn’t understand the noise, but its noise along with the strokes of its paw calmed and relaxed her. “This might hurt a bit, but I’ll be right here, OK? Ma’am, I’m going to need to keep your cat overnight for observation.” The human’s noise grew louder on the last sounds, but its body was still warm and he never stopped petting her, so she didn’t mind.
Soon, the clean human (who smelled less clean now; it had her fur all over it) took her out of that area to another, brighter area. She was pleased not to see darkness, but was starting to crave the sweet-food again. She whined at it.
“It’s OK, I promise. I’ll keep you away from that mean lady. She doesn’t have the first idea how to take care of a cat. It makes me wonder for her children’s sake. I wish every call on the SPCA meant a call to social services as well, but the best I can do is help you, kitten.” Again with the noises, then the human twisted its head around to look at her. “No, you’re not a kitten, are you. But you’re too young to really be a cat. I guess I’ll call you Kit Kat.”
Then there was the unspeakable wetness, like bathing herself but with too much water and all at once. But the noise was there, and the paw. “Your fur feels like graham crackers all crumbled up. What were they doing to you?”
Then there was poking, and prodding, and sharp things in her belly, but in each case, there was also a paw, lovingly smoothing her now-clean fur, and not gripping and not pulling. Then there was sleeping, since those forelimbs seemed just the right height and angle to make a bed, and she doubted that this human would be likely to object.
After sleep-time was over, she found herself sitting on top of the human and feeling almost as if she were back in the pet store. She crawled up the human’s belly and settled by his face. She leaned forward, and began to groom it.
That day, she stayed by the clean-human at all times. It saw other cats, and dogs, and it was like the pet shop all over again, except that the human would stroke her and she was allowed to go and greet the other dogs when the human was done with them. Later that day, the human did more of the sharp things in her belly, then stroked her throat as it opened her mouth to put something in. It didn’t taste like food, but the human was murmuring more soft words to her, and so she ate it.
Then the human-with-claws came in the room. It started shrieking again, and the cat hid behind clean-human. The shrieking stopped after a while, and the cat heard a ripping sound. She looked up to see claw-human throwing a piece of paper into a round box. Then human-with-claws clicked out, sounding like it had claws at both ends.
“Come on, then, Kit Kat. Let’s take you home.” The clean human picked her up and cuddled her on the way out the door. There was no box waiting.
“So this is the poisoning case?”
“Yes. The stupid woman fed her chocolate, left her in a cage for hours on end, and the poor cat is so starved for attention that she hasn’t left my side since I first petted her. It’s like she’s never been petted before.”
“What are you going to do when the woman wants her cat back?”
“She already asked. I told her that I could report her to the SPCA and keep the cat for further treatment until the case was dealt with, or she could give me the cat in exchange for not paying my fee. She told me she hadn’t wanted ‘Pudding’ in the first place, and that she was allergic. So it’s a done deal.”
“I wish people wouldn’t buy pets they can’t take care of.”
“So do I. But enough of that. How was your trip?”
“We’re looking for a name for our newest candy line.”
“Tell me about it.”
“The candy is chocolate-covered, with wafer or cracker-like cookie on the inside.”
“I have the perfect name for it, then. How does Kit Kat sound?”
And they all lived happily ever after.
