#5: Reebooshalictivus

| November 5, 2010 | 4 Comments

Hooray, it’s Friday! I got a good response from my entry #4 (Sir Gustavus), so decided to continue this little world of house pets turned revolutionaries. In this entry, I introduce Reebooshalictivus, street cat living in poverty turned radical revolutionary. Based, of course, on my adorable little cutie kitty Reebo. Enjoy!

Night after night he’d emerge from the sandy underbelly of the market shops on Main Street, just as the elite had decided they’d had their fill of beefy loins and fresh fish for the day. The rich and richer would look to the sky to see the sun deteriorating, a sign that the Ferals would soon take over the streets of the small village. Not long after, the upper class would be tucked into their homes, drinking and laughing of the day’s happenings.

Reebooshalictivus had brains that the rest of his kind did not posses. He was adept at surviving on his own. He’d never needed a pack to roam with to ensure there was food. He’d brave the Felines calling in the members of the guard to carry him off to the Shelter, should he be spotted in daylight. Most nights, he’d leave his hiding spot under the shops at twilight, giving him first choice of all the discarded waste that had been left in the garbage pails and alley ways. He may have been at the bottom of the food chain between those in the Kingdom, the Felines and the Hawkes, but Reebooshalictivus  was a survivor in every sense of the word.

Ever since he was small, he could remember his parents living in fear. They had instilled in him the way of things. The Kingdom were top dog, playing up their pretension by constantly reminding the lands around them of their places. They were evil, hunting down Feline or Feral, it mattered not. With these teachings came a learned resentment of the Felines; Reebooshalictivus couldn’t understand how one people could divide themselves when there was a greater threat at hand. A threat that had been omnipresent for generations, and likely generations to come if no one would stand tall. For now, Reebooshalictivus would have to accept that his people were divided. One class had become two, and the world had run rampant with tyranny and abuse because of it.

As he would soon learn, things can only be pushed so far before revolution is thrust upon you. You can either back away in cowardice or step up and take charge.

One evening as Reebooshalictivus rounded the corner to an alleyway he had never explored before, he stumbled upon a pack of Ferals, whom he initially paid no attention to. Minding his business and content in leaving them be, he backtracked with the intent of inspecting the next block. As he rounded the corner, a raucous cacophony of shrill shrieks penetrated his chipped ears, causing his thinning hair stand on its end. He darted back to the alley, only to find the horrid site of his kinsman tearing each other at the seams over a half eaten chicken bone. Hair was strewn every which way, eyes gouged, bodies pierced.

“My kin!” shouted Reebooshalictivus, as loud as he could. “Brothers! Sisters! Madness!”

With his words reaching deaf ears, Reebooshalictivus dashed forward into the scuffle. Almost immediately, he was hit with a stray claw, directly to his chest. The puncture was deep and hard, taking the breath out of him. He slammed to the ground, the blood pouring steadily from the wound. As he lay for a moment, waiting to regain his wits, the night air went soft and silent. There were no more cries. The fighting had ceased.

Reebooshalictivus slowly rose to his paws. The sight of the battle’s aftermath was more painful than any physical abuse could have possibly mustered up. There before him were the bodies of his kinsman, battered and broken, the half eaten chicken bone laying between them. Division amongst one people was, apparently, not enough; instead the subclasses now required breaking.

That was the moment that Reebooshalictivus realized he’d had enough. Enough infighting, enough division. It was a time for unity. And it was unity he would bring.

Category: Fantasy

About the Author ()

Joey is a writer and hoarder of nerd things from New England, currently living existence outside of New York City. He often attends rhythmic ceremonial rituals and gambles away his hard earned money. Currently he’s working on his first novel while creating comics and developing the social writing website Social Pulp, which will be going live by the end of the year. He also serves as the Comics Channel Editor for the major pop culture website CraveOnline. You can find him on Twitter, or e-mail him a lengthy diatribe voicing your utter disgust.

Comments (4)

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  1. Jande Rowe says:

    Love this story. Makes me want to draw it. :`)

  2. Meggi says:

    He is so noble.

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