Name: Casimir NecalliGender: Male
Personality: Casimir doesn't seem to care much if his actions hurt others, so long as they progress his worldview and his goals forward, he's fine committing any atrocity that he needs to so that he can succeed in life. Egocentric and a cheater at any game he plays, Casimir tends to have a problem with stealing, breaking and entering, and just getting into trouble in general with the law. Because he's so suave, Casimir is very good at slipping out of his criminal deeds, though, Casimir lives a fairly normal day-to-day life... excluding his monstrous deeds at night, that is. Casimir pays off the police who get after him, and to those police he can't buy, he manages to always stay one step ahead of them. Working under the cover of darkness, Casimir always does his worst deeds at night. By day, Casimir seems to be a normal Feather Boa, a fashionista in charge of a game-show. However, his true interests he keeps hidden until he's under disguise and in darkness.
Somewhere in between a
Chaotic Evil and a
Neutral Evil on the Alignment Scale, Casimir doesn't care much what others think. Like any TV star, Casimir has his fair share of haters - some of which are even his family members! - but he ignores them outwardly while inwardly besmirches them. If Casimir had the choice between helping an ailing family member or friend or getting the job of his dreams, he'd choose the job in a heartbeat. He doesn't care much for family and friends, and has no qualms about ditching them and pursuing other paths to further advance his career. Because he doesn't care about the well-being of others, Casimir doesn't have close friends, nor any family, that he can trust. He only trusts himself, and Casimir wouldn't have it any other way.
If his city were being invaded by weirdos, Casimir would choose to bribe the enemy with money, or take a bribe from the enemy to be a double-agent or spy - he'd do whatever necessary to keep himself alive. Likewise, if there was some odd drought and Casimir needed food, he'd stockpile up his resources, steal what was necessary to survive, and keep to himself, not sharing his wealth or food with others.
If he's ever hurt or in danger, Casimir knows he can't rely on others to come to his aid. He's on his own in every area of life, and he'd rather fix up his own wounds than be tended to by someone else and owe them a debt. He has this odd idea that any kind act done towards him MUST be repaid in full to whomever did the act for him. If someone holds open a door, Casimir has to hold open a door for them, or the good deed will nag at him until he's made it right. Additionally, he's been approached about spying on his own town by foreign agents, and unless the situation ultimately calls for such a deed, Casimir generally refuses to work with them, believing that he could get caught in the act and then be subject to having to deal with the police or laws of the land. Casimir might be evil, but he still has a code of personal conduct to follow!
While he's been approached about running for public office before, Casimir just can't see himself as likable enough to do so. Additionally, he wouldn't want the responsibility of running a country or town - Casimir deals with enough stress living his double-life, so he knows that any choice that results in additional strain on himself would not be a wise choice to make.
A high believer in the idea that "If I can't defend it myself, I don't deserve to have it," Casimir owns little and what he does own he keeps under lock and key, tucked away so that if he ever gets robbed or roughed-up by other Feather Boas with grudges against him that they don't find what is truly important to him. He has a basement in his house that he's cleverly hidden away through a series of false-starts and weird trapdoors - to actually find the basement with the treasures under his home would take a genius's mind! Only Casimir has memorized the correct route to get through the maze, and he plans on keeping it that way; a secret is only a secret if one individual keeps it. Any more than one, and the secret is no longer so valuable.
Casimir does fairly well under some pressure - but too much, and he might just crack! Often feeling superior to other Feather Boas, Casimir struggles to find commonality with the general Feather Boa out and about in his or her day-to-day life. Casimir often over-analyzes others, and starts making up off-putting descriptions of them all so that he ultimately feels better about himself. He finds it hard to relate to how others feel, as Casimir is always just concerned with his personal well-being and how he feels about subjects. He cares not for others' opinions or cares or sensitivities.
He doesn't mind if he's the center of attention, as Casimir is a star. He enjoys the spotlight, and doesn't mind at all if every eye is turned towards him. He also believes that adaptability is much better than being organized and having methodological plans planned out, so Casimir tends to adapt to situations more than act in a set pattern. This is a perfect attitude for a TV game show host to have, so Casimir has many followers and admirers, hence why he has to disguise himself at night so that he is not recognized, and his two lives remain in their separate boxes.
A natural
ESTP-A, Casimir is not a team-player and doesn't tend to work well with others. He believes that being right is better than having good teamwork, so if he disagrees with those he hangs around, he doesn't generally keep his comments to himself... unless those who he happens to be around are individuals he knows he needs to keep quiet around, in which case he'll button his lip and keep his snide opinions to himself.
Extras: Theme Songs:Macavity: The Mystery Cat - CATS and
They Need a Monster - MandoPonyStory:NOTE: I know the original species info states that Feather Boas live in "rain forests and tropical climates," but because this Feather Boa's reference picture (seen above) doesn't have a background that looks tropical, I figured I'd place him in a colder environment, but give him clothes to stay warm. He also has pretty thick fur by the look of his design, so I figured that mane would keep him fairly warm. Also, because his personality isn't friendly or good or normal, I chose to have him dwell underground instead of in trees, like most Feather Boas do. I hope this is okay - if it's not, then I'll try my best to change it!Casimir is a fiend-in-disguise. A TV star by day and a monster by night, Casimir has successfully swayed every Feather Boa that knows him into believing he's just a jerk at work. They know nothing of his disastrous deeds after the sun sets. Excellent at swaying others to his point of view, he doesn't have a problem being bad or evil or acting in his own best interests. Casimir has been through a lot in life, but that doesn't excuse his bad behavior of today...though Casimir believes himself above reproach, and thinks that he is beholden to no law and no individual.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:Macavity's a mystery cat,
He's called "the hidden paw,"
For he's the master criminal
Who can defy the law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard,
The Flying Squad's despair,
For when they reach the scene of crime,
Macavity's not there!
One day, Casimir trotted along the snow-covered path, shivering as he rushed to get to work. He held the jacket closer to his chilled body, wondering if it would ever warm up. The winter had dragged on long enough - he wanted to be able to wear jackets for fashion's sake, not for need alone!
As he rounded the corner, Casimir scented something odd. With a quizzical tilt of his head, he stared blindly down the alleyway, pondering whether or not he should step in. Some poor sap was getting robbed.
After waiting only a moment, Casimir shrugged and continued to dash on ahead. "If I'm not to work in time, no one will be happy with me," he muttered, casting the thought of what he'd just witnessed far from his mind.
He arrived at work a few minutes later, just on time as he clocked in. He smirked as he tossed his coat to the boy trailing behind him, as the boy was known to do. Casimir didn't care for the kid at all, but the small Feather Boa was always there before Casimir showed up and was always there long after Casimir left. The elder Feather Boa wondered if the child lived at the studio, but wouldn't dream of asking such personal questions to the Feather Boas who were nothing more to him than flying gnats. The boy was useful, sometimes, however - he'd get Casimir coffees or teas, or really whatever Casimir asked for, and he'd get them for him quick. Even though the boy had been there nearly as long as Casimir had been, the elder Feather Boa had never bothered to ask his name - he just called on him whenever he needed something...as he found himself needing now. "Boy!"
He didn't appear.
With a huff and a toss of his head of hair, he snarled to the nearest Feather Boa, "Where is the scout?"
She swallowed nervously. "He's just putting your cloak away, sir. He'll be right back." She then scurried off, not wanting to get on Casimir's bad side. (There was a rumor, after all, that he could be a rather prissy primadonna if he ever got angry enough.)
Casimir huffed in distaste. "And when I actually NEED the poor excuse for a - Oh, good, you've returned." He smelled the boy's acrid scent and had used echolocation to discern where he was standing. "Get me my pair of shiny shoes, please. We're on air in an hour, and I want those shoes SPARKLING, do you hear me? Just because I can't see them doesn't mean the audience can't!"
The boy nodded and darted off without a word.
An hour later, the show was on the air. Casimir's shoes had been shined to perfection, and his coat sparkled in the shimmering lights as he smiled into the camera - not that he could see anything. He'd become adept at using echolocation to get around - it was almost as if he could see, and rarely had problems walking into others or dealing with bumping into walls. He knew where everything was, and almost always acted like a normal, seeing individual - except when it came to his clothes, which were picked out ahead of time by a team he ordered around. "Welcome one and all to the hottest game show on the market! For those of you ingrates just tuning in who aren't familiar with our stupendous show, let me break it down for you. On 'Lick the Pony, Win the Prize,' gameplay is simple: I walk out the contestants, who have the choice to either answer a trivia question correctly or lick a pony. If they lick the pony and the pony whinnies, they advance a round. If they get the trivia question correct, they advance a round. Fail to do either of these things, and they're instantly eliminated. If you're stupid, you'll probably be lost. Oh well. Follow along or switch to another channel - I don't care either way." With a smirk, he twirled around to introduce the contestants. "First off we have...um, sorry, but...who are you?"
The contestant looked appalled. "I'm Mrs. Miffleton, star of the hit TV reality show -"
Casimir waved a dismissive paw. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. And you, sir?"
The male standing next to Mrs. Miffleton looked miffed. "I'm her husband."
"Ah, pleased to meet you, Mr. Miffleton. Why are you playing the game today if your wife is so filthy rich?"
The in-studio audience chuckled.
Mr. Miffleton looked peeved at the host's jovial disposition and dismissive actions, but calmed down a bit as he spoke. "Because we're trying to earn up enough money to give to this really great charity that both my wife and I are passionate about. It's about trying to cure child cancer, and we care very deeply about the children, as our own child, Nathaniel, survived childhood cancer. The name of the organization is -"
"Oh, pish-posh. Names aren't important. Let's meet our other contestants!" Casimir swooped over to the other side of the stage, mic at the ready, with a devilish look on his features. He'd have fun tormenting these unknowing Feather Boas. He'd have it his way - no one ever won on his game show, and he made sure of that every day he sauntered through the doors and came into work.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity!
He's broken every human law,
He breaks the law of gravity!
His powers of levitation would make a faker stare...
But when you reach the scene of crime,
Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement,
You may look up in the air...
But I tell you once and once again:
Macavity's not there!
That night as he walked home, he drew his cloak tighter around him. The cloak was special - to the outward observer, it appeared as an atrocious color of green, bright and stark and easily-definable. But what most didn't know was the jacket-cloak was reversible. The inside of the cloak was black as night, with small navy blue patches sewn into the arms for ease of movement and so as to make the material not so stiff it would rip at the harsher motions Casimir would make during his nighttime activities. This was the side of the jacket-cloak that was exposed now to the outward elements, the cold but harsh snow swirling down onto Casimir's perfectly coiffed mane. It showed off the snow much more easily than the reverse side would have, but this blackened side hid Casimir's identity a bit better, as most knew him as wearing bright, bold colors - absolutely NO ONE would even think it was him if he were wearing such a depressing shade of black as he was on that night. He'd learned about the cloak's interesting traits one day when he felt the difference in fabric from the inside to the outside. The inner dark shell was harder and stiffer, whereas the outer shell was a comfortable, soft fabric. He'd strangled one of his assistants into telling him about what it looked like, and she was so frightened he was sure he'd gotten correct information. Also, no one had noticed him when he wore it dark-side-out, so he had reason to believe his assistant hadn't lied to him.
He knocked over three trashcans on his way home. He didn't bother picking them back up and continued to pad quickly off into the night. As he rounded the corner to get back to his street, he scented the same mugger he'd sensed earlier that day. With a sigh, he crossed the street and walked on the opposite side of the road. He wasn't in the mood to fight anyone tonight. He reached deep into his pockets and threw his trash on the ground as he walked towards the gate that surrounded his yard. A very faint scent just at the corner of his nose made him pause. He used echolocation and caught slight movement at the corner of his eyes which made him start, but only momentarily. It was a poor orphan child, paws out for handouts from community members. The kid shivered in the cold, hat slung low over the child's features, covering the child's face from the cold winter snow swirling down faster and harder as the storm picked up speed. Casimir didn't pause as he blazed on past the child. He felt the change in his pocket and knew he had enough to get him through the week, and he probably could have chosen to give the poor kid some assistance, but Casimir refused to do that. If no one was out to help him get through life, why would he just give handouts to those poor miserable wretches who didn't want to work for themselves? Since he'd never had any help, he'd refuse his services to those who needed help from him.
He reached his large abode, slid the key into the gate, and unlocked it. He darted in, locked the iron gate behind him, and sighed in contentment. He knew he was safe behind the ten-foot tall gate that surrounded his entire home. He trotted up to the door, turned off the security system, opened said door, and then turned the security system back on, hearing the bolts in the door automatically slide into place as the door latched.
Within minutes, he was heading down the stairs into his wooden-walled basement, drink in-paw as he trotted briskly down the corridor at the base of the staircase. His velvet bathrobe felt nice against his freezing fur, the reversible jacket turned back to its normal state and hung up in the hall closet, ready for his work day the next morning. He then entered the maze, taking each turn expertly. He'd memorized the route years ago after he'd created the maze himself. He reached the exit and smiled as he entered his room of treasures. Paintings and tapestries hung from the walls from golden hooks, and red-rubied chalices lined the shelves nailed into the walls. Alongside the cups of silver and gold were emerald-encrusted broaches, cameos, and other jewelry items. Casimir couldn't see any of this, of course - but he knew it was real and impressive. He could still admire the tapestries and chalices even if he couldn't discern their colors. He'd bought them for a hefty price - well, the two that he actually HAD bought, anyways. The rest he'd filched from a variety of Feather Boas, and one he'd found when he knocked over a trashcan in haste as he'd hurried home one day. He smiled as he stared at his hard work of crime, displayed so beautifully on the walls. Even though he'd had to use his sensitive paws to figure out the tactile differences between the emeralds and rubies and that he'd had to lick the gold and silver to taste the differences, he was pretty sure he'd gotten them all lined up correctly using his echolocation. Once he'd spent some time admiring them in their shades of blue and grey and black - the only colors his echolocation saw - he yawned sleepily. He'd been hatching a plan for awhile now, but for it to all go smoothly, he had to get some good sleep, first. He curled up on his chase lounge, and then stretched as he kneaded against the leopard-print fabric with his claws. Casimir finished his drink and placed the goblet gently on the ground, soon falling fast asleep.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:Macavity's a ginger cat,
He's very tall and thin.
You would know him if you saw him,
For his eyes are sunken in;
His brow is deeply lined with thought;
His head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect;
His whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side-to-side
With movements like a snake...
And when you think he's half asleep,
He's always wide awake!
Casimir went through life much like this for several weeks with absolutely nothing going wrong. Besides a few angry losers on his gameshow, not many hated him. At least, not many hated him that made his life miserable. His life was good. He made a great paycheck which he picked up once-a-month, and he got to speak his mind to anybody he pleased at work, never having to stay silent for fear of having an opposing opinion. He raked in the dough, paid for his house, and bought new paintings and gourmet food with the money left over. When Feather Boas weren't looking he'd steal more jewelry, among which were some prized pearls that would fit nicely into his plan. Everything was going perfectly for him...
Until one night when he was walking home from work. It was still snowing, though not as heavily as it had in the past. Winter was nearly over, and Casimir was pleased the sun would be coming out soon. His hair would no longer suffer the consequences of so much hairspray needed to keep it upright in the stormy weather his region had had lately.
An officer suddenly stopped Casimir dead in his tracks. "What are you doing around these parts, sir?"
Casimir glanced around, using his echolocation at a speed he didn't know he could use it as, realizing with a start that in his haste to get home, he'd walked down a wrong street. "Well, my home is just over there," he said, pointing with his tail in the direction of his house.
"Oh, really? Let's see you walk me to it, then."
Casimir sighed, turned tail, and trotted over to his home, the officer hot on his trail. He slid the key into the lock and unlocked it, slipping inside quickly and locking it once again. Addressing the officer safely behind his gate, he smirked. "Thanks for the walk home, officer."
The policeman was not amused. "If I catch you doing anything suspicious again, mark my words -"
Casimir laughed. "Suspicious? What was so suspicious about walking down a simple street?"
His eyes narrowed. "That so-called 'simple street' is one of the most dangerous in the city. No one goes down that street unless they have ulterior motives."
Casimir just shook his head as he turned to go indoors. "Sure thing, officer. I won't make that mistake again," he said cheerfully, a fake smile plastered onto his face. Once he'd gotten inside and bolted the door shut, he waited for the policeman to leave. He eventually did, and Casimir's eyes turned to slits as he breathed out a huff. "If I run into you again, Mr. Officer, YOU'LL be the one regretting your choice of employment, not me."
He didn't sleep that night. He stayed awake all through the hours, planning his master idea. It was nearly to completion, and no one would stand in his way once his nefarious plan was hatched.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity!
For he's a fiend in feline shape,
A monster of depravity!
You may meet him in a by-street,
You may see him in the square...
But when a crime's discovered
Then Macavity's not there!
The boy was at it again, speaking when not spoken to. "Sir, have you heard about the recent bombings on fifth street?"'
Casimir huffed as he powdered his nose. "Scout, I don't care about whatever sissy little thing everyone's scared of. It won't happen."
"No, sir, you misunderstand. You live near fifth street, don't you?"
"Why do you ask, boy?"
The boy averted his gaze. "Between the recent muggings going on and now the bombs... well, the real-estate over there isn't the safest place to be livin', sir."
"Are you suggesting I up and move after I've worked all of my life to live where I do now?" he spat at the boy. "Besides, it's not as if anyone was hurt in those bombings, right? They were just done to abandoned buildings."
"I suppose so, sir... but still, I worry you mightn't show up to work one of these days, sir. I don't want you to die, sir, and -"
Casimir suddenly roared, throwing a plastic bottle of water at the boy. "Get out of here before I give you the boot! Scram!"
The boy raced off, heart pounding in fear. He didn't want to get kicked again, as had happened just last week around the time the first bomb went off on fifth street - Casimir hadn't been in a good mood that day and nearly every Feather Boa who'd worked with him had given him a very wide berth. The boy had made the error of getting a bit too friendly with Casimir and, well, his backside was still sore from Casimir's shiny black shoes kicking him harshly to get him to move out of the way faster.
Casimir arrived home late that night, nearly midnight. The moon was full in the sky. He closed the curtains so as to lessen the light streaming in through the open windows - he didn't want prying eyes to see what he was up to. Casimir wound his way through the tunnels under his house that spat him into the lounge once more. He smiled as he sunk into his plush velvet wing-back chair. He glanced over at the table next to him. Using echolocation once again, he remembered and saw there was a small silver controller on it, with a few small red buttons and shiny black switches. Casimir smirked as he stared at the controller and murmured, "To think the boy was actually scared about me getting hurt. What a pansy he is." He laughed as he downed another drink, his sixth that night. "If only he knew who was really behind all the weird happenings of this place, then he'd be more scared for his own life instead of the mastermind behind it all."
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:He's outwardly respectable.
I know he cheats - at cards.
And his footprints are not found in any files of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted,
Or the jewel case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing,
Or another peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken
And the trellis past repair,
There's the wonder of the thing:
Macavity's not there.
Casimir awoke early one morning, the darkness still clinging to the world as he rolled off of the chase lounge, the soft leopard fabric worn after so many sleepless nights spent tossing and turning. His plan was nearly in effect, and he'd start small happenings on this fateful day.
He checked the clock.
Two in the morning. Perfect. He smiled as he got lost in his thoughts, throwing on the blackened cloak-jacket thing - he never quite knew what to categorize it as, as it had a long flowing aspect like a cloak but still had sleeves like a jacket - and a specialized cap to cover his head, but still left access to his large ears so he could use echolocation to find what was around him.
First I go to the TV repair shop... then I stop by the grocer's... then I make a very brief pause by the dog groomer's... and then, that final lovely stop. That final, beautiful stop.And then, he was off.
He darted off into the night, silent as the snow that was surely melting upon the ground. Spring was nearly upon the city, and Casimir knew his tracks would be melted by mid-day when the police started their rounds on the side of the town he would be frequenting. Plus, he'd made positively certain no one would be able to track him - he wore a pair of his father's ugly shoes that were as uncomfortable as anything he'd ever worn in his life to be certain that his tracks would not be able to be traced back to the lavish boots or shiny black shoes he normally wore.
His first stop was the TV repair shop. Run by an odd wolf creature, Casimir had often wondered what such a weird wolf was doing in a town nearly entirely populated by Feather Boas. There were rumors that the wolf would soon move, as business had been dropping lately. There were always weird splotches of sticky paint over everything, and Casimir had surmised that the odd wolf who ran the place also painted in his spare time, but he really hadn't put much thought into this theory. It didn't matter to his plan, anyhow, if the wolf did or didn't paint in his spare time. Casimir had no need for a TV repair shop, though, as he had his own personal TV repairman. He thought that the wolf should just give up and move to a better location. To make this point clear, he grabbed a brick and smashed it into the window. The alarm was quickly cut short by a pair of pliers Casimir held in his gloved paws, and he then got to work smashing every TV in sight, throwing parts around the shop and making an absolute mess of things. By the time he'd left the shop it was 3am, as his vocalized wristwatch told him. The repair shop was now in need of serious renovation, as it appeared that a bomb had gone off inside. Wrenches, pliers, and other tools were sticking out from the ceiling, and parts were embedded into the walls. Glass portions of the TVs had been smashed and rammed into the cork floor and stuck up at odd angles. Casimir took only a few blissful seconds to survey his work, and then dashed off to his next appointment.
He trotted into the grocery store, throwing a hood over his face and head before he trotted in so as to disguise himself further from security tapes and cameras. He'd memorized where everything was, so he didn't have need of his echolocation, here. With a flick of his wrist, he hit the button on the remote strapped to his belt and the security cameras for almost a fourth of the store were suddenly turned off. With a smirk hidden deep beneath the several layers he wore, he waited for the grocer to leave him alone - he listened for his footsteps walking away. Once the coast was clear, he attacked the shelving with a ferocity very few had ever seen. He snarled with glee as his claws tore through boxes of cereal, his swooping tail knocking cans of soup from the aisles. Casimir almost cackled but stifled back his laughter as he raced around, quietly destroying the store.
3:30am was when he left the grocer's, and he hit the button to turn the cameras back on as he raced off to the next place.
The dog groomer's happened to be that next place. It was almost 4am when Casimir clicked the security cameras off. It wasn't open at this hour of the morning, and with a smash of a crowbar against the door, Casimir was in. He grabbed each shampoo and conditioner bottle, emptied the contents, and filled them with different drops of food coloring and glue that he'd stashed in his pockets. He could tell the difference between the liquids not based on feel, but on scent. The shampoos and conditioners were flowery in small, whereas the food coloring was acrid and bitter smelling, and the glue had a sour, pungent smell to it. He then lubed each comb and hairbrush with different streaks of color so that they'd dye the pooches' pelts different colors. For a final touch, he quickly taped a baggie of flour to each of the hair-dryers so that each dog would get a coating of flour on a sticky, dyed coat. With luck, they'd all appear to be fluffy sheep by the time they were done being groomed and washed.
He cackled as he spray-painted the camera to the security feed, clicking it back on once he'd exited safely. Even on and recording, it would only see blackness until a new system was bought and installed. The hardcore, gasoline-smelling paint he'd used had verified that.
He was cutting it close with his final appointment. It was nearly 4:30am, and he'd only have half an hour to do what needed to be done at the location and then race home to sleep a few hours before needing to get to work. With a smirk of success, he swept down the street, cloak billowing out behind him, cap long gone after he'd ditched it at the grocer's in a trashcan. He reached the clothing store successfully and nipped into the building through an old air vent. He didn't bother with security feeds - the store was behind on technology, and only had one floor monitored: the children's section. Casimer could tell by the lack of humming from the cameras - there were none in most areas. The only floor that slightly sounded like cameras was the third floor up, and Casimir didn't care about that floor, and stuck to the other ones instead. Casimir took a pair of scissors to each of the most expensive dresses and suits in the building. He never bought from chain stores, so he felt accomplished at this act of vandalism. He slunk out the way he'd come in, right as the clock struck 5am.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity!
There never was a cat of such
Deceitfulness and suavity!
He always has an alibi...
And one or two to spare!
Whatever time the deed took place,
Macavity wasn't there!
A bit more tired than usual at work, Casimir downed four cups of coffee and asked the scout for three more teas before the clock had even chimed 12pm noon. The scout was in a sour mood today, but dared not let it show to his superior - he knew he'd be punished for any problems that arose, so he did his best to stay on Casimir's good side, today above all days.
The news hit the building right before the lunch break at 1pm. The entire staff surrounded the only TV they were allowed to use for recreational purposes, Casimir standing at the back, doing his best to sip his hot tea and not smirk mischievously. He didn't need to see it to know what was going on - he could hear just fine.
The police had no idea how to explain the weird happenings that had all occurred one after the other in the night... or early morning, for all they knew. The dog groomer's happened to be closed on this day, so it was not included in the reports as absolutely no one had any idea anything was wrong with that place. All the other stops Casimir had made were extensively reported on.
The boss closed up work early that day, advising all the Feather Boas who worked there to get home and stay under lock and key until the police found out who was doing all of this crazy stuff.
As they were leaving, the scout looked up at Casimir, tentatively speaking as he weighed his words out, seeming to taste them as they exited his small mouth. "Sir... some of the vandalism was close to your home, wasn't it? Aren't you frightened they might target your home next?"
"I'm not frightened, no. It was late night or early morning, so don't you think I was asleep asleep while all of this happened? Why then should I be frightened?"
The boy nodded, mumbled something, and then darted off. He threw over his shoulder, "Have a good day, sir."
Casimir just smiled to himself. He knew he'd never be found out.
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:And they say that all the cats
Whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie;
I might mention Griddlebone.)
Are nothing more than agents
For the cat who all the time
Just controls the operations:
The Napoleon of crime!
Casimir lounged on his chase. He smiled to himself as he drank his tea, a small amount of whisky added for flavor. "Stage one: complete. Stage two: to be commenced next month." He glanced over at the map on the wall that he'd drawn. He trotted over to it and pinned a few tacks in place, connecting them with strings. The red tacks were places he'd already dealt with: one was at the dog groomer's, one at the grocer's, one at the fashion-forward clothing place, and one at the TV repair shop. A set of black tacks were scattered elsewhere: some around various parks and lakes in the area, some in neighborhoods, and some in abandoned warehouses. Finally, there were a few oddly placed tacks that he continued to move around. "Stage three," he murmured as he picked up one and placed it on a different place on the map, "is still a long ways off."
Macavity: The Mystery Cat wrote:Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity!
He's a fiend in feline shape,
A monster of depravity!
You may meet him in a by-street,
You may see him in the square
But when a crime's discovered,
Then Macavity-
Macavity!
Macavity!
Macavity!
When a crime's discovered,
Then Macavity's not there!
The next night as he lay in bed, he turned over and picked up the picture on the nightstand beside him. Engraved around the perimeter was a braille sentence, which he ran his sensitive paws over, reading it. Casimir kissed it gently, placing it back where it belonged a few minutes later. "I miss you, darling. You went to a better place, and now I do this all for you." He smiled as he rolled over, using echolocation to spot his map on the wall once again and admiring his work briefly before yawning. "Soon, my dear. Soon I will have my revenge upon the city that did you in. Soon they will know my wrath and remember you for an eternity. I promise."
