Tygr vs. Insekt Kungfu

Mom Says:

Agent Octavian ran, and Perro and Alek followed, Alek burdened both by his lack of a second set of legs and by the large, spaced-out cat in his arms. As they ran, Octavian remembered what his mother had said about making noise when you fight: either keep all your breath to run or fight, or scream bloody murder and scare the poop out of your opponent. But no half measures, ever.

He raced down the hallway and up a set of stairs, up toward sunlight. Even as he ran, a tiny voice in his brain informed him quite calmly that neither he nor his friends had previously set foot or scent on these particular stairs, so when he reached the top and burst out of the doorway into the shrine’s internal courtyard, to see, across the pavement, a Chinese monk standing on one leg in a Praying Mantis pose, he had already decided what to do.

“Ovr the wall!” he screeched, and launched himself at the poor shmo whose only fault was to pick the wrong time to work out on his kung fu form. Even as he leaped!, screamed, and dragged his front claws across the guy’s belly, he heard Perro bark out, “Vista Granada! Avenidas de los Gatos! We meetchu therrrr!”

But Octavian had no time to acknowledge Perro’s call or even take note of how they were escaping, so caught up was he in his fight with this warrior monk who had long studied the ways of the Praying Mantis and was now taking it all out on someone about one-tenth his weight. In the micro-seconds Octavian had for reflection, he did realize that he was at an unexpected advantage with this young man, given that Octavian had always assumed he might have a human opponent, but apparently, this fellow had never considered that he might have to face a cat in combat.

So, like a good kittee, he did what his mom had told him to do: “When in doubt, go berserk. Then run!”

He never did find out what damage he inflicted on his foe, because he was scrambling up and over the wall and racing through the sparse underbrush along the highway between Malaga and Granada. And even as he raced, tail like a lightning bolt behind him, he wondered, “Whut am I spost to do about Sabaka?”