Emily and her tail have been known to have their differences. Early this morning, while Emily was still in a deep slumber, her tail developed a few radical ideas about what kind of behavior was appropriate during such a time. Curling, twisting, thumping, and leaping, it was as active as Emily was stoically unmoved.
Unlike in pervious interactions, there were no perceptible hos(tail)ities and events did not escalate as they have in the past to the level of an inter(cat)ional incident. After apparently tiring itself out, Emily's tail rejoined the rest of her body in total and complete rest. This rest remained in effect until it was voluntarily broken for a round of pre-breakfast stretching.
While at rest today, Emily felt something tickling the sensitive hairs inside her ear. It is unknown if it was an errant bit of dust, a sudden wind, or one of her own hairs that perpetrated the intrusion. Whatever it was, Emily knew she was more than a match for its nefarious plans. She didn't even need to deploy her paws to deal with the unexpected intruder. Deftly flicking her ear, she artfully dislodged whatever had caused her the momentary discomfort and continued resting as though nothing had happened. The moral of the story is: If something gets in your ear, rather than totally freaking out about it and being all like, "OH MY GOD THERE IS SOMETHING IN MY EAR GET IT OUT GET IT OUT LIFE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME I AM SO INCONVENIENCED AAAAHHHHHHH" maybe just flap your ear and it will take care of everything. There is probably a larger lesson about life in there, but I'll leave that for you to find.
Emily is rejoicing in the conclusion of her foray into the shady world of noir. Unleashed and back to her usual technicolor ways she decided to celebrate by taking some time out of her busy feline schedule to wash her face and "hands." Deciding to make an occasion of it, she put together the three main elements that make any face/hand washing experience ideal:
First, she identified a soft place to curl up. This was easy. A fuzzy blue blanket is all you need and she found one fast. Second, she made sure that she didn't just sit anywhere on the blanket, but found a spot in the sun. Warm sun is an essential element to the ideal cleaning session. And third, she made sure that this was a warm sunny spot that wasn't going anywhere so that when she was done with her cleaning, she could curl up and go straight to sleep. Mobile spots (laps, piles of laundry etc.) comfy as they may be, carry the unfortunate side effect of being impermanent. With the three elements in place, Emily got to work.
Noir week comes to a close a little more than a week after it began. Today, the thrilling conclusion of Emily's investigation! We will return to regular Slow Mo Cat posting tomorrow. To catch up on the previous installments of Noir Cat, here are all the links you need:
James stopped the car outside of a small warehouse with several broken windows, tarnished brickwork and a sign that warned "No Trespassing." James and I got out of the car and as we did, I heard a voice call out, "That's far enough!"
I heard the cold click of a gun being cocked. I looked up. The early morning sky was grey; the clouds from the night before barely shot through with the rays of a low hanging, wintery sun. My eyes wandered over the facade of the building. Then I saw it. The tip of a long-barreled gun, and a glinting eye behind it. I could see the vague outline of a man, a shadow just darker than the blackness behind him. I heard three more clicks and saw more gun barrels appear.
I didn't move a muscle. I didn't even tense. I knew one move and they would shoot just to see me die. I opened my mouth to say something, but the voice spoke again: "I'm sending someone out to say hello. You don't move, and you don't speak until they check you out."
I remained still, showing no sign of fear. I wanted to glance at James. Somehow I hadn't thought to ask him what was going to happen once we got here or what else he knew about this gang and its leader.
After what felt like an hour but was probably only a few seconds, the rusted metal door to the warehouse opened and a familiar thin face appeared. He strode toward us quickly and, when he reached us, patted down James, looked at me and, seeing that I couldn't very well be hiding anything in my fur, motioned for us to go into the building. James started as if to enter, but I decided enough was enough.
"We're alright out here. You've got all your guys with guns to keep you safe, come on out and deal George."
I kept my eyes trained on the window where the gun and the shadow where sitting. I saw the barrel twitch. I hoped it wasn't his finger tightening on the trigger. After a pause, the voice said, "Alright."
Another wait, and the scarred man came striding out the door and I got my first real look at George Gracious. I would find out later that George Gracious was not his real name. His parents were from somewhere in Europe originally. They were very poor and, when they realized that they were going to have a baby, decided it was time to make a fresh start in the new world. George's father worked every job he could find and, as soon as they had the money for boat fare, they made the voyage. George was born in the Atlantic ocean, mid-way between London and New York and given the name Alexander Krynganofski. He grew up poor and ashamed.
The story goes that as soon as he learned how to add in first grade, he was finding creative ways to make money. From schoolyard shakedowns to racetrack shenanigans, the Krynganofski kid was known throughout the neighborhood as a tough young guy with a head on his shoulders and a savvy nose for a good score. Then he vanished. Five years later, he came back. He was taller, fitter, well-dressed, and he wanted to be called George Gracious. He soon got together a small organization and, within a year, was one of the major crime bosses in the city. It was in the middle of that year, during his heady ascent, that James and I crossed his path at a warehouse that was soon to be known (and feared) throughout the city.
When he first appeared, I was struck by how tall he was. His pinstriped suit was clearly well made. Spotless from head to toe, his clothes gave off the air of a floor too good to walk on, or a lawn to perfect for walking. They shouldn't be worn, at least not by the man inside them.
He walked up to us without saying a word. He stared at James for a full thirty seconds before bending down to look at me. I know I'm not an imposing figure. I stand at 2ft nothing on my good days. But George Gracious made the mistake of looking me in the eyes. Ever since I was young, people have been telling me about my eyes. They are a little large and very green and I have always know now to use them. I can stare down anyone and anything. When George Gracious tried to give me the intimidation treatment, I just stared back at him. I could see he was unnerved. I don't think he'd had anyone do that for a little while.
"I think I have something of yours." I said, breaking the building silence. With that, I dropped the cufflink at his feet. Make him bend down and reach for it if he wanted it back. He did bend down and pick it up. As he did I saw a flash on his wrist and saw the cufflink's twin. He hadn't changed everything since the night before. Realizing his shirt might have been exposed when he reached down, he quickly covered his wrist with his other hand. No sooner had he inspected the cufflink than, to my surprise, he dropped it again.
"Never seen it before in my life."
With that, he turned on his heel, and, with his thin faced man following, they went back into the warehouse. There was the soft "click, click, click" as the gun barrels were taken back from the windows. The door slammed behind George and his henchman, and James and I were left standing in the early morning light with more questions than answers. The sunrise was hidden by the clouds and the grey cloak of dawn hung over the city. The leafless trees skeletal fingers rattled against the cold sky, and the broken hulk of the warehouse loomed like a concrete monster poised to swallow us whole. The night had gone.
As James and I drove back through the city, my mind turned to the woman in white. I knew I hadn't imagined her. One more lost lady in a city like this isn't something to get mushy over, but she stuck with me. I pushed her out of my mind. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping secrets stay hidden in the smoke and steam. Cities know how to bury their bodies. I got back to my apartment and found the super repairing my door. While he finished up, I cleaned. By the time he was done, I was ready for bed. So I curled up next to the window and, looking out over the skyline, finally went to sleep.
Noir week (see below) will conclude tomorrow, but we had to take a break tonight to acknowledge that GAME OF THRONES is coming back for the 3rd episode of season 5. Emily, yet again drawn to one of her favorite characters, who made an appearance in last week's episode: Drogon the Dragon. Here again, she shows that she has not only the will, but also the fangs to be a fire-breathing dragon. She is only missing the fire, and the scales. Also the wings. And she is smaller than Drogon and (if the histories of Westeros are to be believed) basically all of the dragons ever except maybe some of the last ones who were totally effed up b/c of years of Targaryen mistreatment. Anyway, Emily flies high as Drogon once again!
Tune in tomorrow for the thrilling conclusion of Noir Week! To catch up on Emily's investigation, see the previous installments:
Welcome to Noir Week on My Slow Mo Cat! This week, we have one story told in six parts with accompanying Slow Mo Videos, of course. This is the sixth part of Emily's account of a recent investigation she took part in.
As the two men made their way slowly down the street, I watched. They looked this way and that and then turning towards #10 and looking at the ground they approached. I ducked below the window frame. They couldn't be following my footsteps could they? Surely the street was still wet enough to disguise my prints. As their sounds of their shuffling feet drew nearer, I realized I didn't know what to do about Nancy and James if the two men tried to enter the house.
As i crouched worrying, the light from the street was suddenly obscured. I could see the outline of two tall, dark hat-wearing shadows. The wavered there in the yellow light before finally turning away. I waited a full minute before daring to peek over the window sill. Nothing. I breathed the tiniest sigh of relief. With most of the night gone I tried to get as much sleep as possible.
Barely three hours later I was up. Nancy and James are early risers. I could hear them upstairs, their voices filtering down. I figured Nancy was telling James I was here. Sure enough when they came down they were together. I hopped down from my spot under the window and joined them in the kitchen. After a few pleasantries, I dove right in. I told them all about my night and how I'd ended up on their doorstep.
James looked at me when I'd finished recounting the story of the night. "Let me see that cufflink." was all he said. I nudged it to him with my paw. He looked at it for a long time, turning it over in his hands. He looked from the cufflink to me and then back to the cufflink as if asking me "are you serious?"
Finally, he spoke. "I think I know where we can find this little guy's owner." As nonplussed as Nancy had been the night before when I turned up, her expression was nothing to mine when I heard him say that. He continued, "This GG, it's the mark of a new gang in town. Their leader is a man named George Gracious. He matches the description of the scarred man you were talking about. Their headquarters isn't far from here. If you're up to it, we could go over there and see what we can find?"
"Absolutely!" I leapt from my seat and, with James in tow, headed straight out the door.
It became clear after we had been driving for awhile, that by "their headquarters is near here" what James had meant is, "their headquarters is in the same state." We drove for almost half an hour in James' old, half-broken car. I stood with my hind paws on the passenger seat and my front paws propped on the door so I could easily look out the window.
James stopped the car outside of a small warehouse with several broken windows, tarnished brickwork and a sign that warned "No Trespassing." James and I got out of the car and as we did, I heard a voice call out...
Welcome to Noir Week on My Slow Mo Cat! We are taking a break from the usual Fast Friday posting to finish up our extended report on Emily's investigation. This week, we have one story told in six parts with accompanying Slow Mo Videos, of course. This is the fifth part of Emily's account of a recent investigation she took part in.
Part 5: The Dark Night, and the Cold Ground
Continued...
I grabbed the cufflink and headed for the window. As I leapt out, I heard the door splinter and a man's grunt. I turned around just in time to see the same man with the scarred face who I had glimpsed from afar earlier. I didn't pause to try and see any more of the man, or get a look at his companion. I was out the window, down the fire escape and off across the street before either man had fully entered my apartment.
I didn't even know what time it was. The moon was out and there were still stars in the sky. It had to be late. It felt like I'd been trying to get to sleep for hours. I looked up and saw the clock face over Curt's Deli. Just after 2. I knew I had to keep moving. There was one place I could go, no matter the hour.
After 10 minutes of running, I was out of breath, and in front of a familiar black wood door. The iron 10 in the center of the door was put there only a year or so ago. It was already rusted. I pawed with my claws lightly extended at the bottom of the door. It was the closest I could get to knocking. I hadn't seen either of the men chasing me, but I wanted to get in as fast as I could. During my run, clouds had covered the moon and most of the stars making the night darker than ever before. The streetlights fought as best they could, but there was only so much their municipal bulbs could do. The ground, wet from the rain earlier, was not helping my mood.
Finally, the door swung open. It revealed a short woman, gaunt and pale wearing a tattered shawl. She looked up and down the street before bringing her eyes down and noticing me with a start.
"Nancy." I said.
"Emily!" the surprise was still evident in her voice.
"May I come in?"
"Of course." I could see she was still wondering why I was there. Her eyes were wider than usual and her brows were arched quizzically.
"Thanks. I just need to stay 'til the morning."
"What? Uh...alright." Nancy was still nonplussed. I trotted past her letting her stew in her befuddlement. I'd never had much use for her. She was nice enough, but not the quickest of wits.
"Is James home?" I asked.
"Yes, he's asleep upstairs." Nancy sounded a little wary as though I was going to ask her to go wake him up. If I'm honest, the thought crossed my mind. I decided it could wait until morning. Instead I said a quick goodnight to Nancy and installed myself near one of the front windows. I watched the street straining my eyes against the darkness, willing myself to see a little farther. Squinting into the night, I saw rounding the corner the two men from before. The one with the scarred face was in the lead and behind him, his face revealed for the first time, was the other man. His face was thin and unlined; young. A tuft of dark hair escaped from under his hat-brim and, though the collar of his raincoat was turned up, I could still see his piercing eyes and pointed nose clearly.
As the two men made their way slowly down the street, I watched. They looked this way and that and then turning towards #10...
Welcome to Noir Week on My Slow Mo Cat! This week, we have one story told in six parts with accompanying Slow Mo Videos, of course. This is Emily's account of a recent investigation she took part in.
As I turned the corner a gleam in the gutter caught my eye. I looked over and there shining was something small. I trotted over and leaned down. A cufflink. On it, in glittering gemstones, GG. Initials? Something more? I briefly considered calling for Bradford. Nah, he would just slow me down.
I could see still the faint outline of where the men's car must have been parked. The rain was still drizzling, but there was an obvious rectangle that didn't shine like the rest of the pavement. Looking around the edges, I couldn't see anything else that would indicate where the men had gone. Wet and tired I turned back, heading to my clean, dry bed. Bradford and the other cop were still chatting idly by the lamppost. They glared in my direction as I passed. I nodded a quick goodnight. Bradford said something else about wanting a statement from me, but I wasn't listening. Anyway, I could tell his heart wasn't in it. With no evidence anything had happened, he didn't want to fill out the paperwork. He could say it was some crackpot with a false alarm.
I dried myself off as best I could and curled up to go to sleep. Normally I'm a champion sleeper, but tonight, I couldn't shut my eyes without seeing the imprint of the woman in white. In the quiet I could still hear her screams. Staring at the shadows I counted the number of cars that turned my corner. Whenever they did, their lights would briefly flash on the walls. On the top of the bookshelf next to my bed sat the cufflink. I stared at it too. I wondered which of the two men it had belonged to. I knew it could have been dropped by someone passing by earlier in the day, but the people around here don't wear cufflinks. Hell, the clothes they usually wear don't have cuffs at all.
I must have drifted of eventually b/c the next thing I knew I heard a sharp knocking on my door. No, not a knocking, a battering, crashing. I knew in an instant: someone was trying to knock the door down. I didn't want to stick around and find out what was coming through. I grabbed the cufflink and headed for the window. As I leapt out, I heard the door splinter and a man's grunt. I turned around just in time to see...
To be continued....
Emily's work is never done, but sometimes rest is needed:
Welcome to Noir Week on My Slow Mo Cat! This week, we have one story told in six parts with accompanying Slow Mo Videos, of course. This is Emily's account of a recent investigation she took part in.
Detective Bradford turned to me and said, "What gives?"
I looked up and down the street before answering. If there was any trace of the woman, I wanted to show him. It had taken Bradford, and the rest of the police for that matter, awhile to get used to the idea of a cat detective. They got they started warming up to me after when I helped solve the Lattimore Jewel heist. I didn't want to take any chances.
"She was right here." I shot back. I didn't blink.
"Well, what do you figure, she just up and vanished?" Bradford had a tone in his voice I didn't like. Sarcastic. Teasing.
"Look, all I know is she was here last I knew." I was done with his attitude.
Bradford turned away from me and looked at the man with him they both glanced at the ground. After a cursory look at the lamppost, Bradford looked back around. "I don't think you'd yank our chain on purpose, but are you sure you saw something? There's no marks out here, nothing to show anyone has been here recently. Maybe in the dark you didn't see?"
"I'm a cat." I said. I kept my voice level and my eyes fixed on Bradford. "I know what I saw, dark or otherwise."
With that I turned and made my way up the street in the direction the men in raincoats had run. "Hey! Come back here. We need a statement." Bradford was yelling now. Always so quick to yell. I just keep walking. Let him stretch his legs a little if he wanted to get anything out of me. God knows he needs the exercise.
As I turned the corner a gleam in the gutter caught my eye. I looked over and there shining was...
Welcome to Noir Week on My Slow Mo Cat! This week, we have one story told in six parts with accompanying Slow Mo Videos, of course. This is Emily's account of a recent investigation she took part in.
This city's secrets smolder in its sewers, festering there like putrid outlaws. Looking out the window I saw streets slick with rain, lights glancing off of the pavement. A dog was howling in the distance. I looked this way and that for the screamer. All along the street dark doorways lined the brick buildings and a pulsating neon sign cast an eerie glow at the far end of the block.
Just as I was about to turn away, two men in dark raincoats came running from one of the doorways. They wore hats, and I could hear the click click of their shoes as they hurried away. Their shadows chased them as they ran. Before they turned onto one of the side streets, I caught a glimpse of the taller one's face. It was lined and ragged with a scar extending from the corner of his left eye almost all the way to the bottom of his chin. His lip was curled in a perpetual snarl that exposed several of his teeth. They looked yellow, but I couldn't tell if that was the streetlight's doing or his.
A few seconds after they turned the corner, I heard the clunk clunk ROAR of a car engine starting and the screech of tires on slick pavement. Another decision to make. Should I turn from the window and go back to bed, or venture out into the night? Suddenly, more movement. From the doorway, a woman came staggering. She wore only a white nightgown. As she stumbled into the light I could see there was blood on it and it had been ripped in several places. She came to the light post, clutched at it weakly, and then, shuddering and gasping, sank to the ground.
I turned from the window quickly and dialed the police. They have been good about taking my calls since I got my license. Though I've mostly been just south of strictly law abiding, I've given them a few tips that have paid off. Officer Jankowitz was on duty and he said a car would be on its way soon. He advised me to stay put, but I knew as soon as I put down the receiver, I'd be out the door. Even before I put down the phone, I could hear a siren. There must have been a car on duty nearby. The keening screech grew louder and louder. The lights flashed through my windows and across the walls as I turned to leave. Racing out the door I saw Detective Bradford and another man I didn't know standing by the lamppost. I raced over as fast as I could. There was nothing. The woman was gone. Detective Bradford and the other man turned to look at me. Detective Bradford said, ...
Welcome to Noir Week on My Slow Mo Cat! This week, we have one story told in six parts with accompanying Slow Mo Videos, of course.
Part 1: Trouble in the Night
I had just finished my dinner at the Floor Top Diner and was settling in for the night, when I heard someone or something let out a scream. That's not unusual. This city has its fair share of screamers, and my hearing is better than most. It had been a long time since I'd heard someone make a noise like this though. Who ever was in trouble could let one loose like the winds of winter's banshee mother. Part of me wanted to go back home and lie down, but the other part of me knew that wasn't an option.
I'm Emily by the way, Emily D. D stands for Dickinson, but in these parts a name like that will only get you rough stares. I keep to myself mostly, don't need much else. Got a license a couple weeks ago to be a P.I. It's been alright so far. The usual collection of lowlifes and grifters have come through my office. Most just want me to rough someone up for them. I'll do it if the price is right, but I don't like it. I've been itching to make a difference, you know. Find a case where I'm working for something, not just running back and forth dancing to the tune of fortune's calypso strings. Something in that scream let me know this might be my chance. So I headed over the the closest window and looked around.
Now that we have bid farewell to Game of Thrones week, Emily is on to her next challenge. Having caught the acting bug last week, she wanted to continue to stretch her abilities. After a viewing of Mildred Pierce, she knew what she wanted to do next: noir.
Bring on the low-key lighting, the femme fatales, the private eyes, the morally ambiguous situations and the (nearly) unsolvable cases. For the next week, we will tell one story in six daily installments. But how is My Slow Mo (Noir) Cat different than the regular My Slow Mo Cat, you ask? Well, first of all, great question. Let's explore! 1) All photos and videos will be in black and white 2) The writing that accompanies each video will tell an ongoing story of Emily's noir adventure. Consider today's offering, a clue to the case to come, and an indication of what style we will be adopting in the coming days.
Tune in every day for a new part of the case/story!!!
It's the seventh (and final) day of Game of Thrones week here on My Slow Mo Cat! Every day this week, in honor of the premier of the 5th season of Game of Thrones, Emily (aka the Slow Mo Cat) is impersonating a different Game of Thrones character.
Was there any other way this week could end? Emily, though she did spot on impersonations of the other six Game of Thrones characters, ends this week with the one nearest to herself: The Mother of Dragons herself, Danerys Targaryen. Regal and stately with a burning intensity to her, and a will to change the world for the better, Emily and Dany have much in common. Rather than recreate a specific scene as she did with the other characters, Emily chose to simply embody the grace and danger that Dany projects. When looking at Emily sitting on the couch/Iron Throne, one can easily imagine that dragons swirl about her head while a horde of Unsullied await her command. A fitting finale to Game of Thrones week!!!
Emily is Danerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons!
It's the sixth day of Game of Thrones week here on My Slow Mo Cat and we are taking a break from the usual Fast Friday posting to finish up our work in Westeros. Every day this week, in honor of the premier of the 5th season of Game of Thrones, Emily (aka the Slow Mo Cat) is impersonating a different Game of Thrones character.
Emily decides to stretch her acting abilities to the limits. After a quasi-restive impersonation of Arya Stark, Emily decided that she would try her paw at a more challenging role: A White Walker. Of all the characters in Game of Thrones, there are non less like Emily than these fearsome ice-zombies. Where she is covered in fur, they are covered in some kind of creepy ice-skin. Where she is warm and full of love, their cold hearts were given over to the snow lands long ago. Where she lives south of The Wall, they live north of the wall. Where she is totally find with letting humans inhabit Westeros, they are not sold on the proposition and, when winter comes, they will most likely obliterate all in their path, unless some dragon queen from across The Narrow Sea comes over and breathes fire all over their pale white patoots...or something. Just sayin'.
Emily decided that, for her White Walker scene, she had to incorporate "The Screech" and felt the best way to capture that was to show how a White Walker would react to someone scratching it on the head. The answer: with annoyance. She captures the icy spirit of these mysterious beings as well as their viciousness.
Welcome to the fifth day of Game of Thrones week here on My Slow Mo Cat. Every day this week, in honor of the premier of the 5th season of Game of Thrones, Emily (aka the Slow Mo Cat) is impersonating a different Game of Thrones character.
Emily shows she has what it takes to waterdance like everyone's favorite little assassin. Again with the help of The Rainbow Snake, she shows what it would be like if Arya was attacked by one of Danerys' dragons, and how Arya would defend. With grace and agility, she dodges the first fire-blast, and uses needle to get between the beasts scales. Truly a battle to remember.
Welcome to the fourth day of Game of Thrones week here on My Slow Mo Cat. Every day this week, in honor of the premier of the 5th season of Game of Thrones, Emily (aka the Slow Mo Cat) is impersonating a different Game of Thrones character.
Emily has sharpened her talents as an actor this last week. After three days of impersonating vibrant characters much like herself, she decided to try being like a character who is nothing like her: Grand Maester Pycelle. In GoT he is almost a character within a character; virile and surprisingly fit for his age, but affecting a hunched, doddering demeanor to conceal his true abilities, mental and physical. Emily, for her part, is a 14 year old cat who defies her age day in and day out with feats of physical prowess cats half her age would be thrilled to accomplish.
To fully embody Pycelle she chose to reenact the scene where, after pretending to be a complete old ninny to Roz, we see Pycelle pacing in his chambers preparing for the day only to slump once again before exiting. She does "the slump" hunching over and curling up in a bundle.
Welcome to the third day of Game of Thrones week here on My Slow Mo Cat. Every day this week, in honor of the premier of the 5th season of Game of Thrones, Emily (aka the Slow Mo Cat) is impersonating a different Game of Thrones character.
Before Sunday's season premier, we had last seen Tyrion in full flight, allowing himself to be locked in a crate so he could escape from the certain death that awaited him in Westeros. Emily, was at first unsure if she could even pull off a Tyrion impersonation. How could she embody all those character complexities? Wouldn't her performance be compared to that of Peter Dinklage? After quite a bit of cajoling, I convinced her to give it a shot and boy did she do great!
For Tyrion, Emily chose to reenact the scene where he emerges from his crate after a long journey from King's Landing to Pentos. Embodying all of the curiosity and cleverness of Tyrion, under the cover of night, Emily pokes her head out of the box/crate and surveys her new life.
Welcome to Game of Thrones week on My Slow Mo Cat. Every day this week, in honor of the premier of the 5th season of Game of Thrones, Emily (aka the Slow Mo Cat) is impersonating a different Game of Thrones character.
Day 1: Drogon
Day 2: Jamie Lannister aka The Kingslayer
When Emily fights, it is always fair and square and on the up and up. For this Game of Thrones impersonation, Emily enlisted the (grudging) assistance of her sparring partner, The Rainbow Snake. To accurately recreate the scene in the Throne Room where Jamie slays The Mad King, Emily/Jamie perched herself/himself high upon the sofa staring out, from a window in the Red Keep looking over the city that the Mad King/The Rainbow Snake wanted to burn. Behind her The Mad King/The Rainbow Snake slinks away after having told her/him not only of his plan to kill everyone in King's Landing, but also giving her/him the command to kill Tywin, her father. Emily/Jamie, after thinking over her/his desperate situation turns and, noticing that the Mad King/The Rainbow Snake's back is turned, leaps and does away with the crazed ruler. As Emily and The Rainbow Snake tussle, if you squint your eyes just a little, the couch and other accouterments of modern life slip away and you will find yourself transported to Westeros; where steel, stone, fire and ice rule.
Emily's Kingslayer Impersonation (with help from The Rainbow Snake):
It's Game of Thrones week here on My Slow Mo Cat. Every day we will see Emily doing her best impressions of various Game of Thrones characters. To start it off, Emily takes a crack at embodying the spirit of the deadliest (living) dragon in the seven kingdoms: Drogon.
Displaying her ferocity and her fangs, Emily opens wide her gaping maw. When her mouth is at full stretch, it is not hard to imagine flames shooting from it, melting stone, bones, and all else. Harkening back to that primordial time when reptiles and mammals shared a common ancestor, Emily searches deep in her genetic code for the link to that many-scaled creature. With the heat of potential flames in her veins, and the will to rain fire down upon her enemies, she is truly a cat-dragon greater and more fearsome than all others. She. Is. Drogon!
The day had barely begun. A bloody sun hung low in the sky. Breezes rushed around the furry feet of our hero, a creature of commendable beauty, blessed with deadly skills. She had alighted on a couch, grey in hue an easily defensible position. There she waited, eyes wide, ears held high, claws at the ready. She knew a battle was not far off.
This hero had been locked in battle for most of the night with her nemesis. Slithering and vile, it had crawled from the dankest, darkest reaches of the Earth's depths. Upon first emerging into the sun, its once dull scales shone; the mucoid covering that had built on them during the creature's years below the earth now refracting the light in a thousand shades. As this creature traveled across the land it came to be known by those scales, it was: The Rainbow Snake!
On this fresh day, TRS, fresh from its latest villainy was in search of the one animal that could prevent it from realizing its nefarious goals. Wiggling its wretched body from side to side it hunted most of the morning before finally catching the scent of its enemy. Slithering along the back of the couch where it knew she was hiding, it was suddenly stung! Emily, sensing the presence of The Rainbow Snake had seen it crawling along the top of the couch and, no sooner had she spotted it than she sprang forward, her claws outstretched catching The Rainbow Snake unawares. Thwarted again, humiliated and defeated The Rainbow Snake retreated, vowing to fight again another day. Emily for her part settled in, enjoying the view from the couch she had so successfully defended from The Rainbow Snakes evil.
This funky kitty is in luck. Some days you wake up dragging behind the backbeat, other days you are rushing the tempo, and then there are the days when the universe aligns and everything is right on time. Emily is having one of those days. After waking stretching, and having some breakfast, Emily trotted happily into the living room to discover that she had a Brand. New. Box. Not only that, but this box is also the perfect size for her tiny kitty body.
Emily, the funky queen of box resting, quickly took up residence and has been enjoying the non-stop disco-fun of sitting, sleeping, looking at things, and scratching that comes with box habitation. All in all, momma's got a brand new box, and she couldn't be happier.
Even slow motion can't slow Emily down. When she is in the mood and has a need for speed, there is literally nothing and no one that can stop her from achieving frankly frightening velocities. Anything can induce a running fit: having just eaten, wanting to eat, seeing something interesting, wanting to play, wanting to be in a different room, and/or feeling like running. When she does run, if you blink you could miss it. It took our team of experts months and highly specialized camera placements to capture this event. Now, short-lived as it may be, here is the full Slow Mo Cat run and darned if it doesn't look a lot like regular speed running! Just how fast is she? No one knows.
In the words of one eyewitness: "It was like NASCAR but faster!" In the words of another, "What just happened? I blinked and didn't see anything. it sounded fast though."
Much like Liam Neeson's character in the Taken films, Emily has a certain set of skills. These skills have made her the ideal for the task of tangling with (and regularly defeating) her arch nemisis The Rainbow Snake. Today, during one of their regular couch-based altercations, Emily unleashed a move that she has been working on, but had not yet put into practice: The Pounce. No, not a ponce, The Pounce. The Pounce to End all Pounces, The Pounce that Must Not Be Named, The One Pounce to Rule Them All...you get the picture.
To create The Pounce, Emily broke the move down into four simple components.
1. Sighting. She gets a line on her prey. It is wiggling all over the place, hoping to confuse her. She is not confused. She is amused.
2. Rock Back. She moves her weight back letting her strong hid legs do the heavy thrusting. She is now ready to launch her tiny body at her dastardly foe with all deliberate force.
3. Spring! No, not the season, the action. She leaps through the air a whirling force of fur and claws airborne and lethal.
4. Tactical Landing. She does not just slam down on her prey, that could give it a chance to get the better of her. She extends her paws, hand-talons (claws) outstretched ready to grasp onto any part of her opponent she can reach.
When properly executed (and it must be noted that proper execution of The Pounce is basically impossible) this move spells almost certain doom for whoever is facing it.
A morning routine is important. We all have those certain things we do: making tea/coffee, taking a shower, running around the house like something CRAZY is happening (okay, maybe that's just Emily aka the Slow Mo Cat). For Emily, the morning is a time to clean. No, I am not talking about taking a tiny broom in her kitty paws and going around the house sweeping up the fur she dropped yesterday though, yes, you're right that is an adorable image and would be super handy because then I would not have to do it. I am talking about cleaning herself. Emily is a fastidious creature. While she is not afraid of a little dirt and loves to go exploring whatever the terrain/weather conditions, she also values a warm place to lay her head and a good clean coat of UNBELIEVABLY SOFT fur.
Having already informed us of how to defend our boxes, today Emily, my opalescent tree-shark, takes it upon herself to show us how she keeps clean. These are instructions for a common, everyday, cursory cleaning. This is not meant to be substituted for a full, thorough cleaning. This one will get you through the work week, on the weekend, you need a full-body shower/cleansing.
1. Get comfy. Find the fluffiest, warmest, most invitingly confortable blanket and take up residents on it. Really wiggle your butt into it and get cozy.
2. Start licking your hands and arms. This is the best place to start because these are often the dirtiest areas. They are out there doing the hard work while other parts of your body just sit around getting taken places by them. The arms are like, "I will carry you!" and the stomach is like, "okay." That's how the body moves.
3. Take one of the hands you are licking and begin passing it over your head and face. This will bring the cleaning power of your own saliva to the other area that is regularly coming into contact with the dirty, dirty world.
And presto! You're done. Ready for another day cattin' about. So you can see what this three step process looks like in person, here is the full video of Emily going through the steps:
As has already been established, poachers of the world need beware, a force for good stalks the night: The Dark Hunter. But, this hero also needs rest. Using state-of-the-art technology and finely honed detective skills, My Slow Mo Cat can exclusively reveal footage of The Dark Hunter sleeping.
The Dark Hunter is not easy to find. She (or he, but we are like 99.99999999999%/100% sure that it's a she) leaves no trace except for the scattered camps of her prey. After searching the lowlands, an expedition to higher terrain finally yielded results and her "Slumber Lair" (as she, yes we are just going to go with she, calls it). With infrared lights on the cameras and total silence imperative our reporters snuck as close as they could to where she was resting. At first all they could see was a tail, but soon a fully formed body emerged one that even in deepest rest bespoke natural power, grace and beauty. It is with the presentation of this footage that we can exclusively reveal that The Dark Hunter, bane of poachers and enemy to animal injustices everywhere does, in fact, sleep.
There is a new menace. No sooner has Emily made peace with her rival the Tail than she was faced with a fresh threat. Shoes! It turns out that they are everywhere and, when they are not on feet, they are laced terrors, lying in wait for an unsuspecting creature to happen by. There was only one thing to be done, so the Slow Mo Cat herself took matters into her own hands/paws.
Seeing a Shoe loitering with many more of its own kind -- a veritable pediatric army -- she quickly singled it out from the herd and began her assault. First, she explores the Shoe's nefarious depths, probing with her paws. Then she goes so far as to involve her head seeing what lies within. Finally swiping with all of her hand-talons (claws) she subdues her foe with aplomb.
Sources on the ground noted that this first interaction between Slow Mo Cat and Shoe ended firmly in favor of the Slow Mo Cat, but that the Shoe put up a masterful defense and that the quickly developing situation merited close scrutiny and continued observation. We here at My Slow Mo Cat will cover this story as it unfolds bringing you the latest news on the Slow Mo Cat/Shoe relationship.
Emily and her Tail have been in an escalating conflict, which has been covered in depth by My Slow Mo Cat. Our reporter on the ground documented the first signs of trouble, the first strike, and the height of the confrontation. Now, we can offer this exclusive footage of what is believed to be the final chapter in the Tailmageddon story: the cessation of hos(tail)ities, and the reconciliation of both parties.
Emily and her Tail, at odds for so long were seen in the early hours of this morning, bathed in light, wrapped in what appeared to be a warm embrace. Sources on the ground tell us that during the night, Emily and the Tail came to an understanding that their fates were inextricably linked so, rather than struggled on and on through time, an unstoppable force and an immovable object, they should come to an understanding and find a means of co-existence. As of this writing it is unknown how that agreement was reached. When asked for comment Emily said simply, "meow" and the Tail, for its part did not issue any statement with those close to the Tail again citing "lack of a mouth." This truce has been in effect less than 24 hours, but both parties are hopeful that it will last a lifetime.
There have been many great battles in history. The battle of Stalingrad. The battle of the Bulge. The battle of the Little Big Horn. The battle between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Today, a great battle raged: the battle between Emily and The Rainbow Snake for dominion over The Ottoman. Our reporter on the ground captured rare time-lapse footage that encompassed the entire encounter.
As the battle begins, The Rainbow Snake launches a vicious series of arial assaults hoping to batter down Emily's defenses. Not to be outdone, Emily counters with equally deadly claw strikes, and defensive blocks. Finally grabbing the upper hand, she presses her advantage until The Rainbow Snake has no choice but to back down. Here are what three eyewitness had to say.
Eyewitness 1: I have never seen such action in my life! One second the snake thing was coming at her, the next she had grabbed it and was shaking it like crazy. I don't know how she did it. Truly amazing.
Eyewitness 2: What can I say? I think the outcome speaks for itself. Quite the display of skills on both sides, but it was pretty clear who the greater champion was.
Eyewitness 3: I didn't see anything. I don't know who told you I saw something, but that person was lying. Maybe they saw something? I don't know. All I know is snitches get stitches.
Emily has revealed another secret identity: Elasti-cat. Yes, while she may look like an ordinary feline, she is, in fact, a super-kitty possessed of abilities that boggle the mind. The discovery of her talents/gifts was innocuous enough. Lounging (as she is won't to do) Emily saw a hand approaching. Not wanting to let the hand get too close for comfort, she reached out gently with her paw, extending her claws as a warning. Then, as the hand moved away, she kept her paw on it and her leg, which already seemed to be at full stretch, kept on extending. It did not stop.
The Hand was suitably freaked out by this, and a new hero was born. Capable of great feats of reaching and stretching, she stalks the night. Injustice as nowhere to run an nowhere to hide because the arm of the law just got a whole lot longer.
Emily thinks it is important, even when sleeping, to keep the world well aware of her deadly capabilities. This is why, in the depths of her deepest slumbers, she has one of her majestic fangs exposed. Any unsuspecting wanderers who come across her will not only be stunned by her radiant beauty and exceptional softness, but they will also be informed that she is not a cat-dragon to be poked. After curling her body into an optimal sleeping position, Emily burns a fraction of a calorie bringing back her upper lip a fraction of an inch, exposing her incisor. Like her noble saber-toothed ancestors, she is a feline to be reckoned with. The slightest wrong movement on the part of a back woods adventurer, and she can spring into action.
It is said that long ago, in the days of Marco Polo, European explorers wandering the depths of the jungles of Asia for the first time, came across a new species of tiger. Small and seemingly innocuous, these creatures lived free and wild. The travelers, without precaution, approached them, only to find that their sweet exteriors belied a steely center comprised of raw predatory instinct. These travelers were never seen again, and those creatures lived on for many generations. It is believed that Emily is one of their direct descendants.
