#londongold

[theswiftarmy]

POST #25 – Mr. Whittington’s Cat, I Presume?

“Stay here.”

“Billie, where are you going?”  Justin Bieber called after her.

“Just stay here!  Finneas and I will enter over there—” She pointed to a blocked off road lined with security guards and official looking individuals in event staff shirts, “We have to let them take our photos on the red carpet.  Wait, Justin, why am I telling YOU this, you know the red carpet deal, don’t make me say the word…”

“What word, you mean duh?”

“Duh!  Yes.”

“Oh yeah.  Yeah, I know the red carpet deal.”  He nodded.

The group nodded back, they all knew the deal.  Justin Bieber, Oak Felder, Pop Wansel, Scott Borchetta, Kanye West, Carl Lyle the lawyer (who’s last name is also coincidentally Lawyer), and Kymmie (The Teen Arianator and aspiring social media influencer) stood in a hiding spot near the chaotic crimson carpet.  Kymmie knew the deal not because she had gone through it before like the others, but because she had consumed so much media, both social and anti-social, that she knew way more than your average teenager could possibly know about the red carpet without so much as even stepping foot on it.  She imagined the bottom of her feet, one day, taking those very first steps onto the carpet.  That magic carpet ride.  That crimson carpet.  Oh, how she longed to be part of that crimson carpet club (as she had decidedly named it inside her head).  Oh how she longed to join those select few individuals around the world as a member of the exclusive red carpet club.  How many people in the world had walked on the red carpet?  Percentage wise?  It was a VERY exclusive club indeed.  So many people in the world, yet so few belonged to that Hollywood elite.  Oh how she dreamed one day that would be her.  She would make it happen, and she wouldn’t stop until she did.  She could see it, just across the way, so close, yet so far away.  All she knew was, she would get there one day.  She thought, it must be the most amazing experience ever!  The lawyer of course had been on what he called ‘red carpet duty’ on numerous occasions, because it was his job to be there.  It reminded him of being a Resident Assistant back in his college days, but for Hollywood stars instead of his fellow university classmates.  He found it to be the most boring of tasks he’d ever been assigned.  But when you work for The Whales of Hollywood you get assigned various overt and covert tasks of which you are required to complete.  Mostly it was boring legal stuff, like babysitting an uncooperative client to make sure they don’t say anything stupid to the press, just one whisper to their ear, was usually all it took, just a few words, very specific words.  He was told what to say by someone else, who told that person to say it, and someone told that person and so on and so forth… a whole whisper down the lane game.  It was entirely possible that Kymmie and the lawyer would cross paths one day on the red carpet in a completely different interaction.

“I’ll call you, Justin, don’t go anywhere until you get my call.  Okay?”  Billie nodded at Justin after saying okay.

Justin nodded back.  Then, everyone else nodded at his nod at Billie Eilish.  There was a hierarchy of nods, just like the hierarchy of whispers.  Our entire world is one hierarchy after another—hierarchy of hierarchies.

She took a deep breath and turned to face her brother.  “You ready?”

Finneas smiled a crooked smile.  “Oh yeah.  I was born ready—”

Billie made a face and shook her head no.

Finneas reacted, “Yeah, that was kind of cheesy, wasn’t it?  I won’t say that again.”

She changed her ‘no’ headshake to a ‘yes’ head bob.

The group watched as Billie and Finneas made their way through the madness towards the red carpet, it didn’t take long before the first photographer recognized Billie and her brother, and the cameras turned their way, like weapons turning on a new target.  Paparazzi have that sixth sense ability to spot a celebrity before anyone else does.  Although, they do work for The Whales of Hollywood, so maybe it’s not a sixth sense, maybe it’s just what they are paid to do.  If you don’t want The Whale (or the rest of his pod) sending the paparazzi after you all you have to do is walk down the red carpet exactly as you’re told, or you just might find a camera lurking on your next vacation or… while you’re sitting in your backyard trying to enjoy some time alone.  The Whales have ways to make any photo say whatever they want it to say so that YOU say whatever THEY want you to say… Be a good celebrity and do as your told… Well… That was the old hierarchy/patriarchy/monarchy… Some say there’s talk of a new ‘archy’ in town… A Swiftarchy.

“OH MY GOD, that’s Taylor Swift’s cat!”  Kymmie shouted breaking the silence.

“No it’s not.  And shhhhhhh.   Keep quiet.”  Scott scolded her.

“Yeah it is!  I’m gonna go take a picture of it.”  She started to creep towards it.

Carl stepped in her way.  “No you’re not.  You’re staying right here where Billie told us to stay.”  

“Whatever, you can’t stop me.  I’m only going to go take a picture and then I’ll be right back.”  She weaved around Carl.

“Yeah Carl, chill, yo.”  Kanye said.  “We’ve got time before we got to go… Let her take a pho-to!”

“Sweet rhyme bro.”  Justin fist bumped Kanye.

“Yeah you know how I flow.”

“How about this for a rhyme… No!  She needs to stay with us.  Everyone just stay here.”  The lawyer demanded and then turned to follow her.

Scott called after here in a whisper yell.  “Kymmie!  Come back here.” He then also started to follow—he followed the lawyer, following Kymmie.  There’s a new hierarchy of following now, obviously.

Kymmie neared the cat and knelt close to the ground, she turned around, “You guys it really is Taylor’s cat!”

“This is a trick.”  Scott said under his breath to the lawyer as he followed close behind Carl.

The cat meowed and then turned and walked further away.  Kymmie followed it immediately.

“Kymmie, stop following the cat and come back here.”  The lawyer spoke with a voice of authority.

“You’re not the boss of me!  And anyway, I just need to take a picture!”  She followed the cat around a corner.

The lawyer called after her.  “You don’t need to take a picture.  You need to come back with us to the hiding spot so we can stick to the plan.”

Scott looked back and saw that the rest were beginning to follow. “What are you doing?  Go back!”  He whisper yelled at them and flailed his arm around in the air.  They ran across the street catching up with Scott.  He quickly gave up and waited for everyone before continuing on.  The group rounded the corner to see the lawyer who was following Kymmie who was following the cat, about fifty feet ahead of them.

Just then a person in an orange vest also rounded a corner in the distance opposite to the one they had just rounded.  The person wearing the orange vest stopped in the distance looking the other direction appearing to be talking to someone just around the bend, everyone froze.  About a hundred feet down the street from the group, nearest to the guard, Kymmie froze in her tracks after looking up from the cat to see a bright orange vest directly in front of her, she looked back at the lawyer and then back to the cat sitting comfortably on the ground then to the lawyer again.  The security guard’s radio blurted out something about additional crowd control needed to keep some Taylor Swift fans back.  The Swiftness with which her Swifties had suddenly multiplied caught the entire event security team off guard.  The guard ran back in the opposite direction without so much as noticing Kymmie or any of the others, just a short distance away.  Kymmie let out a sigh of relief and the others did the same.

Scott shifted his stance nervously, and then spoke to the group standing behind him like Shaggy talking to the rest of his spooky mystery solving friends.  “Jeepers!  That was a close call.  Like, you guys… I think we really need to all get back to the hiding spot.  What do you think Scooby?  I mean, Scooter.”  He held up his phone with Scooter on the other end of the call, he pressed a button to put Scooter on speakerphone.  Due to a lot of background noise it was hard to tell what Scooter was trying to say, but it sounded a lot like Scooter said… ‘Ruh roh’.  “See guys, even Scooter thinks this is a bad idea… Zoinks!”  He ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket.

The truth of it all was that, Scott happened to be the only one who really knew what was at stake here, he’d already solved the mystery long ago which was why he brought Scooby, sorry, I mean Scooter in on things, but that just seemed to have added more chaos.  After what Billie Eilish said to him, he realized it might not matter who’s hands the power to make the ultimate viral song of all time fell into, someone was going to figure it out eventually and then it would spread across the globe to every earlobe on the planet as soon as that artist finally did figure it out.  He knew that no matter what it could possibly infect everyone on the entire planet if it wasn’t stopped, and sure maybe Billie was right, maybe anyone could be the true bad guy.  Maybe any of them, given the chance, would make the song that would become the only song anyone would sing ever again, the entire world locked in a musical virus infected and stuck together globally forever in one singularity of song.  But he had to take a chance and side with someone, and Shaggy and Scooby, sorry Scott and Scooter, just made sense.  If you can’t figure out whose side anyone is on, how do you fight?  How do you know you’re fighting the right fight?  The only thing he knew for sure was that if that song were to be created and unleashed upon the world, it would forever change the way everyone lived.  It would disrupt the entire planet, all of humanity.  The musical virus would transmit from person to person without so much of a hope of anyone ever stopping it.  Music is already quite contagious even without the secret chord… But with that secret Leonard Cohen chord?   The music world and anything that relied on it would grind to a halt, and for all he knew, everything else would too… coffee shops, bars and pubs, everywhere around the world, anywhere a show could be played—all of it stopped.  All concerts, festivals, pro sports games, Broadway shows even!  Everything stops, the music just stops.  It would in-fact include anywhere there’s music and people gathering together, even birthday parties where they might sing the Happy Birthday song, or weddings, anywhere anyone gathered in groups and music could be heard, would be done... Award shows just like this…  Movie theaters around the world, Hollywood and The Whales… All of it would be shutdown.  Roll up the red carpet and put it in storage.  Shut it all down.

And you say, well that would never happen!  COACHELLA CANCLED?  IMPOSSIBLE!  Scott Borchetta used to think the same thing, but he knew it not only could now, it will happen… It was only a matter of time until it did.  Coachella, with it’s roots dating all the way back to the seventies London punk scene, the anarchy of the eighties and Goldenvoice giving a voice to so many musicians… Would be stopped in its tracks by a newarchy, the song to end all other songs.

“Scott, just chill, Billie has my number, she promised me she wouldn’t lose it!  I was like, Billie, Billie don’t lose my number!  And she was like, I won’t.  I promise.”

Scott ground his teeth.  “Fine.  Okay everyone, like, let’s not split up, we just, we NEED to stay together.  Come on, we need to catch up to them.”  They hurried along the side of the building to catch up with Carl Lyle the lawyer, and, with Kymmie and the cat.  About ten feet ahead of Carl, with her phone raised ready to snap a photo, Kymmie followed the frisky feline.  She stalked the cat slowly as it strolled along strutting its stuff.

Just then the cat stopped in front of what looked like a stage door, the kind you would see just outside a Broadway show, where fans gather after shows for autographs from their favorite cast member, the door was wide open.  The cat looked back and meowed.

“Awwwww, it’s sooo cute!” Kymmie held out her phone and steadied the shot.  She spoke to the cat.  “Okay Taylor’s cat… STAY STILL!  I just need to snap a photo…”  Before Kymmie could take the photo the cat disappeared through the door.  “WHYYYYYYY!?!?!?!  Oh no, no no no, I’m not giving up that easy, I’m going to get this photo of you!”  Kymmie hovered just at the edge of the door.

“Oh no, no no, YOU are NOT going in THERE.”  Carl slid between her and the door.

“Yes, I am.  I need to get this photo!”  She argued putting a hand on her waist.

Scott pointed at the door.  “No, this isn’t right, there shouldn’t be a door just wide open, especially a stage door.”

“But this is the theater!  This door leads into the theater!  Maybe this is where we want to be anyway?  We’ll find Billie inside and everything will work out, AFTER I get my photo of Taylor Swift’s cat.  Look, it even says STAGE DOOR right above the door on that sign!”

Scott shook his head, “That’s a handwritten sign!  Or, hand painted?  Hang on a minute, I know that handwriting, that’s Taylor’s handwriting and the paint on the sign still looks wet.”  A little bit of paint was running from one of the letters dripping down a few inches,  “There wouldn’t just be a hand painted sign.  Still wet, I might add.”

“How do you know it’s Taylor’s handwriting?”  The Arianator questioned.

“Because, I know her handwriting, I Just do.  And the sign aside there’s something else off about all of this.  No, this is just not right, there should be security—no one would just leave a door wide open.  It’s just so out of place.  ESPECIALLY a stage door.”

“Well, maybe the streets are blocked off and no one else is allowed back here.  Did you consider that Mr. Hot Shot Scott?”  Kymmie was determined to win this door debate.

“Then we wouldn’t be standing here!”  He argued back.

“Maybe they blocked it off after we got through?  We saw that one person in the orange vest with the radio, you know—”

“No, NO, there’s something not right about this.  I agree with Scott.”  The lawyer crossed his arms and stood in front of the door like a bouncer.  “No one is going in there.”

Justin walked over to stand beside Kymmie and peered in the doorway trying to get a glimpse of the cat.  “So, if that IS Taylor Swift’s cat, why would it just be walking around outside?”

“Maybe she brings her cats to every performance and lets them walk around before the show.”  The Arianator said shrugging.  “Maybe the cat just wanted to go for a walk outside.”

“I highly doubt that.”  The lawyer said shaking his head.

“Well, I’m going to follow it.”

“No.  You can’t go in there.”  The lawyer shook his head again.

“I need to!  I need a photo!  If I don’t take a photo no one is going to believe me.  SO, outta the way!”  She disappeared through the door after dashing around the lawyer.  He reached out throwing his arms in her direction but caught only air.

“Okay, everyone, we’re just going to have to follow her.”  The lawyer decreed turning to enter the doorway.

“What?”  Scott was taken by surprise.  “I think in the best interest of everyone else here we should just stay—“

“Just follower her!”  He barked, and stepped through the door.

“I don’t know about anyone else but I get the feeling this is a really bad idea, and I just wanted to say I think this just might be the worst idea of all time… Of all time.”  Kanye said from the back of the group.

“It is.”  Scott said in an ominous tone.  “I’m pretty sure I know exactly where this is going.”

“Yeah, but it’s actually a little bit fun, in a way… You know?”  Justin cracked his knuckles.  “It’s like we’re entering some sort of carnival funhouse.  Life on the edge, Taylor Swift style, I say bring on the funhouse mirrors!”

A spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers.

The hallway was dark at first until their eyes began to adjust.  “What’s that?”  One of them said, “A candy bar wrapper?”  Another suggested.  It was not a candy bar wrapper, it was the silhouette of the cat that could still be spotted as it trotted, no, gallivanted down a lengthy hallway and in through another doorway at the very end.  The walls were painted all black with very dim lighting—black light to be exact—the telltale glow of random objects and pieces of clothing made for a fun distraction from the current distraction of their original task, a funhouse indeed, Swiftie style.  They followed Kymmie into an area that resembled some sort of unused dressing room, various props were strewn about: Strange hats and clothing, odds and ends.  There were mirrors along the walls with old fashioned looking light bulbs along the edge of every mirror.  Each mirror was outlined in lavishly painted gold wooden frames.  The mirrors were makeup mirrors, most likely from backstage Broadway.  It’s possible they were replicas, but they appeared to be genuinely vintage.  The cat sat on a chair in front of one of the mirrors, the chair appeared to be antique looking and also genuinely vintage.  The only light in the room came from the menagerie glowing glass makeup mirror bulbs.

Kymmie the teen Arianator turned back to the others and held her finger to her lips… “Shhhhhhh.”  She said softly.  “I need silence, I don’t want to scare the cat.”

She crept up on the cat slowly, steadying her phone to snap a picture.  “This is going to look soooo cool with this lighting.”  She whispered.

She took the photo and as soon a she did, the cat shifted slightly then paused.  She took another photo.  Then the cat moved again and paused once more.

“Umm… Is anyone else seeing this?”  She asked in a normal voice.  The cat was obviously not scared.

Oak stepped forward towards the cat.  “The cat is posing.  It looks like it’s posing for the photos!”

“It is.”  Scott commented from a corner of the room,  “It’s doing exactly what Taylor does when she’s on the red carpet being photographed.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”  Pop added.  “Weird.  Very weird.”

Kymmie kept snapping pictures and the cat kept changing poses to mimic Taylor’s red carpet looks.  “So weird.  But also kind of cool because, I mean, you don’t see a cat posing for photos every day.  Do you think Taylor taught her cat how to pose like that?”

“I bet she did.  I feel like that’s something she would do.”  Justin replied.

After several poses the cat jumped off the chair.

Kymmie swiped through the photos and picked her favorites, then uploaded them in a post.

“Oooo I’ve already got hearts!  I literally just posted this!”

“What?  You posted them?”  Scott stepped towards Kymmie’s phone to see.  His voice contained a slight sense of urgency.

“Yeah, what did you think I was going to do?  That’s the point of taking a picture, so you can post it online. Why would you take a picture that no one is going to immediately look at and put hearts on it and write comments about?”

“Well, it’s about deciding and taking the time to decide who you want the photo to be shown to… You know, when I was your age, we had to wait to get pictures developed, or you could get them turned into slides to show them on a projector provided you had a projector and a screen and an audience to show them to…”

“Yeah yeah yeah…”  Kymmie waved him away.

“Yeah, get the times pops.”  Justin said.

“Me?”  Pop Wansel asked.

“Not YOU Pop, I mean Scotty B too hottie over here.  Slides… Photos developed, waiting for things?  Talk about dating yourself, dude.  No one has done that for, like, decades.  Everything’s instant now, like popcorn.  You know the only reason we’re in this mess is because of that Elvis Porter Easter Egg sound you found on tape.  TAPE!  Old technology got us in this mess in the first place.”

Pop interjected some of his wisdom into the situation.  “Well, there’s going to be messes no matter what technology you use.  Old or new, the mess will always exist.  Mess just finds a way no matter what the technology of the day happens to be.  That’s the human flaw.  We think we’ll be happier if we fix things.  If I could just fix this, or get beyond this current mess, or problem, or conundrum, all will be well.  But it’s not true, there’s always going to be problems, so happiness and contentment is in finding piece with the moment no matter what the situation is currently.  Sometimes you learn from the current situation to make a better decision that leads to a better outcome in the future.  And while it’s good to work towards making things better, no doubt, sometimes you have to accept some things the way they are in the moment, because not every problem can be fixed.”

“Like accepting that I posted the cat photos!”  Kymmie said making a face at Scott.

“You need to take the post down.”  Scott said with slight fear in his voice.

“What?  No!  Look at all these hearts I’m getting!  This is going to be trending in NO time.  And I will be famous.  Hello red carpet, here I come!”

“You know, the carpet isn’t always redder on the other side.”  The lawyer commented his perspective and a warning to Kymmie that maybe everything she is seeking isn’t waiting at the end of a red carpet rainbow.  Maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t.

“Taylor’s going to see it!  Her team of Swifties are Taylurking right now.”  Scott shouted.

“No they’re not, she’s busy getting ready for the show or whatever… Oooo I just got a comment!  WHOA.  Oh my god it’s from Emma Watson!  WHAT?  Whoaaaaaaa.  No way!  She said… ‘I see you found the cat.  That’s Mr. Whittington’s Cat – xx Emma.’ Weird.”  Kymmie looked up from her phone, “Mr. Whittington’s cat?  No it’s not, it’s Taylor’s cat.  It’s Taylor Swift’s cat.  Who’s Mr. Whittington?  What is she even talking about?  Why is Emma Watson commenting on my post?  What does she mean by I see you found the cat?  I’m going to comment back and ask her how she can tell it’s not Taylor’s cat.  Because this is TOTALLY Taylor’s cat.”

Kymmie commented and Emma immediately commented back.

“Wow, that was fast, how did she comment back so fast?  Okay, she said, you can tell by the cat collar, look at the collar, it says London Gold on the collar.  London Gold?  Oh yeah, it does say London Gold.  I wonder what that means…. London Gold… This is soooo crazy right now.  WHOA I’m getting more comments!”

“DELETE. THE. POST. NOW!”  Scott reached for the phone but Kymmie turned in the opposite direction, classic basketball move.  Scott caught an armful of air.

“What, why?  No.  Emma Watson commented on it!  I’m not going to delete it.  She’s a very high profile celebrity!  You obviously don’t know about the importance of reputation in the influencer game.  I’m going to ask her what London Gold means.”

She commented the question and, again, Emma immediately commented back, the comment was so quick it was as if she were simply thinking the comment instead of actually typing it out.

“She said, read the story of Dick Whittington’s cat.  Who’s Dick Whittington?  What’s so special about his cat?  Also, how did she write that reply so fast, no one can possibly type that fast!  Ooooo, she included a link, it says, ‘click on this link’.  Should I click on the link?”

“NO!  Don’t CLICK ON THAT!”  Scott shouted at her.  He reached out again for the phone but Kymmie was too quick.  She ducked, dribbled, passed the phone to Justin, and he passed it back to her.

“Delete it, or give me the phone.”  The lawyer said sternly.

“No.”  Kymmie argued back.  She tossed the phone back and forth to Justin, Kanye, Oak, and Pop as Scott and the Lawyer attempted to snatch the phone trying to catch it midair.

“Give me the phone or delete the post.  You have ten seconds.”  The lawyer began counting down from ten, like a parent not putting up with anymore from a child, “Ten, nine, eight…”

The phone landed back in Kymmie’s hands, “Fine!  Ugh.  I’ll delete it, let me just screen cap it first as proof for my friends…  Wait this is weird… It won’t let me even click on any options to screen cap.  It’s like my phone is stuck on this post.  I can’t do anything.  Let me try to get to the menu… It’s not letting me do anything now!  Here, look, I’m even trying to delete it, nothing is working.”

“What?!”  Scott said in a worried voice.

“It says this post is now managed by AlisonThirteen.  Who’s AlisonThirteen?  Only AlisonThirteen or a moderator from her team may modify or delete the post.”

“Oh no.”  Scott said, his eyes wide with fear.

“What?  Why did you say oh no?”  Kymmie said looking up from her phone.

“Never mind.  There’s nothing we can do about it now.”  Scott looked around the room seemingly searching for something, ‘but what am I looking for’, he thought to himself.

“Well, since I can’t delete it I’m going to comment back, it seems to still let me click on the comment box.  This is Taylor’s cat, not some Mr. Whittington’s cat.  Are you sure I shouldn’t just click on the link Emma sent?  I mean isn’t that what links are for?  Someone sends you a link, you just click, I mean, right?  Like, links have to be clicked!  You can’t not click on the link, you have to click it!  Don’t think, just click!”

“DO NOT CLICK ON ANY LINKS!”  The lawyer and Scott shouted at the same time.

“Okay fine, calm down.  I won’t click on it.  I’ll just ask Emma to tell me who Mr. Whittington is.”

“Technically you’re tapping on it, since you’re using your finger, clicking would indicate you have a mouse.  Anyway, speaking of mice, maybe the cat is both?  Maybe it’s Taylor’s cat and Mr. Whittington’s cat.  That is to say, if Taylor adopted it, perhaps it was someone else’s cat before it was hers.”  Everyone acknowledged Oak Felder’s wisdom.

“Well, but, that would make it Schrodinger’s cat.”  The lawyer added.

“Or, given our history, maybe she catnapped it.”  Justin offered, still annoyed about what the Swifties did to Sushi and Tuna.

“Whose cat?  I’m confused.”  The Arianator said after typing out a quick comment.

“It’s a thought experiment where the cat can be two things at the same time.  Taylor’s cat and Mr. Whittington’s cat.”

“I don’t get it.”  She replied.

“It’s like that song by One Direction.”  Oak began.  “She’s beautiful because she doesn’t know she’s beautiful and that’s what makes her beautiful.  But since he’s telling her she’s beautiful in the song, she now knows she’s beautiful.  So, can she still be beautiful, even though she now knows it, since not knowing she’s beautiful is what makes her beautiful?  In telling her that she’s beautiful, wouldn’t that change the statement because the state of her not knowing she is beautiful is what makes her beautiful.”

“Is there going to be an exam after this?  I feel like I should be taking notes.”  Justin asked.

“This is confusing.”  Kymmie replied.

“Or, maybe it’s the perspective of the person looking at the cat?”  Oak continued,  “It appears to be different depending on who looks at it.  Maybe it’s like looking in the mirror, unless you knew it was a mirror, and you had never seen an image of yourself so as to know what you look like, how would you know it’s a reflection?  The mirror would be the cat, but depending on who looks at the cat, that changes which cat is seen.”

“Wait… That’s strange…”  Kymmie said looking at the picture on her phone.  “Sorry, Oak, I’m listening to you, but also, I’m not.”

“What’s strange?”  Scott asked, his voice now more urgent sounding, a concerned tone.

“There’s something weird about this picture.  I can’t quite figure it out though.”  She stared at the phone.

“Let me see the photos….”  Scott walked over to her and put on a pair of glasses, then inspected the photos closely. “You’re taking these photos directly in front of the mirror, but I don’t see you in the mirror…  We need to get out of here.  This is a trap!”  His face looked as if he has seen a ghost.

“But, how does that work?  It’s so fascinating.”  She walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it.  She could clearly see her reflection.  She pulled out her phone to take a mirror selfie but remember the phone was locked to the post.  “Someone give me your phone!”  Justin tossed his phone to her.  She caught it and snapped a selfie.  “Weird. I’m not in the photo.  It’s just the mirror reflecting the wall behind me.”  She tossed the phone back to Justin.  Everyone else gathered around his phone to look at the photo.  The teen moved closer to the mirror.  She looked at her self and thought who else had stood before this very same mirror.  She fixed her hair.  How many others had fixed their hair while they looked at their reflection, their impurities, imperfectness—made perfect with makeup for the stage.  A peculiar thought popped into her head and she wondered the same thing about a song; if listening to a song were like looking in a mirror, or hearing into a mirror, how many others had also listened to that same song, any song.  Felt the same feelings.  Each and every song had a list of those who heard the song, and some lists for some songs included nearly everyone on the planet, while others just a select few.  There were undoubtedly songs that nearly everyone in the world had heard at one point another.  But, even with the same song everyone’s experience of that song is different.  Everyone has different memories, emotional responses, to some the song can mean one thing, and to another, something completely different, Taylor Swift’s cat or Mr. Whittington’s cat.  It’s the same cat, but we all view it differently.  But what if there were a way for everyone to feel the same way when listening to a song.  If you remove the reflection from the mirror, isn’t it the same experience for anyone who looks into it?  If we can’t see ourselves, we all see the same thing, right?

Conceivably the whole world could be connected together by a hand full of songs.  Wouldn’t it be such a strange sensation to somehow be able to connect with anyone who has ever listened to the same song as you?  Or what if such a song existed that everyone had listened to at least once, or even the entire world continued to listen to on repeat, a song connecting the entire human population together, as one.  Seeing everyone in the world, or rather hearing everyone as one mirror—an audio mirror.  But, what would an audio mirror look like, or sound like, or be like?

There’s feedback, when a microphone is pointed at a speaker, or a guitar is placed directly in front of an amp, but is that it?  It can’t be.  Feedback sounds terrible.  But, looking into a mirror is… captivating.  It would have to be like looking into a mirror.  Seeing one’s own reflection, but in the song.  Can one listen into a recording the way they can look into a mirror?  But instead of seeing you, it’s everyone; or maybe it’s blank, because a blank space has the potential to be anyone in that mirror.  But isn’t the possibility of reflection, at least, for sound, the absence of sound?  In which case, wouldn’t a sound mirror be… Shared silence?

If it’s not silence then how would a mirror for the ears even work?  Would it be like knowing you shared that song with others just as you can imagine others have looked in the same mirror as you?  She thought about how a song, could have the power to make you feel less imperfect, the right song could lift you up and make you feel amazing, just as makeup can conceal imperfections, make you feel a higher level of beautiful.  Music, in a way, is like makeup for your mind, and heart and soul… but it’s more than that, it has the power to make you feel an entire range of emotions.  Music can change your entire state of being on the inside and no one on the outside would ever know you changed.  It didn’t just cover something up like makeup did; it had the power to make you feel beautiful from the inside out.  To truly connect with a song either alone, with another person, or with the whole world, music could make you feel something that words can’t really describe.  And hearing the right song?  It changes you, sometimes, forever.

Suddenly the lights flickered.  They stayed for a moment in their dimly lit state before shutting off entirely.  A glowing silhouetted image of Taylor could be seen in the mirrors for only a second before fading away as the lights flickered back on.  Her song Style played.  Maybe it was Style, the duration of the clip was extremely short, so short that it was impossible to really tell if they had actually heard anything at all or just imagined it.  It was just a tiny bit of Style, just enough style, a small amount of Style.   The sound entered their ear drums and into their brains… No time to put on special Swiftie sound canceling headphones, no time to cover their ears....  They were quite possibly Swifted, ever so Swiftly, and yet ever so slightly, just a tiny little bit of Swiftie in their minds… We never go out of style… We never go out of Style…

Each of Taylor’s exes flashed in the makeup mirrors, as though they were trapped behind the mirrors, handwritten lyrics could be seen below each one of Taylor’s exes, their portrait glowed in the mirror, trapped behind the lyrics.

“Poor souls, trapped forever in the lyrics of songs… Taylor Swift, the spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers…”  Scott spoke quietly to himself, seemingly un-phased, as though he knew this day would eventually come, like he knew for years.  Scott knew the power of trapping someone in a song for all eternity, any good songwriter knew the power, and Taylor did too, she knew what it did, she knew it better than anyone, after all, her first hit song was named Tim McGraw… Write a song about someone and they are forever trapped in that song, and the more popular it becomes, the more trapped that person becomes.  Taylor was one of the best in the business; she could spin a song spell quite well, much better than most.  The spellbound maker of broken hearted lovers, she got rich and famous singing songs of wonder… Now we’re all under her spell.

They say you fight fire with fire, or in this case, an interruption with a distraction, and as everyone knows cats make the best distractions

“Okay this is kind of creeping me out a little.”  Justin admitted after the lights flicked back on full.

“What was that you said about how it’s like a fun house…” Kanye poked fun at The Biebs.

“Yeah, Ye, but, that was before any of this flickering lights and the man in the mirror stuff happened!”

“Yeah, I’m done with this cat, let’s go back!  Kymmie ran to the door that lead to the hallway and pushed against it, “The door…  It’s locked from the other side!  I don’t even remember there being a door here before!  I just remember we were in the hallway of black lights, and my shoelaces were glowing and then we walked in here, I know there was an open doorway but I don’t remember a door, and maybe it’s because I was paying too much attention to my glowing shoelaces, and the cat of course… Did anyone else remember a door?  Did anyone else hear it close?”  She franticly shoved her body against the door trying to open it.

“You need to calm down.”  A voice said.

“Okay, who said that… Because it didn’t sound like any of us.”  Kymmie backed away from the door, almost in tears, officially freaked the heck out.  “I’m officially freaked the heck out!”

“It wasn’t any of us...”  Scott said in an eerie ‘this is the end for us’ type of voice.

“There’s probably a speaker somewhere in the room and Taylor is just trying to messing with us by making it seem like the sound came from within the room.  EVERYONE, it’s okay, I have cats, I can handle this.”  Justin put his hands out and walked over to the cat.  “Okay cat… Unlock the door!”  Justin crouched in order to look the cat in the eyes.  The cat stared back for a few seconds.

           “You know I have a name.  It’s Tom.  My name is Tom.  Not… ‘Okay cat’.”  The cat said in a very royal British accent.

           Justin stood up and backed away.  “Did anyone else just hear the cat talk, or was that just me?”

           “Oh yes, yes, I believe the cat definitely just talked.  That was the cat talking is what that was.  Yes, that’s, uhhhh, that’s a, ummm, what do you call it, it’s uh… a talking cat. Yes, I believe, that’s uhhh, what that is.”  Scott said in his Jeff Goldblum voice.

“Holy crap, Taylor’s cat just talked!”  Kymmie yelled out, “Holy crap the cat just talked.  Taylor Swift’s cat just talked, you guys, TAYLOR SWIFT’S CAT JUST TALKED!!!  What is going on here? OH MY GOD, you guys, what the actual flipping heck is happening right now.  TAYLOR’S CAT TALKED!”  

“Yeah, we heard you the first time.  How many times are you going to say that?”  Justin said to Kymmie.

“Well, I’m sorry, JUSTIN, I’m kinda freaking out!”  Kymmie started to freak out fully.  “This is not real, I’m dreaming this right now, this is a dream and then I’m going to wake up and it’s not going to be real.  Cats don’t talk in real life.”  Her voice quivered with fear as the words escaped her mouth.

“Love,” The cat said still in a royal but now nonchalant British accent, “I do say, love, in the words of my very lovely owner, you really need to calm down.”

“Whaaaaaa… Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH!  Calm down?  I’m talking to Taylor Swift’s cat!  How am I supposed to calm down?   I just said that to a cat.  Oh my gosh… OH MY GOSH!!!  I just replied to a cat.  I’m talking to Taylor Swift’s cat!”

“Could you be a dear, love, and tell Emma I said hello.”

“Umm, what?  You’re telling me to comment back to tell Emma Watson that you say hello?”  Suddenly her fear floated away, and she felt peaceful, filled with love and complete calm.  Her fear changed to immediate curiosity.  “Okay.  I mean, sure.”  She said to the cat.  “Should I do it?”  She asked the room.

“I say go for it.”  The Biebs said also in a mellow tone.  “Why do I suddenly feel so relaxed?  This cat just seems so chill.  Like, he’s such a cool cat.  Cool cat… cooool… caaaat.”

“Why does the cat have a British accent?”  Kymmie asked.

“I don’ know, why?”  Justin answered.

“It’s not a joke.  I’m asking.”  Kymmie replied.

“Oh… Doesn’t Taylor take her cats over to England?”  Justin suggested as a possible explanation.

“Cat’s can’t get accents… CAT’S CANT TALK!”  Kymmie replied.

“Well apparently this one does.”  Justin replied back.

“No!  This is a trick.”  Scott struggled to shout.  “Don’t... talk… to it…”  His shouting melted away as he struggled to maintain intensity in his voice.  “No.”  He tried to fight the relaxing mellow feeling hitting his mind. Had he been Swifted?  He wondered.  He felt like that moment right after you wake up from a dream.  Reality seemed foggy.

“I mean, it is a talking cat.  How can we not talk to it?”  Oak Felder offered, he too now slightly subdued.  “I think Justin is right, I feel so… tranquil.”

“We can’t talk to it… Because, like, we have… Uh…  Ummm… something else we are supposed to be doing.  We neeeeeeeeed to contact… Billie.”  Scott reaffirmed.  He motioned with his hands to Kanye.  His hand eye coordination felt slightly off.  He felt like everything was in slow motion.

“Like, but it’s a talking cat.  Maaaaaaan.”  The Ariantor tried to argue back but she continued to feel more mellow, and free, and full of love.  “We’ve got plenty of time anyway.  Time is slooooooooooooooow right now.  And I’m sure Billie will call Justin when she can’t find us.”

“Yeah.”  He checked his phone.  “See, Mr. Scott B… no missed calls.  And full bars on my service.  And look how big the screen is right now.”  The screen appeared to Justin to be the size of a TV screen.  Everyone else saw the screen of his phone appear to grow right before their eyes.

“Whoaaaaaaaaa…”  They all said in unison.

“Well… Okay.”  Scott replied convinced as he possibly could muster in his catatonic like state.  He looked at Carl who looked at his watch then gave a concerned look back which eventually melted away to just a shrug of the shoulders.

“So, your name is Tom?”  Oak Felder inquired of the cat.

“Yes.  Ground control to Major Tom.  Tom here!”  The cat was peppy and spoke in a perfectly upbeat voice, a bit on the cheeky side though.  Everyone honed in on the voice unable to pay attention to anything else but the cat.

The Arianator made a face like she was thinking very hard.  “None of Taylor’s cats are named Tom.  So, you can’t be Taylor’s cat then.”  

“Ah, but you are undoubtedly misinformed.”

“How so?”  Oak asked further, curious.

“Was I not adopted?  Could I not have two names?  Could I not have an identify from a previous owner?  Or, maybe even a previous life!”

“Well… Yeah, I guess.”  Oak replied.  Everyone else nodded in agreement.

Scott broke free for a moment from his mellow state, “Everyone, stop talking to the cat!  He wants you to pay attention to him.”  Scott tried to intervene; he knew what the cat was up to.  He tried to shake off his euphoric Swiftie feeling, that feeling that he had just woken up from a dream but was still dreaming.  Shake it off, he thought, shake it off… Oh no… Taylor’s lyrics were just too infectious.  Shake it off… Shake it off…

Justin stepped forward.  “But, I have to know now, I have to know everything about this talking cat.  Plus, Scotty too hottie, just trust me, yo, Billie Eilish will call when she needs us all.   I just have a funny feeling she will, that’s all.”

“Nice rhyme bro.”  Kanye fist bumped Justin.

“Thanks.”  Justin gave his ‘cool’ look back that he often uses in a lot of photos.  The ‘I’m Justin Bieber level of cool because I am Justin Bieber’ look.  You know the look.

“I HAVE TO KNOW TOO!”  The Arianator said.  “I’m soooo curious.  I can’t explain it, like… I’m soooo curious to know.  I have to know.  I want to know, I NEED to know.  Look at the cat!  He’s sooooo cute.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the tale of Dick Whittington and his cat?”  The cat said his British accent, very royal sounding.  Like he could have been a cat for the Queen of England herself.  Except that the Queen of England has dogs… Doesn’t she?  I think so, yes, she does, I just looked it up.  She may have a cat, but I can’t find any search results that prove that.

“Ummm…”  The Arianator scratched her head.  Justin also thought for a moment.

“Oh no.”  Scott said in a quiet voice.

“What?”  The lawyer said back.

“This IS a trap.  Taylor IS trapping us.”  He looked around the room, not sure what he was looking for, mostly out of desperation for a solution, or a clue, anything.

“How do you know for sure?”  The lawyer said quietly to Scott.

“I just… know.  This is her.”

The teen held up her phone.  “Emma Watson just commented back, she said it’s definitely Dick Whittington’s cat.  Also she said, ‘Tell Tom I said hello, xx -E’.”  She looked at the cat.  “You talk to Emma Watson?”

“Yes.”  The cat replied.

“Do you talk to Taylor Swift too?”  She asked.

“Not like I chat with Emma, no, Taylor just knows my routine already, so there’s no need for human words.  She just knows me, as I am her cat.  We have an unspoken agreement.”

Kymmie thought for a moment.  “That makes sense… I think.  Wait… Why do you talk to Emma Watson?”

“Well, it’s a long story but… have you ever heard of the ten days of silence?”

“I think so, yeah.  Is that where you go somewhere and don’t speak for ten days?  You just sit there and meditate?”

“Close enough.  You see…”  The cat walked about the room as he spoke, “she’s one of the few individuals in the world who have successfully completed the ten days of silence.  When you spend ten days in silence you… Well, some individuals, anyway, with a certain predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’ start to experience alternative forms of worldly communication.  Your brain starts to seek out other ways to connect to other living beings.”

“But how?”  The Arianator asked, eager to know more.  Everyone else’s attention was fixated on the cat.  Everyone was eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.  They were completely forgetting they had somewhere else to be… at least for now.  But, that was the point, wasn’t it? Welcome to the game show called The Cat Always Wins… Staring Tom Whittington Swift, Taylor Swift, and a guest appearance by Emma Watson, and of course, our lovely contestants… Can they win against the cat or will the cat win again?  Find out, on The Cat Always Wins!  Spoiler alert, the cat always wins!

EDITOR: If the cat always wins, why would anyone watch that?

WRITER: Because, it’s a cat!  Also, it’s not a question of if the cat always wins, it’s a question of HOW the cat always wins!  It’s like how you know the good girl is always going to defeat the bad guy, but you watch it anyway to find out how!

EDITOR: Producer?

PRODUCER: Executive producer?

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: I’ll allow it.  Continue the story.

PRODUCER: Management likes it.  Allowed.

EDITOR: Okay, continue the story.

WRITER: Thanks, I will.  I’m glad I have a whole team of people who aren’t directly involved in creating this content telling me what I can and cannot write.

EDITOR, PRODUCER, EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: That’s what we’re here for!

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: I just pitched the show “The Cat Always Wins” to my bosses… The owners of everything.  They like it!  Hurry up and finish this so we can start working on The Cat Always Wins.

WRITER: It’s not a real show!

EXECUTIVE PRODUCER:  Well it won’t ever be with an attitude like that!  Let’s make it happen!  Think like the cat, because, remember, The Cat Always Wins!  We already bought the rights!

WRITER: So this is what it must be like to no longer have control of something you created.  To be at the whim of this creation that now controls your life.  Welcome to a new spin on the Taylor Swift’s Masters Ownership Story… The Cat Always Wins.

“Yeah.  How is that even possible?”  Justin inquired of the cat, eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.  Everyone was eager to know more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’.

“Well… It works just like any other form of communication.  What do you do when you need to talk to someone who isn’t nearby?”

“Umm…”  Justin scratched his head, pondering the question.  He felt groggy.  The Swiftie Style spell had clouded his thinking.

“You catcall them!”  The cat smiled.  They sat with blank faces.  “Okay, so, that was a joke, do any of you have a sense of humor?  You guys feline okay?  What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”  More blank faces.  “Wow, tough crowd in here.”

“I think I’m watching a cat trying to do stand up.  What is life right now?”  The teen started to laugh, sort or, it was an ‘almost’ laugh.  A bit of a ‘Ha… Ha…’

“If you need to speak to someone and they aren’t in the room, you call them on your cell phone.  Right?  Pick up the phone and call them!  You seek out an alternative form of communication!  Like how you’re waiting for a phone call from your friend Billie.  Right Justin?”

“Ohhhhh.”  Everyone nodded.

“So, she can talk to cats after doing the ten days of silence thing?  Like someone would pick up a phone and call someone?  Although, who does THAT anymore, just message me.”

“I know right?”  Everyone agreed.  Well, everyone but Scott.

“I still talk on the phone.”  Scott said.

“Don’t make me say it.”  Justin said back.

“Say what?” Scott asked.

“Get with the times pops!”

“I get the New York Times delivered digitally to my phone, does that count?”  Scott stated.

“Well, that’s a start.”  Justin replied approvingly.

“YOU GUYS!  Let the cat tell us more about Emma Watson’s predisposition to ‘clairvoyant abilities’!” Kymmie said in a strong voice, she was trying to yell but it came out as a half whisper.

“Sorry.  Go on cat.”  Justin pointed to the cat.

“Where was I?  Oh, yes, well, she can do a lot more than just talk to cats.  Emma Watson’s powers of communications are unlike anyone else you’ve ever met she has the ability to communicate beyond—“

“WAIT, hang on, who is Dick Whittington?”  Kymmie interrupted.  Just then her phone began to buzz and make noises like an arcade game or pinball machine, “WHOA, there are more celebrities commenting on this post! Florence Pugh just commented too!  You are quite the popular cat, you know that?  At least with famous British actresses it seems.  Do you talk to Florence too?”  Kymmie asked.

“Well, I have been known to draw a crowd or two.  Especially in and around London.”  The cat smiled confidently then purred slightly. “To answer your question, no, I don’t chat with Florence, only Emma.  Ten days of silence, remember?  Anyway, where was I?  Ah yes, the story of Dick Whittington.  Well, it goes as follows, a cat named Tom, made a fellow named Mr. Whittington wealthy because the cat had the ability to chase off rats.”

“But, aren’t YOU Mr. Whittington’s cat?”  The lawyer cross-examined the cat suspiciously.  “Or are you Taylor’s Cat?”

“Mmmmm hmmm.”  The cat replied.

“Well which is it?”  The lawyer leaned in.  “State who’s cat you are for the jury!”

“Hold on… When did this story take place?”  Justin asked, “Because I’m looking it up on my phone here and the story seems a lot older than you look.”  He held the giant phone up for everyone to see, and pulled out a laser pointer to emphasize his point, a presentation for all those present, just as one would make in a class or business meeting.  The cat resisted the urge to chase the red laser.

“Ah, but perhaps, I have many lives.  Nine?  Or perhaps, I live longer than most cats.  I could be an old soul, Mr. Whittington’s cat, in a new body, Taylor Swift’s cat.”

“Mmm hmmmm… Well, Mr. Whittington’s cat, if you are who you say you are, shouldn’t you be chasing rats then?”  The lawyer grabbed the laser pointer out of Justin Bieber’s hand and aimed it on the floor.  The cat pawed at it a few times then stopped himself, not giving in to the lawyer’s tricks.

“Chasing away rats is what I do best.”  He said with a smirk, then snickered.  Two other snickers could be heard from elsewhere.  The snickers of two other cats—creeping somewhere in the shadows.

“Okay, well, Mr. Whittington’s cat, shouldn’t you be chasing rats RIGHT NOW then?”  The lawyer counter argued.

“I am.”  Mr. Whittington’s cat replied.  The two unseen cats snickered again.

“What?” Justin said, taken aback by Scott’s facial reaction to what the cat had just said.  Everyone stared at Scott.  It was as though all the blood had drained entirely from Scott’s face, he looked woozy.

Scott let out a gasp, “Oh no… We’re the rats!” He exclaimed in a quiet voice.

The cat sprawled out on the floor holding his paws up turning his head to look at everyone upside down, a distractingly cute pose, “Uh, what I mean to say is, did you know that Emma Watson is going to be the next Queen of England?”

“No she’s not.”  Kymmie argued back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Stop trying to change the subject there, Tom!”  Scott walked over to face the cat.

“I am doing no such thing, I am simply stating a fact.  And given that YOU still haven’t told Emma I said hello, I think that I have the floor!  Additionally, considering that I have four appendages and you all only have two, that counts doubly for me.”

“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE!”  Scott huffed.  “That’s not how it works, you’re a cat you have four feet!  Also, none of your paws are on the floor right now, they’re all up in the air and you’re waiving them around like you just don’t care!  You don’t have the floor at all!”

“Well, it’s a metaphorical floor… Or metafloorical if you will… Ohhhh, zing…  Thanks, I’ll be here all night!”  The other two mystery cats snickered, “And so will you…” Thomas Whittington Swift said in a quiet voice.

“Stop trying to distract us, I want to go back to what you said before… Hang on, what do you mean by, and so will you, I HEARD that…”  Scott stared at the cat dubiously.

“What was I saying before?  Oh yes, about Emma Watson being the next Queen of England, I agree, we should discuss that!”

“No, that’s not what I was referring to… “  Scott replied pointing his index finger at the cat.  

WRITER: Oh that’s too perfect, we’re gonna “yes and” that meme reference, let’s run with that bit…

We see Kymmie rush over to Scott’s side.  And, we see, a plate of food sitting on a table appear in front of the cat.  And the cat is now sitting behind the table with the plate of food on the table in front of the cat.  Scott points at the cat with an upset look on his face and Kymmie stands beside Scott.  She has an upset look on her face too.  They’re both yelling at the cat.

And continue scene…

“No hold on, Tom, you know it’s just not possible for Emma to be the next Queen of England.  She’s not in the royal family.”  Oak pointed out that very important detail that would stop Emma from ever becoming Queen of England.

“Give me one reason why Emma wouldn’t make a good Queen of England?”  The cat questioned his court.

Everyone stood silent, unable to come up with an objection to the statement.  “The cat makes a good point.” Kymmie said.

“I don’t have an counterargument against that exact suggestion.”  Oak stated.

“Emma is IN like a gin and tonic at a dancehall.”  The cat said springing to his feet and tossing the plate of food off the table, he jumped up onto the table and walked around like he was on the floor of congress, or parliament—or on the table of congress or parliament because he’s on a table.

“That doesn’t make sense.  We’re not saying she wouldn’t make a good Queen, we’re just saying you know there are other people in the royal family, right?  There are so many people in line to be next, and Emma Watson is NOT one of those people!  Obviously, if she were, according to the governing law, in line for the throne, she would surely be fit for Queen of England.  I’m sure not a single person would object.”  The lawyer joined the Emma Watson for Queen of England debate and argued his talking point.

“But perhaps she could be an honorary member of the family.  Or, maybe, she secretly IS next in line…”  The cat purred, satisfied with his debate performance.

“The cat is lying to us!”  Scott finally managed to break free from the Style spell and fully wake from the relaxed state…   “Everyone we’re getting off topic here!  We’re letting the cat distract us from what we need to do!”

The cat spoke swiftly, “Why would I lie?  I have no reason to lie.  I was just lying down, yes, but that’s a different kind of lie.  Lie, lay… Lying.”  More snickering from the two mystery cats hidden in the shadows.

“No, no, no, everyone, quiet!”  Kymmie yelled.  “I’m going to win this argument.  I’m asking her right now on this comment post if she is part of the royal family.”  The teen typed on her phone.

“Tell her I said hello too!”  The casual cat slid the comment in very smoothly.

Kymmie stopped typing.  “Wait, if you and Emma can talk through your minds, or whatever, why am passing notes back and forth between the two of you like we’re in grade school!  Can’t you just say hello to each other through your minds?”  She asked.

“Oh, sure, we’re talking right now.  We just think it’s fun.”  The cat said with a smile.  “Haven’t you ever messaged someone from your phone who was sitting in the same room as you.”

“Oh yeah.  I guess that make sense.”  Kymmie said, she’d totally done that.  Sometimes you’re sitting there watching TV or a movie and you want to hear the show, but also want to talk to your friend.  Or if there’s another friend in the room and you want to say something to one of your friends about the other friend…  Kymmie eyed the cat suspiciously.  They’re talking about us, she thought.

“This is ridiculous, we’re fighting with Taylor Swift’s cat!”  Scott tried to convince the others.

“Mr. Whittington’s cat.”  Justin corrected him.

“WHATEVER!  We need to focus.   We’re arguing with a cat!”  Scott knew that time was running out.

“But it’s a talking cat.”  Justin argued still under that small amount of Swiftie Spell and it’s anyone’s guess how it was interacting with his Selena earworm.  So far there didn’t seem to be any side effects, but one never knows when you start combining song spells and earworms together.  It’s a dangerous concoction.

“I’m commenting to Emma right now.”  Kymmie said waving away Scott’s sass.

“Well she’s not going to tell you.  It’s highly secret you know.  Only a few know.  And I’m one of those few.”  Mr. Whittington Swift Cat said with a cunning smile.

“This cat is messing with us—”

“Taylor Swift’s cat—”  The teen corrected Scott.

“Mr. Whittington’s cat—“ Oak corrected Kymmie.

“Emma Watson’s cat?”  The lawyer offered.

“Schrodinger’s cat.”  Pop proclaimed.

“Cat Steven’s cat.”  Justin added.

“Cat Steven’s cat?”  Kanye questioned.

“I thought we were playing one of those imrov comedy games where you name the object, and you substitute different names, I’m sure there’s an official improv comedy name for this kind of scene work, I’m drawing a blank right now.  I’m not a regular improviser… sooo… Just go with it.  Yes and.”  Justin shrugged.  “Cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon, ‘when you coming home, dad?’ ‘I don't know when’, but we'll get together then, you know we'll have a good time then…”  

Never combine earworms and song spells, it may make the person lose their mind.  Of course, the effect is only temporary.

“—WHOEVER’S CAT THIS IS, it’s messing with our minds!”  Scott shouted.

“Now why would I do such a thing as to mess with you?  Did you ask Emma Watson about her royal status yet?”  The cat sat resting his chin on his paw.

“Yes, she said to ask you.  Also she said ‘hello’ back.  Also, also, Emma suggested naming you Kit Cat.”  Kymmie read the comment aloud.

“Give me a break.”  Scott put his palm to his face, which was something you used to be able to do back in the day before the great virus circled the world and face palming became a thing of the past because no one was allowed to touch one’s face anymore.

EDITOR: Yeah, that’s realistic.  No one is allowed to touch their face?  Man you come up with the weirdest stuff.

WRITER: Oh you just wait, it’s gonna get way weirder.  I’m just getting started.  It’s a game of musical chairs and the game doesn’t end until there’s a winner.

EDITOR: You’re so weird.

WRITER: THIS IS WHAT WRITERS DO WHEN THEY ARE STUCK IN QUARANTINE.  Don’t leave your house.  If you leave your house, you might hear the song, and if you hear the song, you will NEVER get it out of your head, you become one of them!  DANCE MONKEY DANCE!

EDITOR:  What if I’ve already heard the song?

WRITER: It’s too late… Just dance.  Just sing.  Just sing, and dance… The only way out is a more addictive song and the cycle begins again until you hear an even more addictive song, and that cycle goes until you hear the song that you can NEVER get out of your head.  Unless, someone write’s an antidote song…  Dance… Monkey… Dance… Australian sound, Australian crosswalk sound… Billie Eiliish… Taylor Swift… Music is infected, soundtracks are infected, laugh tracks are infected, Foley artist created sounds in films are infected… Ten days of silence, shhhh listen, can you hear it?  Emma Watson will save the world with silence!

EDITOR: What do you mean by Emma Watson will save the world with silence?

WRITER: Shhhhhhhhhh… Listen to the silence… of no one talking… Just writing and reading… Shhhhh… Just sit there and try to listen to Emma Watson’s thoughts, as she reads her books.

EDITOR: How am I supposed to hear Emma Watson’s thoughts?  That’s impossible.  No one can hear her thoughts except her.  I’d just be siting here silent listening to nothing.

WRITER: That’s the point.  Sit quietly and listen, until you can hear Emma Watson’s thoughts in your head.

EDITOR:  So you just want me to sit there while you write?

WRITER: Yep.  Oh, just a warning, make sure you don’t accidentally think her thoughts as your own, just listen to them.

EDITOR: Okay fine, whatever, I will sit here and try to read Emma Watson’s mind, or listen to her thoughts, or whatever, while you write.  And since we all know it’s impossible to hear someone’s thoughts, I’ll just sit here quietly.  So you could just say that instead of trying to be all mysteriously cool trying to convince me there’s a way to read people’s minds or that Emma Watson is some come of chosen oracle that will one day save the world.

WRITER: Thank you.

EDITOR: Wait, what do you mean think her thoughts as my own?

WRITER: Shhhhhhhh… Don’t think… Just listen… Be in the present… Let Emma Watson be your thought guide…

EDITOR: *Rolls eyes*

“Okay, we’re not playing games anymore.  Or, at least the name the cat game.”  The lawyer responded in a flat tone of voice.

“Awwwwww.”  The cat purred in response to Emma’s hello back to him.  “So, it is.”

“It is what?”  Scott demanded.

“It is time for us to go to London!”  The cat announced.

“London?  We have somewhere else to be!  Why do we want to go to London?”

“Why, my friend Scott… To find out, of course!  We must find out the answer to the Emma Watson question!  Is she going to be the next Queen of England?  Her Grace, Ms. Emma Watson of Windsor Castle!  HER MAJESTY Emma Charlotte Duerre Watson of Buckingham Palace!”  The cat held a paw up in the air pointing the way.

Just as the cat tossed a paw into the air the lights went out again, and then in each of the mirrors they could see the flicker of faces appear and disappear.  Each face glowed for a moment, then faded away.  One of the faces, Scott was positive, was Elvis, Elvis himself.  He made out a few of the others, he was positive Tom Petty was there, along with Prince.  Janis Joplin, even!  David Bowie.  Whitney Houston.  Wow.  They all flashed so fast that it was impossible to recognize more than a small number.  The only commonality was that they were iconic musicians no longer living among us.  Each one of the faces, perhaps coincidentally (and perhaps not), had a corresponding trust managed by The Whale himself.  Personally appointed by way of a signed retroactive power of appointment that gave The Whale sole trustee guardianship.  The signatures of course, were not exactly on the line for any of the legally binding documents, but that minor detail didn’t seem to matter to the notary public, the witness of each signed document, or the reviewing judge who denied any and all appeals with prejudice.  The objector, respondent, and petitioner were all informed of the trust’s fate by certified mail.  The Hollywood Whales sent a representative from each of their pods to pick up the individual trust packets personally.  As was customary of The Whales of Hollywood.

When the lights came back on, a previously shut door on the opposite side of the room, had opened.  The cat stood at the edge of that door.

A sign in Taylor Swift’s handwriting read “To The Stage Door” but it was crossed out, and under it was written “To London”.

“You can’t give up now!  Onwards to London!”  The cat shouted.

The lawyer pulled Scott aside and spoke to him.  “London?  We don’t want to go to—”

“Just follow him.”  Scott said in a sour tone.  “We’re not actually going to London, there’s no possible way that’s a doorway to London.  We’re in LA!  I’m sure it just leads further into the building, there has to be a way.  We’re dealing with a cat, it’s not like we’re up against a whole army of Taylor Swift’s Swifties, The Swift Army.  it’s a cat, Carl.  I’m sure we can figure this out.”

They could hear noise, very low, it sounded like idle chatter, people filling into an open auditorium.  Guests were taking their seats for the 2019 American Music Awards.

“Oh no.  It’s starting soon!”  The lawyer announced.

“We have no choice.  We have to go!”  Scott commanded.

“Just uh, timeout for a second, you do realize you’re trusting a cat on which way to go right?”  Oak asked, just confirming the current situation.

“Well we don’t exactly have any other options right now do we?!”  Scott said.

“You dirty rat.”  The cat suddenly belted out.

“Are you saying that to us?”  Scott asked the cat.

“I just like saying that.”  The cat smiled.

“Well can you say something else?”  Scott replied.

“Say hello to my little friend.”  He said, as another cat appeared in the doorway.

“WHOA, it’s another one of Taylor’s cats!”  The Arianator pulled out her camera to take another photo, but remembered her phone was locked.

“And say hello to my other little friend.”  The second snickering cat appeared on the other side of the cat named Thomas Whittington Swift Schrodinger.

“Do they talk too?”  She asked.

“No.”  The cats snickered.  “They just snicker.”

“You dirty rat…”

“Okay, can you seriously stop saying that, can you just stop saying that.”  Scott was very annoyed, now slightly agitated.

“Sorry.”  The cat said back.  “It’s just a force of habit, you know, after all, I’m always looking for rats!”

“Let me try to handle this again.”  Justin stepped towards the cats,  “Okay cat stop talking right now.”  Justin said, trying his tactic from earlier.

The cat meowed.  The two cats snickered.

“See, he’s not talking anymore.”  Justin said.  “I’m the cat whisperer!”

The cat meowed again.

“Stop meowing.”  Scott was beyond annoyed.

The cat purred loudly.

“Stop making sounds of any kind!”  Scott shouted. “Let’s just go.  At this point I don’t even care where you’re taking us.”

Taylor Swift’s cats smiled and turned to lead the way.  Welcome, my friends, to the series premier of The Cat Always Wins.

@taylorswift

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