Disclaimer: The lovely little kittens are not mine, they belong to ALW and T.S. Eliot. The little song is from Cabaret and doesn't belong to me either. That all clear? Good.

This is a story written especially for PDT, my LJ buddy. I yoinked five of her interests and put them in a fic. ) It's fun. And now I'll shut up and let you read the damn thing.

The Tale of the Tiger

The house was calm and silent. It was not a house where one could imagine anything bad to happen, or even anything really interesting to happen at all. In a basket by the radiator, there laid a pair of adorable little kittens. They were so much alike that they could be brother and sister, which was in fact the case. Their coats were a mix of red, black and white, and they were, apparently, asleep.

Or so it seemed. Because when the tom noticed how silent the house had become, he opened his eyes and looked around. His face split in a wide grin, and he gave his sister a gentle push.

"Teaze? Teaze, wake up!"

Rumpleteazer blinked sleepily and yawned. "Wha'?"

"We're alone." Her brother grinned again and jumped down on the newly polished wooden floor in the living room, where they slept. "C'mon."

Suddenly completely awake, Rumpleteazer giggled in delight and received a hushing from Mungojerrie. Together the siblings snuck out into the hallway. There they stopped and listened.

"You hear somethin'?" asked Mungojerrie.

"Someone's singin'," said his sister and nodded towards the half-open door into the kitchen, from which there came a pleasant smell of newly baked bread.

Mungojerrie snorted. "I knew tha'. I was jus' testin' ya."

"Uh-huh. Seems we're not alone, after all."

They padded their way over to the door and peeked into the kitchen. There they saw their mistress, a human queen named Helena. The siblings rather liked her, she used to give them a treat or two when the master wasn't looking, but that wouldn't stop them from playing a prank on her sometimes.

Helena was baking bread. There was a gentle mist of flour hovering over the kitchen, tickling the kittens' noses. Mungojerrie sneezed, and his sister wasn't far behind. Both of them shook their heads violently to get rid of the peculiar feeling in their noses.

"Life is a cabaret, old chum, so come to the cabaret..."

Fortunately, Helena was singing too loud for her to hear the kittens outside her kitchen, thus giving the mischievous pair a chance to surprise her.

"She's wearin' her pink an' fluffy slippers, she is," growled Mungojerrie, trying his best to make himself sound terrifying. It didn't work very well. "I HATE pink an' fluffy slippers!"

Lithely as a tiger (he thought), the young tom snuck into the kitchen and hid under the table. Rumpleteazer followed him, of course. She would've followed him anywhere.

"Patiently, the tiger is waitin' for 'is prey," said Mungojerrie and stroked back his ears. He sometimes liked to narrate his life, as if he wanted to make it more intriguing that way. "The air is thick with the smell of it, and it is terrified of the wild beast..."

In reality, the air smelled of nothing else than the scones, and the pink, fluffy slippers felt no terror by the thought of the kitten hiding under the table.

"Slowly, the tiger creeps closer, 'is muscles are playing in the dim, green light of the jungle, and 'is eyes are focusing on one thing, and one thing only... 'is prey. It waits for 'im, too afraid to even move, as if entranced by 'is deadly beauty."

Rumpleteazer hid her giggles as her brother crept close to the floor, his tail wagging lazily behind him. His eyes were glistening, both from the story he was telling and the excitement of his pretend-hunt. Any moment now, the sli- the prey was just nearby...

"And sudd'nly 'e pounces!" he shouted in glee and took one great jump. "Woo-hoo!"

It was indeed an impressing jump, a magnificent arc or splendour and wonderment.

It was just too bad that he completely missed the target. Instead of landing on the slippers, Mungojerrie's leap brought him down on the floor, and his speed made him slide into the stove. He yowled in surprise and pain as he hit his head.

There was a scream, not in fear, as the tom would've preferred, but in worry.

In his dizziness, he didn't really notice that Helena scooped him up in her arms.

"Oh Timmy, do you have to play so violently?" she cooed while stroking him gently to see if he was badly hurt. "I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times: You should not be in the kitchen. Is that so hard for your little head to take in?"

Mungojerrie tilted his head and meowed. Helena chuckled, and then she bent down to look under the table. Rumpleteazer blinked at her.

"And you brought your little sis as well," the mistress smiled. "Well, out of here, both of you rascals. I have to get me scones ready for when Sarah and Michael comes home."

She picked up Rumpleteazer and went out into the hallway. There she put them down, went back into the kitchen, and closed the door.

Mungojerrie was sulking. He had been SO close to catching those horrid slippers. SO close!

Rumpleteazer put a comforting paw on his shoulder. "You'll get it next time, Jerr," she said kindly.

Her brother straightened himself. "'Course I will. I'm the best hunter there is."

"You are." Rumpleteazer grinned and nodded towards the stairs to the second floor of the house. "Now c'mon. I discovered a jewellery box in Sarah's bedroom yesterday. There is a pearl necklace there that I'd like to take another look at..."