The Week

Chapter 4

The second Grayfellow edged in the door, he heard a rabid screech.

"Well, that's a bad sign", he muttered to himself.

Batwing popped around a corner. He looked terrified. "Everything is wet and cats look like demons when washed." Grayfellow nodded. He heard a loud yowl and watched Meowz, her fur plastered to her skin, two sad blue eyes peeking out, hurtle down the steps. Then his boyfriend, Bzzr, tripping down the steps, covered in cat hair and wearing a large poncho, shouted "Stop getting away!" Batwing looked up.

"I told you cats didn't need to be washed."

He glared, soaked. Grayfellow studied him with concern. "Are you full blaze?" "Half. Only reason I'm still alive. Because this idiot won't wash a cat." Batwing groaned. "You don't wash cats. You never, ever wash a cat." Meowz whimpered at the foot of the steps. "I'm so cold." Batwing glared at Bzzr, who sighed. "I...I have miscalculated many things. Alright, babe?"

"I...you don't wash cats, and you...where is Tufty?"

Grayfellow interrupted. "Over there, beneath the table, covered in breadcrumbs." Bzzr glared at Batwing, who groaned. "I swear it was closed." Grayfellow froze. "You just eat breadcrumbs?" "No, it was for a recipe and-" Tufty looked up from the overturned can. "They washed us." Grayfellow looked over at them. "Why did you do that, anyways?"

Bzzr groaned. "I pet-groom hoglins. I thought I could do cats. And they need to look good for the thing tonight, right?" Batwing sighed. "Bzzr, I love you, but don't soak cats in water and attempt to blow-dry them with a fire tornado." "This is what you signed up for when we got offical, alright?" Batwing sighed. "Fine. But I'm not getting anywhere near those things with a blow drier." "...Fine."

Grayfellow beckoned. "Bat, a word."

Bzzr looked over suspiciously. "Can I come?"

Grayfellow shook his head. "I just want to talk to him about the Fortress for a minute. Don't worry." Batwing frowned. "Alright. But don't take too long, alright?"