War:  Cousins:  I Hates Meeses To Pieces  (1/2)

by Cousine Celeste

Appearance by McLisa and her buddy, the McMoose, with thanks

At the Raven during the party
Directly after “Spoonerisms Cake The Take”
July 6,  8:00pm or 9ish

 From the “Friendship vs. Factions!” chapter of “FK War for Dummies”:
“You should be aware that sometimes the people you think are your good,
true friends are actually screwing with your mind.  This phenomenon is most
prevalent in the various Cousinly factions.”


Cousine Celeste wove her way carefully through the crowd, looking for
Ratpacker Lisa “McLisa” McDavid.  Her mission:  to give the dipsomaniacal
ex-Cousin a good talking-to. At best, she might set the McCousin back upon
the path of righteousness and Cousinlyness, at the very least, she'd be
covering her bases with an annoyed LaCroix ("I *tried*, sir!  I really
tried!")  The very idea, a Cousin turning into a Ratpacker!  Especially
McLisa, who’d been a part-time feline for several of the more recent
wars.  Talk about bi-polar!

A thorough search of the bar produced *lots* of blackmail material, but no
Ratly ex-Cousin.  Celeste sighed deeply, giving it up for a bad
job.  Feeling a bit peckish, she went over to one of the elaborately
decorated munchies tables provided by the Ravenettes, which proved to be
the cheese table.  Taking a whole-grain cracker, she topped it off with a
nice oozy bit of brie, and was just about to pop it into her mouth, when
something tugged at her skirt.

“Gah!” shrieked the Cousine, her tid-bit flying into the air as she jumped
back at least two feet, narrowly missing a pair of Knighties doing the frug.

“When eating cheese-n-crackers, my moose always says ‘Havarti makes the
party’,” said a voice from beneath the cheese table.

Celeste knelt down and pulled the snowy-white linen tablecloth to one side,
revealing the Ratly ex-Cousin, McLisa, who peered up at her innocently.

“Havarti?” said the Cousine.

“Gouda,” answered McLisa, trailing off into a stream of snarky giggles,
extraordinarily self-amused.  “Get it?  ‘How are you?’ ‘Good!’”  She pulled
an entire wedge of Havarti out of her pocket, no doubt nicked from the
cheese table above her, and began nibbling at it exactly the way a mouse
nibbles at a bit of cheese.

The Cousine frowned.  “Now cut that out.  First off, I Am Not A Straight
Man.  That’s practically my mantra.  Secondly, You Are Not A Ratsie.  Get
up from outa there, come on.”  She held her hand out and McLisa put one of
her cheese-smeared paws into it, allowing herself to be pulled to her
feet.  Except for a liberal dusting of cracker-crumbs garnish down her
front, she was dressed properly for a Raven party, in a pretty black dress
covered with a trellis pattern of roses.  “Don’t we look ever so *nice*;
well at least for an insane person who’s been hiding under a
table?  Hmmmmm?” the Cousine said as she brushed off the crumbs.

“My moose says, ‘Hiss and leer, there’s no excuse for mad banners,” said
McLisa.

The Cousine contemplated that little haiku for a moment, then smiled.  “I
think what your moose is trying to say is, ‘Listen here, there’s no excuse
for bad manners.’  What’s your moose’s name, Reverend Spooner?  Oh, what am
I saying -- you don’t *have* a moose, and anyways nobody has worse manners
than *you*!”

McLisa smiled in a stomach-turning fashion.  “I’m sorry, if you were right,
I’d agree with you.  But as it happens, I *do* have a moose.”  The smile
got, if anything, more insane.

The Cousine noticed McLisa hadn’t tried to argue with her about the ‘worse
manners’ crack.  “Okay, babe; if you got a moose, please feel free to show
it to me.”

McLisa’s eyes got very round and scared.  “N-n-now?” she quavered.

“Damn straight!  Right *now*!”

“Okey-dokey,” said the Ratly ex-Cousin, bouncing on her feet a little
before skipping out the door.  The Cousine followed closely, feeling a
little suckered.

It was a lovely July evening outside the Raven, the sun still in the sky,
though low on the horizon.  McLisa made a right at the front door, then
right again, into the alleyway next to the building.

“Nononononononono!” cried the Cousine.  “I do NOT want to go down the
Raven’s alley! Honkin’ weird *things* from freakin’ *hell* live down that
alley!”

“That’s why it was the perfect place to stash the moose!” called McLisa
back to her, disappearing into the shadows.

Against her better judgment, Celeste followed.  A few yards down the
alleyway, a stack of oil-stained paper bags leaned against the building…
rustling.  With a shudder, the Cousine stepped carefully around them.  On
the other side, a passel of glowing, pink ratsies had nibbled holes in the
bags, pulling out what proved to be party set-up leftovers:  a little
ratsie feast of bruised fruit and cheese rinds.  They all stopped to regard
her, deeply pink eyes boring into her with a creepy preternatural
intelligence.  “Eeeeee-*YEEEEEW*!”

“Don’t mind her, she’s a friend of mine!” came McLisa’s voice further down
the alley, from around the corner.

“Yeah.  Yeah, me ‘n’ McLisa; we’re real good buddies,” said the Cousine to
the ratsies in desperate fear, inching past them.  She had just reached the
corner of the building, when a clop-clop-clopping noise from around the
back stopped her in her tracks.  “Y-y-you got c-c-coconut shells b-b-back
there, McLisa?” she stuttered.

Without answering, McLisa came around the side of the building leading a
large, shiny-black, be-starred moose by a cord with a microphone attached
to it.  What looked like LaCroix's death-mask was attached to its face.

“I don’t know what I expected,” said the Cousine.  “But *that* wasn’t it.”


To be continued in "I Hates Meeses To Pieces  (2/2)"