Mr. Flaggerbottom

Mr. Flaggerbottom was a fine cat, a fine cat indeed. He listened to classical and drank nothing but Mead. He wore a long tuxedo and a top hat so high and had a small golden monocle adorned on his eye. Mr. Flaggerbottom perched himself in an oak tree twelve feet toward the sky; he sat pleasantly waving at all the passerby. Never did Flaggerbottom ever think that before his climb he should, perhaps, check his sink. His sink was adorned with marble and gold, an odd sort of thing in a house so old. His house was in shambles falling apart at the seams; you see Mr. Flaggerbottom’s favorite place was his tree. His poor little wife died just last year of purple muck found in her ear. He cried very hard and then his life changed; this fine little man became a little deranged. He taped his ties to the radio and tied his socks to the car; he’d bathed all his plants in feathers and tar. He plunged the holes where the gophers dug and painted bleach spots on his Persian rug. One day at the market he bought a fine gallon of blue ink and funny little Flaggerbottom poured it all down the sink. He turned on the faucet before going to change, his tux, hat and monocle he’d vigilantly arrange. Then he’d climb high up in his oak and would wave merrily at all the neighborhood folk.

“Hello children! Hello woman! Hello yellow dog!

"Hello tiny sparrow sitting on my log!”

“Hello Mr. Flaggerbottom!” They all would reply, waving their hands happily to the man up so high.

Feeling whimsical as pretty Miss Muller passed, he kicked off his shoes incredibly fast.

“My dear Miss Muller, would you be so kind? As to relinquish my shoes, I’m in quite a bind. I’d like to jump down and kiss your knees, but my feet are as cold as strawberry cheese.”

“Mr. Flaggerbottom, hello,” she said as she picked up a shoe, “my, oh my! Mr. Flaggerbottom, your whole patio is blue!”

“Why that’s a simple explanation Miss Muller, I simply thought I’d try a new color.”