On the one month anniversary (which is basically a full year in cat years) of King Zirk’s reign at the cat cafe, Haman closed down the shop after a long shift. He turned off the lights, closed the blinds and pulled out a pair of dice he found in a board game kept along the side wall. He stared at the dice long and hard before pouring himself a glass of red wine without paying (it’s a licensed cat cafe).
His fellow cat councillor, Hermes, who serves along side Haman in the King’s counsel, sat next to him on the counter as Haman gulped down a full glass of wine.
“Gonna do it?” dared Hermes.
Haman squinted and poured himself another glass, “I’m doing it.”
“Good,” said Hermes, “It’s not right for that Morty to disrespect you like that. You’re the prime minister of The Castle, for Cupid’s sake! You’ve gotta do something about it. If you don’t, people will start following Morty’s lead and we’ll have a revolt on our hands.”
“I said I’ll take care of it!” howled Haman. And with that, he picked up the dice and cast his lots. The first roll would decide the month he would make his attack against Morty and his friends. The second roll would decide the day.
Shake, shake, inhale.
Close your eyes and toss.
3 + 1 = 4. March.
Shake, shake, inhale.
Close your eyes and toss.
6 and 3 = 9th.
March 9th. That would be the day he’d eradicate all the Jews like Morty from The Castle. Of all the cats who refuse to bow down to him.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Haman is sometimes what I feel like as a Christian living in a fallen world. It’s how I feel when I realize I’ve sinned. It’s how guilt feels. Cringy. How we are one part human with sinful natures and another part claimed by Christ, free from the sins that held us before. To me, he’s the tug of flesh against spirit… the metaphor is imperfect. Which nature is the spirit? Which is the flesh? The cat-side or the human-side? I don’t know. The image of Haman as a man-beast may not work and I might have to make him a full cat later. We’ll see. It just felt right at the time.
Also, I need to figure out who exactly is Jewish in this story. Right now I only have Morty and Myrtle but there are more. I just need to figure that part of the story out. It’s a hole in the design of my kitten world. I’ll have to figure it out later. Need to power through this story and I’ll deal with the details later.
All the cats in King Zirk’s counsel sat beneath his mantle on the fireplace. They discussed the minutes from last meeting, plus policies and procedures. How the cat food would be distributed. How to welcome the newcomer. How they were going to restructure the entire west wing with glitter for the concubines who requested kitty litter boxes made of sequins and fairy dust. The king being a generous man who never pees in the west wing anyway, agreed.
And once the meeting was all said and done and all the councillor kittens left for their midnight snack, King Zirk sat on the arm rest of the recliner Haman reclined in. Haman, in spite of his questionable character, was a friend of Zirk’s and even a king with a lot of responsibility can tell when his friend is troubled.
“What do you think of these plans?” asked King Zirk, “For the west wing and the fairy dust?”
“It’s fine,” said Haman.
“And our plan to distribute the food to the newcomers? What do you think of that?” asked the king.
“Sounds good,” said Haman.
“Is it though?” asked King Zirk, “You seem upset.”
“Not about the west wing or the food,” he said, “It’s — I’m concerned about a certain race of cats scattered across the empire of your kingdom, your Majesty. They observe customs and traditions that directly oppose you. They are not like any other cats we’ve met before. And not in a good way. They disobey your laws and I truly believe that tolerating them would violate your best interests.Your highness, I would like to suggest issuing a decree for their execution and demise. For a dead man cannot oppose you or continue to disrespect your life and law. If you agree to this, I would donate three hundred and seventy five cans of tuna and chicken liver into the royal treasury of your pantry for the administration to distribute as appropriate to your kingdom.”
“The people and their resources are yours,” declared King Zirk as he unclasped the charm on his collar with his name and address, “Use this as a signet on the decree.”
“Thank you,” said Haman, “I will not disappoint.”
And with that, Haman wrote the decree and sealed it with the king’s charm as a signet. He sent runners to all four corners of kingdom’s living room and had them declare the decree loud.
“ON THE 9TH OF MARCH, ALL THE MORTY’S OF THE WORLD SHALL DIE. DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU ARE MALE OR FEMALE, YOUNG OR OLD, ADULT OR CHILD, YOU SHALL DIE. PLEASE PREPARE ACCORDINGLY.”
While the message of terrorism was being sent across the land and living room, the king and Haman sat down in luxury chinking their glasses of milk (for King Zirk) and moscato (for Haman) while the entire castle was thrown into confusion and despair.