Page 46 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
Mine needs to be larger,Fish mewls.And more majestic. Possibly covered in rhinestones and LED accents.
Mine is cuter,Chip beams.More cuddly. More snack-adjacent. I radiate popcorn energy.
No lies detected.
I suppose they’re somewhat presentable,Fish concedes with reluctance.Though my frown should be more pronounced. And twice as large. For an accurate scale.
If we’re going for accuracy, hers would be twice as small. She’s cute and petite and she knows it. It’s her ego that’s big.
Mine has a happier expression,Chip notes smugly.More marketable. More approachable. More likely to sell salt-laden snacks to unsuspecting hoomans.
Your expression says I might have accidentally ingested a minivan, while mine conveys dignified authority.Fish sniffs.I’m clearly the superior merchandising choice.
“Both designs test equally well with focus groups,” I lie smoothly. The focus group was me at 3 A.M., bleary-eyed and caffeinated beyond medical recommendations.
Then I unleash the pièce de résistance—glittery cat-ear headbands. Sparkly. Striped. Jingly.
Fish recoils.What fresh humiliation is this?!Fish yowls as I slip a black and white glittery pair onto my head.Have you no shame?!
IT’S GENIUS,Chip yells.Mandatory headwear for entering the kingdom! ALL SHALL WEAR EARS!
“It’s fashion,” I tell them. “It’s branding. It’s...paying off our haunted mine ride repair bill,”I say, slipping another headband on, orange ears this time, and check my reflection in a nearby window. The effect is surprisingly cute, even with the dark circles under my eyes and hair that’s seen better decades. “And it’s how we’re going to pay for those safety upgrades and anti-flashing mechanisms for the pirate ride. Those wenches need clothes. Lots of them.” Maybe a few bras, too.
A family walking past spots my ears and immediately veers in our direction like moths to a flame, the youngest child pointing excitedly and probably planning to add cat ears to his Christmas list. And then, just like that, I’m mobbed.
“Are those the new cat ears? For the mascots? We saw them online!” The mother beams, already opening her purse with the enthusiasm of a woman who’s found exactly what she didn’t know she needed. “Liam has been talking about nothing else but these cats since he saw that video of them on Rickety Tok.”
I blink, processing this information like a computer trying to download too much data at once. Rickety Tok? Before I can fully comprehend the implications of my cats’ apparently exploding social media presence—and whether I should be proud or terrified—I’ve sold four pairs of ears and two popcorn buckets.
I told you.Chip preens as the family walks away, all sporting cat ears.We’re trendsetters. Influencers. Purveyors of fine feline fashion.Prepare for a lifestyle brand.
At least the glitter complements my bone structure,Fish mutters.
By noon, the gift shop looks like the result of a glitter storm colliding with capitalism. I’m mid-mug-arrangement when the Merryweathers arrive, dressed like they just escaped from the Easter section of Liberace’s closet—lavender rhinestone pantsuits, matching pearls, and smiles that could light up the Haunted Mine Ride.
“Josie, my dear!” Edie beams. “What’s all this delightful hullabaloo?”
“Popcorn-powered progress,” I say, bracing for budget judgment.
Instead, Eddie claps me on the back so hard I nearly face-plant intothe Chip mugs.
“Marvelous!” he says. “People spending money is always a wonderful thing!”
“And the ears are darling,” Edie says, donning a glittery pair. “I haven’t seen the park this full since the bingo bus got lost in ’98.”
I blink. “So you’re not mad?”
“We gave you control.” Eddie shrugs. “If cat merch works, we say run with it. Maybe gallop.”
Edie leans in. “Speaking of galloping, the Great Gourd Gala Parade is Sunday. It’s the biggest event of our fall season. Feel free to spice it up. Maybe rename it. A gourd isn’t exactly a sexy vegetable.”
“Says you,” Eddie adds with a demented chuckle.
I do not want to know.
“Feel free to change the name,” Edie continues. “I always thought it was a bit of a mouthful myself.”
“Change anything you like!” Eddie enthuses. “The uniforms, the parade, the whole works! Build a cat-themed roller coaster if you want! We’ve seen more life in this park in the past day than we have in years, all thanks to you and these marvelous felines.”
