Jim woke one day. It was an ordinary day. It was not the kind of day that made you feel like a cat was going to maul your foot. Jim stepped out of bed, and his cat mauled his foot. "Bad cat!" scolded Jim. "Now I have to go to the doctor." Jim went to the doctor's office, which happened to be very far away, letting Jim discover just how hard it was to drive with only one foot. When he finally got there after only running into seven trees and one police car, the doctor welcomed him in, asking what brought him here. "Well," replied Jim, "my cat has recently mauled my foot." "Then we'd better fix it up," replied the doctor. The doctor told him to sit down so he could check his foot. "Oh dear," said the doctor. "What?" asked Jim. "You... you have..." "WHAT?" "Felinowerecatiness." "Felino-what?" asked Jim. "You are turning into a werecat". There was a long silence. "Is that a bad thing?" asked Jim. "Yes, you idiot, of course it's a bad thing!" yelled the doctor. âAnd itâs highly contagious! Get out! OUT!â And with that, Jim was kicked out of the doctorâs office. Jim drove home, this time only hitting three trees and two cars. When he arrived, a floating pumpkin was waiting for him. Jim didn't care about floating pumpkins, so he shoved it into a tree. He opened the door, and saw his cat waiting for him. "Hello, Jim," said the cat. Jim jumped back, afraid. "I am your cat. You probably already know that. Make me breakfast, and then we will discuss what will happen to you. And none of that cat food stuff. I want bacon." Jim made bacon for himself and the cat, then brought it back to the table. "Well, Jim," said the cat, "It appears you are a werecat." Jim nodded, scared. "Well then, you must prove yourself." Prove... myself?" "You must go on a quest. If you fail, you die. If you succeed... you live." "What kind of quest?" "You must find... THE SACRED BUNNY SLIPPER. Here is a sword, a magic frog, and some cheese. Now... begin your quest." And Jim was thrown out of his house, with no idea where to look, or even what to look for.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Please comment on this. I will probably write other chapters.
Here's another chapter. I hope more people read this one. CHAPTER TWO
Jim woke up in a cardboard box. It had been six days since his cat had sent him on a quest, and so far he had achieved nothing. And all heâd had to eat was a shoe. And the cheese that his cat had given him, but it had been mouldy and the shoe tasted better. He had also received a sword and a magic frog. Picking up the sword, he realised that it was shaped like a penguin. The head, pointing up, was at the top, with the body as the rest of it. He was about to examine the frog when a hobbit fell on him. âAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!â They both screamed. The short man jumped back and dusted himself off. âWho the heck are you?â asked Jim. âIâm Tom, the elf. Not the Tolkien-fantasy-myth elf. The short elves, which live at the North Pole. I was told there was a new werecat, so I was sent to find him,â he responded. âWell, Tom, youâre in luck. I am the werecat,â replied Jim. âReally? Whatâs your quest?â asked Tom. âTo find the Sacred Bunny Slipper.â Tom sucked in his breath. âWhoa⦠no one has had that quest for 122 years, 65 days, and 45 minutes. You must be really powerful.â âOh.â There was a pause. âWhy were you sent to find me?â âTo train you.â âOh. Good. I need training. What is it? You give me some swords and some magic words, and hocus-pocus and slash-zing and Iâm ready to kill some dragons?â âNo. First of all, the training is much more complex. Second of all, dragons are too awesome to kill, and third of all-â Tom was cut short when an ugly man with greenish skin and horns fell on a dumpster. He hastily stood up. âHey. Iâm Oorook Hi, the goblin. Have you seen Tom the elf and Jim the werecat?â âYeah. Weâre right here,â replied Jim. âOh. Good. I have orders to kill you. Itâs nothing personal, you see, but Master Sourom doesnât like werecats much, and seeing as youâre a werecat, he doesnât like you, and-â âOh shut up,â interrupted Tom, âand letâs fight.â Tom drew his blade, a Viking sword that was shorter than usual. The goblin drew his weapon, an odd axe with a club-like handle and a curved blade, attached to the handle by three metal rods. Authorâs note: For those of you who care, itâs a nzappa zap, a traditional African axe. Jim drew his penguin-sword, and it flashed green. A spark ran down the blade, and a beam of electricity shot out at the goblin. He blinked once, and then fell over, unconscious. Jim suddenly felt very tired, and he too fell over, and fainted.
