FFM19 2017 - The Time is Right to Make New Friends

    I knew him before he was famous. I’ve always wanted to be able to say that about somebody, and actually mean it – you know? Well it’s true. He lived just down the road from me when I was little; he’d come over to play almost every afternoon, and we got into all sorts of trouble together.

    What? Oh, no, he’s always been a cat – at least I’ve never known him as anything else, though I’ve heard all those theories. Sure I’ve got photos – but I ain’t going to show you them just like that now, am I? Those things are valuable. I’m saving them until the time – or the price – is right. Look; do you want to hear this story or not?

    Cheers. Well, like I said, he was just an ordinary cat. Balls licking, hairball coughing, lord and master of the street. Your typical arrogant moggy. We got on well enough though. Maybe because I was one of the few kids down the street who’d actually come out to play.

    And play we did. The Chinese takeaway next door’ back yard was our favourite hang-out. Empty crates and boxes, sacks, barrels; we made the best forts in the town. Or at least, I made them – but I couldn’t have done it without Pawlett’s supervision. I guess maybe he was special, even back then.

    We were right little monsters, really. I remember this one prank- What? Bad for publicity? Hey, kids have to have some fun- Fine.

    So anyway. It happened one sunny evening when the takeaway was really busy up front; they left the shed door ajar.

    Now it was Pawlett’s idea, let me make that clear from the start. He saw that crack, and slipped through inside quick as you can say ‘mouse’. Of course, I couldn’t just let my partner in crime go it alone.

    It was dark in the shed; but still, there was enough light to make out stacks and stacks of the same boxes we normally used. Pawlett stalked right past all of them though; he knew what he wanted. Right at the back, was a different box.

    Of course, we couldn’t read the label - but that didn’t stop Pawlett; he wanted that box.

    I’d never seen him so worked up. Mewling, scratching at the carboard – I knew if I didn’t do something, we’d be caught. So I did the first thing I could. I grabbed the box and we dashed back to our yard.

    I know! I might have been a bit wild as a kid – but I’d never stolen anything more than a couple of sweets before. It was Pawlett though. That was the day things changed, and I guess it affected me too.

    What was in the box, I bet you’re dying to know? Well… Fortune cookies. That’s it. Dozens of the things, all new in their plastic and foil wrappers.

    I’d barely opened the box, when Pawlett hopped right in. He tossed them about left and right as if he was hunting for something. Maybe he was. I scrabbled round frantically in our dusty out-house, trying to clear up before anybody found us. Pawlett didn’t care though. He hopped right back out of the box, with one packet dangling from his mouth like a dead mouse.

    That was when it happened. You know what I mean, don’t you? The first miracle. The words the whole world has speculated on for years since. Well now.

    Pawlett walked towards me in that swaying cat’s stride. I’d finally managed to chuck all the other cookies back in at least the rough direction of the box, and was kneeling by the door. There was no way I was letting him escape with that thing.

    But he didn’t try to get past. He dropped the packet, and nudged it closer. Then he sat back and stared straight into my eyes. Of course, I didn’t know what would happen. I probably tried to stroke him, or pick up the cookie or some such. I can’t remember. After all, who would remember with what happened next? You don’t meet a talking cat every day, I’m telling you!

    Pawlett spoke. “Keep your ears open. You never know what you might hear.”

    I dropped my jaw, shook my head, rubbed my eyes, my ears. He nudged the packet again, and in the exact same tone, repeated the words. No surprise I thought I’d finally cracked, right?

    I think he got a bit frustrated at that point; he picked up the fortune cookie packet and flung it at me. I flinched, and it flew past out the doorway. Pawlett ran off too – the jammy sod. Dad chose that moment to come out and check on me. Caught me red-handed, and I was grounded for a month.

    I never saw Pawlett again – until he showed up on the news. Maybe he knew dad was after him, and left the area. Either way, somehow he ended up at that pub where he was ‘discovered’ by the local football team, just fallen off the bottom of their league. “Your past success will be overshadowed by your future success,” he told them; those now famous words that heralded their impossible winning streak and became the club motto.

    The rest, as they say, is history. Here I am, an apprentice factory worker with barely two coppers to rub together when just think what I could have been if he’d stayed. They say celebrity changes a man. Well let me tell you, it certainly changes a cat. He never came back to my little yard after that day. Never acknowledged me – though I went to all his games I could afford to.

    And there he was, carried on plush cushions, spouting trite phrases and winning internet glory. Sickening.

    Now you can find Pawlett’s face on thousands of pounds of club merchandise, and his quotes fill book after book. And fortune cookie factories all over the world have closed down, facing copyright claims.