affame_le_geant_potential_lives fyn gula saumboo was pissed. he desperately wanted to chase after meeterskeeter, catch his sorry ass, and throw him off the highest tower of the castle, but there were more important matters to attend to, namely king mal's coffee, which if he was late with would cause him to end up as meeterskeeter's cell mate. so, he dug out his cell phone and called castle security. it rang a half ring and was answered. "c.s, this is squanto, how can i help you?" a voice said, business-like, raging with caffeine. "this is saumboo, king mal's p.a," saumboo said, checking his watch. he still had sufficient time before he had to rush to the kitchen. "i have a strange request." "go ahead," squanto replied. "i've probably heard it all and then some." "well, it's about meeterskeeter." "oh, the cat that sings like louie armstrong and wakes the king?" "yes, it's a long story but basically he's commmitted murder and is now a fugitive that must be captured immediately." "hold for animal control." "thanks," saumboo said, and the phone clicked to online music as he waited for the transfer. the song was from miranda lee richard's, 'the herethereafter,' a cd saumboo had desired to purchase, but he was too upset to enjoy it. he looked down at potentilla's dead body. he shook his head sadly. "each of us contain many lives, potential lives," saumboo thought to himself. " they are laid up inside us like so many shining metals, railway lines. riding along one set towards the terminus. we can be aware of those other lines, along side of us which we might have traveled if only we had the strength to change." abruptly the song was cut off. "a.c., this is prattonbrabbly," a voice said, sounding bored out of its skull. actually, unseen of course to saumboo, the receptionist had just swallowed the last bite of his eleventh krispy kreme doughnut. "yes, this is saumboo, king mal's p.a., i'm reporting a cat on the lam from a recent murder. he needs to be captured immediately." there was the sound of the receiver being dropped. paper scuffled, a chair squeaked, liquid dripped to the ground. moments later, the voice returned. "um, sir, we can't help you there, i'm going to have to forward you to special operations," prattonbrabbly said. again unseen to saumboo, he began wiping up the coffee he had spilled on himself and the table. "alright, please hurry," saumboo said, and he checked his watch again. he bent down and gently scooped up potentilla's lifeless body and cradled her with honour and reverence. then he made his way to the kitchen, cell phone pressed between shoulder and ear, a sigur ros song on the hold line. 011127 what's it to you? who go blather from