At the office, I sat at my desk while the Kontinental Kat read the reviews from last night’s performance.
“The ‘Merry Felines of Cheshire’ is one of my favourite Tibbspearean plays but this opening night performance was the most unexpected display I’ve ever encountered. The stars, Catte Davis and Sir Rocky Hudson, outdid themselves in the starring roles and the new, hot starlet, Savoy Graydon, lived up to the hype that is making the rounds about her. She is a rare talent with a bright future. Her supporting role performance was exquisite. (Watch out, Ms. Davis, your protege may usurp the original). The play concluded in a most unique way and I have to meow that the night belonged to a relative unknown, by the name of Dash Tibbs. (Yes, he’s a distant relation of the playwright). You do not want to forget this cator’s name or face. His comedic portrayal of the buck-toothed rabbit brought the house down. Literally. Whether he meant for the play to turn into more of a hilarious farce than usual, the outcome could not have been more spectacular. ‘The Merry Felines of Cheshire’ is, indeed, a comedy but I honestly do not remember it being half as amusing as to leave both the audience and cast rolling in the aisles.” The Kontinental Kat placed the newspaper on the desk. “You’ve, certainly, knocked the Banana Heist headline off the front page, my dear boy.”
I hung my head in shame. This was the worst day ever. I could not think of anything worse that could happen to me. How was I going to live this down? I had made a mockery of the play and now my Savoy would never go out with a disgrace like me.
As if on cue, Savoy entered the office, laughing uncontrollably. (I should know, I was getting used to that sound). Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone. And who was with her, you might ask? The one feline I did not want her cavorting with . . . Myer Michaels. Both of them, practically, fell over each other with laughter.
“Did you see him scrambling to pick up those tee . . .” Mr. Michaels howled.
I, just, knew they were chortling at my expense! I ran from the office.
*********
I went back to the theatre. The place of my public humiliation. I wanted to talk to Rosie, the props manager, to find out what had happened. He was the cause of my mortification, after all.
I looked high and low . . . in the rafters and under the stage. No one had seen the bunny. Then I saw it . . . A trail of banana bits. I followed.
Now, you might find the next part a tiny bit macabre but remember I was chagrined and because of the stress I had endured, I lost my appetite. My hunger took over, so I ate the bits of the split banana until coming to the end, at the door to the wardrobe department.
I knocked and entered, only to find Patches, the wardrobe mistress, vaping the nip, and Rosie, the props manager, shoving the last bit of banana into his mouth.
“What is going on here?” I demanded.
Patches placed the vape pipe on the table in front of her. “What do you mean? We work here.”
“There are a lot of bananas out there.” I told them. I was happy to have found Rosie, though.
“There are more bananas, in this theatre, than there were at the Glorious and Free Art Gallery, the other night.” Rosie observed. “Although, your teeth seem to be working okay.” He drew attention to my consumption of the yellow fruit.
“How do you know how many bananas were at the art gallery?” I menaced. What kind of nefarious mischief were these two up to? I wanted some answers. My detecting skills kicked in and I began an interrogation, “Rosie, what do you intend to do about my teeth? I don’t want another mishap like last night.” I got right to the crux of the problem.
Rosie leapt into the air, while his tiny body contorted sideways. He honked and Binky-ed about while flicking his feet, to and fro. Was this some sort of fit, he was having? He ran out of the wardrobe department before answering any of my questions. I gave Patches an incredulous look. She merely switched from her vape pipe to a much bigger and more potent nip hookah.
*********
Now, tonight’s performance had all the earmarks of a better offering. You see, as I stood in the wings, waiting for the curtain to go up, Rosie managed to find the new set of prop buck teeth for me to wear. Admittedly, the bunny was a bit hungover from his earlier banana sugar high.
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked in concern.
“Yes.” He answered, a bit spacey.
“These won’t slip out of my mouth again, will they?” I was worried.
“I’ll use the new adhesive. We’ll see if this one works any better than the last one?” Rosie grabbed the glue and lathered the teeth in it.
“It was a bit weird that you went . . . ‘bananas’ . . . when I mentioned the art heist.” I observed. Was he exhibiting a guilty conscience?
“Was it?” Rosie looked around the backstage area.
I followed his gaze and spotted Savoy quite near us. She blew me a kiss as Rosie shoved the buck teeth into my mouth.
The curtain went up and the play began.
*********
Well, this performance went much better. There were no mishaps, no one broke character and the duel between Sir Rocky and myself ended in the most satisfying manner. I could not be more proud of this effort. The newspapers would be full of how well I performed. I might even get a Governor General’s Performing Arts Award’s nomination or two?
Then the unbelievable happened . . .
Backstage, after our numerous curtain calls, (yes . . . even I got one), Savoy sought me out and leaned in meowing, “That was a fine bit of catting. Can I give you a kiss?” And she meant it too, because she motioned for me to remove the prop teeth, in order to plant one on me! Right on the kisser! I’m no fool! This was exactly what I’d been waiting my whole life for.
I pulled on the teeth!
Nothing happened.
I got a better grip and pulled harder!
Nothing happened.
WTFLOOF?!!!!
*********
The Kontinental Kat showed up backstage as I was being led off to the emergency vet dentist. I was told later that they interrogated the bunny until he confessed.
“Yes, I sabotaged the buck teeth. I put a dab or two of Crazy Gorilla glue on the teeth so they would not fly out of his mouth and in fact, the teeth would never leave.” Rosie threw his head back and cackled.
Savoy asked, “Why would you do that?”
“Dash was getting too close to the truth about my banana consumption. I can’t help it. I’m addicted.” Rosie confessed.
“So, you’re the thief who pulled off the Great Banana Split, from the Glorious and Free Art Gallery?” Savoy had figured it out.
“I had to do it.” Rosie let slip. He recovered quickly with, “I love bananas!”
*********
I entered the office with my bandaged ear and now my jaw was bound up, as well. The vet recommended that the teeth be ground down which left me with a very sore face. The bandage was purely for protection against infection.
“You look like you’ve been in a war.” Chief Inspector Magic took in my features.
I sat at the desk and admitted, “This job is becoming a health hazard.”
Savoy left the side of Myer Michaels and placed her arm around my shoulder, “We’ve done good work, this week.” She licked the top of my head.
“You all have . . .” Chief Inspector Magic agreed. “If it hadn’t been for all of you, the police would never have gotten to the bottom of the ‘Banana Split’ theft. We owe the Kontinental Kat Agency a vote of thanks, once again.” Magic sounded bitter.
“Who did it?” I asked.
“Rosie, the props manager.” Savoy answered.
“Rosie? Are you sure? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I observed.
“He confessed.” The Kontinental Kat told me.
“Why would he steal the art work?” I inquired.
“And, more importantly, where is it?” Savoy added.
“His banana obsession was becoming increasingly obvious to everyone and he wanted to see his name in the papers again.” The Kontinental Kat surmised as to the rabbit’s motive.
“We haven’t found the stolen goods yet.” Chief Inspector Magic answered Savoy’s question. “He claims that the bananas from the exhibit are gone forever.”
“You mean someone ate them?” Savoy met my eye. I remembered the trail of banana leading to the wardrobe department and blanched.
“He claims that it wasn’t him. But he may have had an accomplice.” Chief Inspector Magic informed us.
“Surely, someone else couldn’t be involved?” I began to panic. I couldn’t go to jail. Not now, not when Savoy was, finally, warming up to me. “I don’t see Rosie as a mastermind Art thief.”
Everyone in the room looked around at each other. I could tell that they were questioning the conclusion they had come to. I, sooo . . . wanted to throw suspicion on Mr. Michaels.
“Who else would have a motive?” Chief Inspector Magic asked.
“Maybe the artist? He got a lot of publicity out of this.” Savoy suggested.
“Or the money people behind the artist?” I was sure Mr. Michaels would be the kind of wealthy cat, to support the arts.
“Why don’t we ask him?” The Kontinental Kat meowed up.
This confused most of us in the room. It, certainly, did as far as I was concerned.
Myer Michaels stepped forward and said, “Okay . . . Okay . . . It’s me!”
“I knew it! Arrest him, Chief Inspector!” This caper was coming to the exact conclusion I had hoped for. Oh glory be . . . Myer Michaels was going to jail.
“He can’t arrest me for being an artist.” Myer Michaels held up his paws. “I had nothing to do with the theft. But I am the artist who has benefited from all this.”
“You’re Foodsy?” Savoy asked, with a meow full of admiration.
“I am.” He confessed. “And now that Rosie has admitted to the theft and the case has been solved, I’ve decided to branch out with my art. The next show will be titled, ‘Tibbspearean Teeth’.” Mr. Michaels flipped over a covering on the desk in front of me.
The End
*If my work has made you laugh, momentarily allowed you to forget the state of the world, or snort tea onto a nearby surface, feel free to tip or donate. Supporting writers and comedy is a noble act — like feeding a stray, except with fewer fleas and more encouragement. Every contribution is greatly appreciated and helps keep the words, wit, and nonsense flowing. And it may just indirectly fund future silliness. I thank you in advance. 😻 . . . https://thejoyofcats.wordpress.com/1896-2/
Copyright ©️ 2026 By Judith Wiberg
