How The Owl And Pussycat REALLY Went To Sea In A Beautiful Pea Green Boat
It really happened this way and the tale must be told because what has been seen cannot be unseen.
They were the last owl and the last pussycat.
The very last.
They lived on an island west of here – a single smooth hill with no nooks or crannies for a small thing to hide.
Until a week ago, the hill-island had been populated entirely by owls, pussycats and pterodactyls.
It was a crappy ecosystem though and nature took its course.
“Let us escape together while we still can,” said the pussycat, eyeing the owl hungrily – because cat, because bird.
“Er, only if you wear a bell,” said the wise owl. “At all times, mind.”
“Mmm,” said the pussycat, evading the last bit. “Okay, the good news is there is a nearby island filled with bears.”
“How is this good news?” said the owl.
“They use honey as currency, OBVIOUSLY,” said the cat. “Because they are bears and very predictable. Remember how a conveniently recent hill-island shipwreck fortuitously left us with an absolute shitload of crates of honey?”
“I am aware of this incident,” said the owl.
“We will go to this place which is obviously called Bear Island with our crates of dead man’s honey,” said the cat smugly. “We will be RICH.”
The owl did not like this plan. “Bear Island sounds like an unhappy place. The bears who live there can be rich or full, but not both.”
“Whatever,” said the cat. “We are refugees and we will have to take what we can get. We’ll buy our way in and convince the Bear King that owls and pussycats are far more precious than honey. We will be the new currency within a week. They will never fold us or tear us or eat us. Bears are SUPER totally wilfully ignorant, actually. Embarrassing, really. Anyway they’ll fall for it.”
“Can I suggest,” said the owl hesitantly, “Can I just suggest… that we also take some of the money from the shipwreck just in case your plan is in any way flawed. Also, did I mention the need for your wearing a bell?”
“Oh, go on then,” said the cat. “About the money, I mean.” It made no mention of the bell.
In the dead of night,the owl and the pussycat built a raft as the pterodactyls slept. They built the raft from the ribcage of a perished pterodactyl. Literally everyone knows that pterodactyl bones are pea-green. That is what the ‘p’ stands for.
They set off at dawn and got lost and had to survive on flying fish clawed from the surface of the sea. The owl spent far too much time noodling on its acoustic guitar playing “Wonderwall” over and over again, and THAT WAS A PROBLEM. Also, because this is a story, instead of a mysterious case of guitar-related ‘owl overboard’ what actually happened is the deeply mutually unsuitable owl and pussycat fell in love.
And then the cat was pretty glad it had folded on the matter of bringing the cash… because a conservative approach to true love meant they needed to go see a little Piggy-wig and buy a wedding ring.
The pussycat and owl had totally forgotten about Bear Island, which was only three days’ sail from hill-island. You know what the problem was? Wonderwall. It confused them. They spent a year and a day getting to a land where the Bong-Tree grows just because they heard a Piggy-wig was selling wedding rings there. It wouldn’t have happened if Noel Gallagher had kept his noodlings to himself.
They passed loads of nice islands on the way. Islands full of cats and owls and fish and mice all co-existing really well, for example.
The owl and the pussycat didn’t even notice, because endless renditions of Wonderwall.
Wonderwall had made them totally confused about everything.
A bunch of other stuff happened, famous stuff about about spoons and lunar leaps and spoons of a runcible nature.
But it was no good.
Endless acoustic repetitions of a single Oasis track had ruined everything.
The owl and the pussycat were never the same after that.
We should feel sorry for them.