Write the story

[Peter Voice]

which Myrtle thought was a load of bullshit that some fairy fuckin' jester was using to justify the abuse of her cats. She dragged chance downstairs and demanded that he.....

[Busteroo]

strip down to his skivvies and perform that most magical of stunts, for which he is widely known, and for which only a few have seen and lived to tell about, that being the amazing......

[Cybele]

yoiking yodel catcall, which would entice her flying cats to return home posthaste. Pantless Chance, fearing Myrtle's surgically sharp sewing shears,

[Peter]

cut loose with such an ear piercing cat call scream, It was partly his cat call but mostly fear of joining the castrati choirs that caused him to hit such a high note that Myrtle..

[Peter Voice]

fell to her knees. Which was just as well because the bag burst and the cats flew out at head height. Skyler hit chance square in the face and digging in his claws hung on.
By this stage the crowd had grown to stupendous proportions and, as always happens on any new pitch, performers started coming out of the woodwork.
The first to arrive was......

[Butterfly Man]

the Butterfly Man ... Robert hobbled up to Evan and said “beat it blue butt, this is my spot now!” That being said he whirled around on his cane and kicked Chance in the nuts with his one good leg ... Chance’s screams were barely audible because Skylar’s belly fur acted as a kind of muffler ... just then, without warning Robert felt ...

[Peter Voice]

the gentle touch of Master Lee's hand on his shoulder.
"Now, now old man take it easy, this really calls for a younger, fitter performer" he said as he got his nunchuckas out of his bag.

As he started his routine, chance, now suffocating in cat fur staggered blindly across the stage only to....

[scot]

[Cybele]

smash his forehead into the artificially elongated limb of a sadfaced, fourty year old pantomime. Chance, rendered unconscious, was dragged away by a flock of catbirds. The miserable mime, carrying one cat under each arm, gently lowered Phil and Mortiz by their tails into Myrtle's waiting arms. Skylar, having detached himself from both Chance's face and his Catbird Cleanup Crewe, flew, limbs akimbo, to land on Myrtle's shoulder. The crowd cheered. Master Lee and Butterfly Man grinned and

[Butterfly Man]

and decided it was time to hat the crowd ... so while they collected money, the ten foot tall, forty year old, miserable, sad faced mime broke his silence for the first time ... he babbled about his need to take a break from other people’s incessant indifference, their slack jawed facile enthusiasm, the raw wounds of their contentment, his own greasepaint.

The disbelieving crowd stood motionless ... with mouths agape they took out their wallets and purses and pored the contents into Master Lee and Butterfly’s outstretched hands.

Robert & William couldn’t believe their good luck ... mountains of bills and change flowed into their hats ... a seemingly endless supply of filthy lucre.

On and on went the miserable, sad faced pantomime. While frantically waving his pristine fly swatter in the air, he spoke of the inequities of economy seating, his disgust of parents who eat their young via designer clothing, even his own head injuries.

Master Lee’s eyes grew so large he almost ceased to be Asian ... Butterfly Man lost what little control he had left of his bladder ... yet the crowd remained transfixed.

When their hats became too full, the two giddy performers emptied them into large yellow buckets that appeared next to an imaginary phone booth.

No on dared leave. The woeful, disconsolate stilt walker continued on ... expressing his mistrust of jingles, junk mail, fire jugglers and Japanese neo-tribalist didgeridoo players.

He spoke of his hatred of HTML scammers, fools who equated
wealth with intelligence, fundamentalists and other peoples acne.

As the crowd became completely fleeced of their booty, they began to remove watches, jewelry and even articles of their clothing. No one wanted to be the first to go and miss even a single word of pathetic wisdom that seemed to flow like molten honey from the mouth of this dismal, downcast clown.

He cursed women who giggled in groups, lone public accordion players and French policeman with attack dogs.

He exhorted amputee ballet companies, infomercials, and penis driven conversations between men.

He preached of women who love too much, traffic wardens who love too little, NZ TV multinationals and his own perverse emotional logic.

Finally, the gloomy, weepy mime finished up his grandiloquent oration with a soliloquy about rabies, leprosy and ennui.

Surround by semi-naked people, the distraught mime pointed his unsullied fly swatter at the joyfully convulsing Asian and jubilant, incontinent old man and as they lay there, starry-eyed, pathetically clutching the many buckets full of money, he gesticulated a final warning to all of the dangers of hideous ego inflating street performance flatulence ...

With that he ...

[ 04-16-2003: Message edited by: Butterfly Man ]</p>

[Peter Voice]

disappeared into a puff of indecipherable logic.

As the crowd watched in wonder, a man with big underwear, a wheel-barrow and no shoes entered the circle.

Every-one held their breath as ......

[ 04-16-2003: Message edited by: Peter Voice ]</p>

[Pyromancer]

... Myrtle spread her arms like the Messias, with the stressed look in her eyes of a man that knows things are about to go horribly wrong in and around his former home town. From each wrist, a cat was hanging with his nails in het wrists, the third cat had pinched his claws in her forehead.
When the crowd noticed Myrtle really had the sigmata that so many magicians had tried to mimick over the last two millinia, they all fell on their knees with blind adoration, except for...

[ 04-16-2003: Message edited by: Pyromancer ]</p>

[Cybele]

Evan, Rumple and the barefoot man with the wheelbarrow. Pulling a shovel out of his prop bag, Rumple helped Evan and Captain Underpants to

[Peter]

shovel up all the cat shit that was all over the area, when this was done they all proceeded to down way too many pints of Guiness. Oh God what a hangover

[ 04-16-2003: Message edited by: Peter ]</p>

[Lynneski]

the lot of them suffered the next morning, as they nursed matching Bloody Mary's over the newspaper's shocking array of photographic evidence of their crowd fleecing and subesequent debauchery. The worst shot was one of ...