GIACOMO BRIMMED WITH excitement as the days of the festive season rushed toward Christoph Day. Caught up in the celebratory atmosphere, he spent almost every evening in the cafés and taverns around the mialla, frequenting The Mousetrap Inn most of all. He was generous with his money, buying drinks for anyone who cared to join him at the bar and engage in conversation, and quickly became the cat of the moment.
“Here’s our pal!” the patrons said when he walked in, and rubbed cheeks and intertwined their tails with his. Gorman Dyse even went so far as to proclaim him his number one customer, despite his former acquaintanceship with Gadget Garry, and his voice would boom across the saloon, “What’ll it be, the usual?” while he rushed to pour Giacomo a bowl of his favorite cat-ale, Milk & Honey.
Giacomo found the attention rather flattering, but it also left him with quite a nasty hangover. He was unable to pay the invoice statement from Woodhouse Pty Ltd that arrived completely out of the blue. So he did what Jordi and Gorman Dyse advised. He ignored it. Furthermore, it was becoming increasingly difficult to meet the rental on his room, and just three days before Christoph Day his boss called him into his upstairs office.
“This is the second week in a row you’ve missed your rent,” Jordi said from behind his desk. He closed the ledger book and slotted a writing gadget behind his ear. “Not paying your retail bills is one thing, but falling behind on your rent is another thing all together. Is there something you want to tell me?”
Giacomo swished his tail and flicked his ears, rather embarrassed with himself. “I’ve… uh… been a bit carried away with the celebrations,” he said. “I was going to use the profits I’ll make on Christoph Day to pay you.”
Jordi seemed happy with the answer. “All right. As it’s the festive season I’ll give you until next week, against my better judgment. But you’ll have to pay a five percent surcharge for being late. Accounting costs, you know how it is,” and he wisely quoted Christoph Purron from the Ideals of the Gadget Economy; “Never let an opportunity to charge extra slip by.”
Later that day the twins arrived at the shop. Giacomo was behind the counter in his apron sweeping the floor. He already knew Hildegard and Mildred by reputation, or Hilly and Milly as Jordi called them, but couldn’t as yet tell who was who. They stood at the door in identical yellow coats, eyeing the shop down their noses. “You!” said Hilly or Milly, dumping her suitcases. She, like her sister, was so fat her head sat on her shoulders like someone without a neck, a rather rotund figure of 8. “Are you the new help?”
Giacomo nodded, and was ordered to hurry with the luggage to their bedroom. The twins brushed past, their fat heads held high, not even bothering to carry a single bag. Giacomo quickly discounted taking everything at once; each bag weighed a ton, presumably crammed with all the gadgets and things they needed at boarding school. He staggered behind the twins up to the spare bedroom with a suitcase on his back, his legs wobbling under the weight, almost falling backwards once or twice, and unloaded it onto the closer of the two beds.
“Not there!” said Hilly or Milly.
“On the floor!” said Milly or Hilly, pointing to a vacant corner near the window, and told him to bring up the other ones and unpack them at once; they wished to change into their evening gowns.
They left to greet their parents, but just as Hilly or Milly stepped out of the room, her sister accidentally trod on her tail. Hilly or Milly screamed in pain and told her sister to watch where she walked. Several seconds later, Giacomo heard another scream. Then again a moment later, or was it the other sister, Milly or Hilly? It seemed they couldn’t walk five paces without one of them treading on the other’s tail.
Giacomo went to collect another suitcase, and as he passed Jordi’s office he heard the twins demanding their father do something about the lack of clothes and gadgets they had. Apparently all the other kattinas at Christoph Purron Gadget School for Femme-Cats had more dresses and coats and gadgets than them. That wasn’t all. Not only did they have less, they had to live with the shame that everything they had was last season’s fashion. By the time Giacomo carried the last suitcase up the stairs, the twins were still complaining how miserable they were at school. Life as a Milktooth was just so embarrassing.
Minutes later, as Giacomo unpacked, he heard Milly or Hilly scream “MEE-OW!” just outside the door, then shout at her sister to back off. They entered the bedroom scowling, Jordi close behind wringing his paws and nodding nervously, like Giacomo had seen him once or twice when profits had failed to meet market expectations for the last financial quarter.
“Now, my little angels,” Jordi said, eyes wide and unblinking. “What more can your father do for you?”
“I want purple blankets,” said Hilly or Milly, pointing to the bed and pouting.
“I want green blankets,” said Milly or Hilly, pouting even more.
“Ne, purple!”
“Ne, green!”
Jordi stared from one to the other, grinning like a mad cat from Katatonia, desperate to please them both, failing to please even one. Giacomo tried to excuse himself but Hilly and Milly cornered him like a mouse near and insisted he finished unpacking, watching over him until the last coat was hung in the closet. “Careful! That’s an Alexander McCatt! It’s worth more than you!” said Hilly or Milly.
Milly or Hilly then wanted a bath to be run, but the other sister wanted it first. He finished the chore without complaint, then left them squabbling and stepping on each other’s tails before they could order him to do something else, hurrying to The Mousetrap Inn for a much needed bowl of Milk & Honey. To his surprise, Jordi was already there, sitting in the corner by himself, wringing his paws and grinning stupidly at a copy of the Evening Mews.
Giacomo left him alone, kind of sorry for the poor guy. The twins had come at a bad time; the share price for Jordi Milktooth Enterprises had sagged over three percent today on news that funding for the proposed expansion had hit a stumbling block, a fall of over ten percent on the week.
It was just too depressing to think about.