Spencer's Final Fan-fiction

CARTOON: Tom and Jerry

  Lounging flat on the front porch, in the warm Sunday sun, the shabby house cat named Tom didn't think today was much different from any other. His trusting old-lady owner was on a trip into town for the day and had entrusted Tom with the duty of guarding the home while she was gone. Tom realised this was a big responsibility and undoubtedly believed he had it covered. So, with a wide smile slapped across his dopey face, he proceeded to drift off to sleep.

   But unknowing to Tom, his long time foe and resident nemesis Jerry, was plotting something that he hoped might just get ride of the pesky household cat once and for all...

   Jerry had always been good at coming up with ideas to outwit and outsmart Tom. Weather sneaking into the house regularly to steal cat biscuits, or enjoying a spot on the couch while the unsuspecting others are watching TV, or even bringing his mouse friends around for a bit of fun, but this time Jerry wanted the whole house to himself and had just the plan while they were both home alone.

   In the past, when Tom had been out getting into mischief within the neighbourhood, he had occasionally been returned home, against his will, by a man in a van. On the side of this van it read 'ANIMAL CONTROL' but until recently, Jerry was unaware of what this actually meant. Luckily, word spreads around in the house-mouse community and when similar incidences where beginning to happen around the neighbourhood, Jerry and has pint-sized pals had begun to piece together what they thought 'Animal Control' actually meant...Cat Jail. Unfortunately Jerry still thought this 'mystery man' in the animal control van was acting at his own accord and didn't really get the connection between him an Tom. Until coincidentally, the day before, when Jerry had accidentally been witness to something that caused a light bulb to flash above that flappy-eared head of his.

   As Jerry was on his usual evening kitchen raid, where he could be found scurrying around his crafty, predetermined mouse route, in and out of floors, walls, furniture and carpet, the old-lady house owner and Tom were curled up together on the big old fashioned couch, in front of the small tubed television blaring away at an extraordinary volume - possibly because of the old lady's lack of hearing that had contributed to Jerry's freedom around the house in the first place. While the others where mesmerised by this small flashing screen, watching infomercials and advertising, Jerry snuck past the couch and was almost at the doorway to the kitchen when he looked back and happened to catch a glimpse of that mystery man with the animal control van on the T.V.

   "...That's right folks. If your sick of cleaning up your own trash on the driveway left by these pesky feline, or shooing them away from your lovely vegetable garden out back, or even being surprised by their disgusting smelly presents left behind on your lawn, then you need to give me a call. Darryl's the name, and down here at Animal Control, we have your best interests at heart. Don't be annoyed by stray cats any longer. Give us a call on 555-NO-MORE-FURBALLS"

   The idea hit Jerry like a wooden mallet to the noggin. And Jerry was so excited that, forgetting he was out in the open, let out a small squeak. That was enough to prick Tom's ears up and within the blink of an eye, was galloping toward Jerry with a killer grin across his face. Jerry shrieked and shot off back toward his closest hole in the wall. Unable to gain traction on the shiny wooden floor, Tom saw that Jerry had disappeared into a small arch entrance way and tried his hardest to slow down or change direction but it was inevitable, and Tom slammed face first into the hallway wall, back legs stuck stiff in the air and the familiar Warner Bros. brass melody of failure in the background...Whomp whomp whomp whaaaaaaaaaaaw.

   Now, as Tom was drifting off to sleep on the porch and the old-lady house owner was away for the afternoon, Jerry thought this was the best time to initiate 'The Plan'

   Jerry had never used the telephone before, but was confident he could work it out as he had seen the old-lady house owner do it countless times. Just lift the receiver off the hook, and dial in that number he had remembered from the night before, that should be easy enough. So, making sure the coast was clear, Jerry snuck out of his hole in the hallway and with his back against the wall, slide down the hall and around into the living room. There, up on the small side table was the phone. Jerry looked around again, then rushed over, up the table leg, then hoped onto the phone cord and pulled himself the rest of the way up. He was there. First things first, lift the receiver off the hook. But the receiver was twice the size of Jerry. Jerry pulled and shoved and pushed and kicked until finally the receiver had slid up and flopped onto the table top, but with a bit of a thud. Jerry pricked up his ears. Had Tom heard that? but nothing happened, and Jerry cautiously went on to the next task of dialling the number. He began...5...5...5...just then something caught Jerry in the corner of his eye. He looked up, and to his horror, he was staring directly into the large, sharp, salivating, mouth of a hungry cat.