was a stage name
she stole from the gypsies,
although that was of little consequence
to the bald wonder. He had hired the band after all.
She rolled onto her Persian back, stretched, and clawed at the air.
Annoyed at herself.
Pooping in the Prince’s flowerpot
was on a dare and to be caught in the act, disgraceful.
She was malnourished, and her fur needed brushing.
She needed spa time.
Katya needed time to plan,
Time to refuel and recover.
Three months minimum.
Tiki would have to stay out of sight.
She would call on him later.
And this so-called Prince knew how to live.
It was purrfect. He’d taken little notice of the
fat cats and the environmentalists.
He did have a soft spot for gypsies, though.
In a short time, Katya had become acquainted with the privy.
Waste management, currently
Wasn’t just a pipe dream,
It was reality.
Although the castle was still drafty.
Katya wailed and hissed.
She would make him think it was his idea,
He would fall hard.
Before long, she would reign over all of them and
Their royal waste would be collected
and sold to the serfs as fertilizer.
And with a minor in chemistry, anything was possible
Hinting at what the M. in her name stood for.
After all, a cat had to keep some secrets.
Katya not only had nine lives; Katya had skills.
Corney Press 