scene thirty - fight - year eight

When they imagined a fight, they never, ever, in their life, imagined this. It was a beautiful, chaotic showdown, between adult and adult… cat. Miss Denn, with her little black high heels, a beige skirt so long you couldn’t see her ankles and a black top at least one size too tight but without anything to define, circling their group’s symbol of freedom: their regular visitor, the illustrious yet illusive Kiss. Perhaps it was a little unfair, since Kiss had nothing but his claws, teeth and whiskers, yet she held in her hands a stack of books, all perfect weapons if in the right hands.