The Case of the Missing Kitties

There were few certainties in the world that week,
But one thing was for sure,
Kitties all over town were going missing,
Turning up chewed, mangled, and more,

The first case was Fluffy,
A Persian ball of fur,
She lived with the Petersons,
For who she'll no longer purr.

Last seen alive,
Chasing a ball of yarn,
Her carcass was found by tramps,
In the shade of a palm,

Paws eaten away,
Features etched in fright,
Seventeen other kitties,
Met their end that night.

Word traveled fast,
And soon everybody knew,
About these terrible creatures,
That were hunting down mews.

All of town's children,
Worried they might be next,
Began traveling in two's,
With whistles round their necks.

What could these creatures be,
Causing such distress,
Eating all the kitties,
And making the yuckiest mess,

Nobody had a clue,
And as the days went by,
The killings continued,
And the killers were most sly,

Only one being was privy,
To the reason for all this death,
A muti monster named Desmond,
Who'd imbibed far too much meth,

At some stage in June,
In a pool full of cess,
Desmond had been scrounging,
For a treat within the mess.

He had searched for a while,
But nothing good came up,
Until he reached behind a tire,
'n found a piece on which to sup'.

It was a kitty that had died,
Three days before,
Impaled on a scissor,
Left upon the floor,

Carrion for Desmond,
Not his foremost choice,
But when the sinew met his palate,
His taste buds did rejoice,

Never before in his lives,
Had he tasted such beauty,
But we must keep in mind,
That meth is not registered muti,

From that day on and on,
He made it his primary mission,
To find and kill much kitties,
And experiment in the kitchen,

Big kitty cupcakes,
And small kitty fudges,
Thin kitty crumpets,
And fat kitty spludges.

Of all the recipes he tried,
The thing he liked the most,
Was kitty blood cola,
To wash down a roast (kitty of course),

On the other side of town,
Miss Yucki was so busy,
With all the things she loves,
Like pageants in the city,

She knew of the killings,
From headlines in the bins,
But details were quite vague,
And her focus at the time was skins.

If she had but an inkling,
Of Desmond's grand design,
She'd have paid much more heed,
Far sooner back in time,

A few weeks before,
Before the killings had bedeviled,
Desmond had taken his cravings,
To the ultimate of levels,

In his kinky blood lust,
He'd had a great idea,
To bottle much new cola,
And sell it to his peers,

There was a problem that he faced,
If the plan was to work,
It was an issue of numbers,
One that him did much irk,

It seemed the amount that he needed,
To cover all his costs,
Would take him far too long,
To collect and freeze and frost,

He'd need a little army,
Or at least a squadron full,
Of minions to do his bidding,
To kitties kitties kill,

Some muti's were required,
To summon up a team,
To hunt and kill the kitties,
Deprive them of more dreams,

He collected the ingredients,
Like meth and milk and gum,
And mixed the muti's in the kitchen,
While he Tiny Dancer hummed,

After ten hours they were ready,
The mixes that would make,
Everyone who drank them,
Orders from him take,

So at midnight on a Monday,
He left the world of matter,
Heading for the dreamland,
Where human's minds do scatter,

In the dreams of little girls,
He planted the wicked muti,
Making monsters of those who drank it,
Even the cutest little cutie,

With the nights work completed,
He returned to his court,
To wait for Thursday morning,
When his squadron would report,

You can figure out the rest,
With regard to the killings,
The team of little girls,
Were doing Desmond's bidding,

Every night they'd trawl the streets,
Looking for small feline's,
And hiding from the law,
By sticking to the tree lines,

They killed, skinned and drained,
The kitties that they trapped,
Delivering to Desmond,
The blood, ready wrapped,

All this stock he used,
In his production of the cola,
That would set him up for life,
And make all his hats be bowlers,

But as so often happens,
Like with junkies and King Kong,
He did not consider,
That something could go wrong,

On the 30th of November,
That something came to be,
As a unit of the killers,
Messed with dear Miss Yucki,

They'd been patrolling in an old,
Dangerous part of town,
When their leader called for still,
Her face a studied frown,

She signalled action stations,
For the second time that night,
There was movement from an alley,
Downwind to their right,

They crept a little closer,
Underneath a line of sills,
Then pounced like... well, like a kitty,
And went in for the kill,

Little did they know,
That this movement they had seen,
Was Miss Yucki stirring,
In the middle of a dream,

She'd been flying through the air,
Over shiny waters blue,
On her way to have a picnic,
With a tribe from Cambdeboo,

As she soared through the air,
About to dip low and skim,
She was woken from the dreamland,
By a little killer named Kim,

In an instant she was ready,
Awake, alert and new,
She sensed bad muti presence,
And her monsters sensed it too,

All about them she could smell,
The dark muti working,
The eyes were deep and vacant,
Somewhere their master was lurking,

Fending off the killers,
Was a no event it seems,
For it was kitties they were seeking,
Not little yucki teams,

Awake now and grumpy,
Her monsters made some mix,
That would get them to the bottom,
Of these kitty killing tricks,

By the morning they knew,
Part of what was up,
Someone just like them,
Had mixed some bad things up,

It was Desmond, of course, we know,
But they did not know that yet,
That night they would start,
On this mission they'd been sent,

So after catching up their naps,
In the shadow of a wall,
They readied all they needed,
To cause this renegade's fall,

That night they would go out,
And prepare for their mission:
It was the case of the missing kitties,
and Desmond's dark ambition.