Frank; the time travelling cat

He's a cat. He time travels. Ok so far?

   It was a rather dull Tuesday morning. Philip was watching football on TV. His team was losing. This was a bad thing; any time his team lost, a torrent of foul language and an excessive amount of sulking would follow. 

   Frank really couldn't be bother with it again. He sauntered into the kitchen, laughed at his food bowl and sat. What could he do? 

   Annoy the neighbours dog? He did like doing that. It was easy and much fun. However, he'd done this twice in the last fortnight. 

He needed a challenge. He needed something other than time travel, which he was becoming heavily reliant upon for entertainment. 

Sod it, he thought. Off to the cat flap he went. 

His head woodshed. The lights flashed and then...and then he was standing on cobbled streets. The smell of horse pooh filled his feline nostrils. People dressed in nothing more than bed sheets busied this way and that. Stalls selling all kinds of goods lived the street. 

Frank passed a vendor selling fish. He helped himself to a nice but of bream. The owner then proceeded to chase him down the street. Idiot. 

Frank soon lost him and finished the fish. Needed salt, he mused. 

At the top of the street stood an enormous stadium. A stone giant. It was colossus thought Frank. He decided to have a look. 

He wandered past the crowds of bed sheet wearing folk and entered the stadium. Must've been an important match thought Frank, as the crowds were huge. 

He carried on for a while. People tried to shoe him away but Frank being Frank, he was having none of it. 

He eventually climbed done stairs and could make out the roar if the crowd; it was deafening. 

To his left was a table with red cloth draped over it. He decided to jump upon it. 

He looked over to a man sat in a rather comfy looking chair. Upon his head was a wreath of golden leaves. He knew who this was. 

The man was tucking into what looked like a salad. He stopped mid-chew. 

"Be gone, wretched animal of the street. Be gone." The man cried. 

His features were statuesque and Frank noticed his rather Ronan nose. 

"See what your 'eating," asked Frank.

The man was horrified. A talking cat? At lunch. 

"This cat. It has spoken words of ill" he looked very worried. "Have I taken with fever? Who else here can hear this chatter?"

A man, dressed like a soldier with a Mohican headdress nodded. 

Frank smiled. "In many many years, after your death and the fall of the Ronan empire, you will have two things named after you?"

The man grinned. "Prey tell. What might they be? A city? A Great Lake?"

Frank laughed. "You're kiddin' ain't ya?" The man frowned. " you will share your name with a salad, and a dog food."

The man nearly choked on his salad. 

"Oh," started Frank. "Beware the ides if March. 

The man shook his head. 

Frank rolled his eyes and leapt from the table. 

The End

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