Chapter Six

     “Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man **CLAP CLAP** who lives on Dreary Lane?”
As Don was singing and clapping to the cheery little tune, he noticed a startling black blur flying from where his face had just been.
“Why, oh why did my body give a jolt?”
He then saw the merry black cat from before unrole itself out of a ball.
    “Gooooooood, goooooooooooood, your Kitty Senses are progressing more and more rapidly than ever expected," the dark feline began.
    “Great Scott, what is the Kitty Sense?  You never told me what it was! I can’t fathom this anxiety. No truancy is worth this!”  Donald was growing a bit dreary.
    “Mmmhhm.  Much to learn you have.  Listen and listen well.  The Kitty Sense is a special power that allows you to essentially slow down time.  With it, speedy objects are no longer as fast as they otherwise are-"
    “I beg your pardon?”  young Don interjected.
    “Instead of a normal object being too fast so that you really have no time to slow down, with the Kitty Sense at your side, you give a young gentleman like yourself ample time to react.”
    “Goodness gracious.  That really is splendid!”  It was almost like 8:00 bedtime all over again.  Only Don’s mother wasn’t there, nor was she reading through a bedtime story.  Oh, how those were jolly times.
    “Which is why, young man, you must join me.  Join me in the act of training; let me jar your new senses into fruition.”   Donald’s wasn’t at all inclined to let something hurdle into the path that his current arrangements brought to the table.
    “SO WHAT ABOUT MY STUDIES!?” There’s a time for a gentleman to yell, and a time for him not to yell.  Now was not the time.
    “SO WHY ARE YOU YELLING!?”  There was no stop to Donald's face turning a shade of pink from embarrassment, but if he were about to sacrifice much of his kick-the-can time, well, then he might as well be a communist.
    “Shucks.  I’m just… in bit of a pickle.”
    “Oh, and by the way, here’s that milk I had bestowed upon you just the other day.”  Don nonchalantly clawed the bottle of milk and drank until his pleasure was a bit full with satiation.
    “DEAR MEEEEEEE, this milk really is the cat’s meow!  Shucks, I’m with ya, 90%!” If Don had been a gambling man, then he would be all in.
    “Raahaaheeheeehooohoo.”  If the cat was really laughing, then Don knew it really was the cat’s meow.  “Let us start chapter one of this book of training!”

Author's Note

Comments on repetition are against what the novel is establishing