The Floating Gulag, Part 2Jim Williams
by Rocky the Diabolical Cat™ It was night when I regained consciousness. I was manacled again on the deck of the ship, and every molecule of my feline body ached from being tortured.
I gazed upward. The moon looked like a pearl in the sky.
The night sentry, a muscle-bound white kid, strummed a guitar and sang, "I bin killin' and torturin' Iraqians / but on my head dey ain't no bounty / I's a war criminal, it is true / but I's just missin' Hamilton County / I got dem missin' Carmel blues."
The moon seemed to cringe in response.
Suddenly, I saw a tiny hook on the end of a thin rope rise above the edge of the ship, gently fall and attach itself to the vessel's side. In the time it took me to blink in disbelief, my Feline Front comrades - Ikey, Blackie, Tux, Sprite and Brooklyn Ivan - had appeared on the ship's deck. Ikey unlocked my manacles with a single claw while his helpers stood guard. The other four picked me up and hustled me off the ship and into their waiting rowboat while Ikey smashed the guitar on the idiotic night sentry's head.
After travelling all night in the rowboat, we were met by a powerboat piloted by Sergio, an associate of my late friend Diavolo. He hustled us to Lido di Noto on the Italian coast, whence we were taken by private car to Rome.
In Rome I said goodbye to the other members of the Feline Front, slipped into my Fifi the Calico disguise and flew back to the United States, where I am now recuperating.
I would like to thank Ikey, Blackie, Tux and Sprite for rescuing me from the junta's vile clutches, and to the junta I have a message: Cat power shall avenge my kidnapping and torture.