Part 2 of ‘The Cat That Reversed Time’ a developing novel by Simon French, To be continued… (Available for the Kindle and ipad)

It was the day after the night before the day that had preceded it, and the room had the atmosphere of a hopeless conversation. Arthur and Peralopolies sat and watched, as the cat continued to invert itself.

The first sign of the inversion had started the minute Mrs Slefton had closed the door. Arthur conjectured that this had been the spark, and Peralopolies concurred, all the while swinging his collection of prize conkers.

Arthur had been the first to comment that something seemed to be up with the cat.  Peralopolies refused to believe it could happen again, but having examined the cat with his hands, he climbed the perception mountain, leapt across the crevasse of understanding, scaled the shear face of knowledge, crawled up to the summit of truth, then abseiled back down to the base camp of agreeance; where he had initially set out from.

Smack My Bitch up! Smack My Bitch Up! Smack My Bitch Up! Smack My Bitch Up! As they sat watching the continued self-invertion of the cat, the small wall-mounted DAB radio played a tune that neither Arthur, nor Perapolies recognised. Smack My Bitch up! Smack My Bitch Up! Smack My Bitch up! Smack My Bitch Up! Smack My Bitch up! Smack My Bitch Up! Smack My Bitch up! Smack My Bitch Up! Arthur suggested it was possibly an early Mendelssohn symphony, but Peralopolies removed his pants and explained that his lower wheels were not moving in a way that suggested the maestro.

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