OK. OK then. That's it? Really? Just- no. No. Honestly. The goal is to steal dinner? Come on now. I, the man who eats cats, can do a lot better than that. So much better. It's not like- I don't know- I'm pressed for a job or anything. No, not at all. Of course not. Why would I be? I'm the Cat-Eater. Of course I haven't been stuck on alley cats for the past few months- all skin and bones- far from the days where I ate the cats of the Tsars. They had respected me. You know what? I'm going to revolt against the system. I don't want to steal Harry's dinner. I know how this story is going to end, and I have no desire to face the bars of prison again or to be a villain in yet another saga, to be the Big Bad Wolf or the one who mommies tell their children to be afraid of. Heck, I scare enough kids already when they catch me snacking on Pussy!
Yes, I'll make my revolt official tomorrow. I think I'll rescue a cat from a tree- isn't that what heroes do? I'll try not to eat it. Promise. Then I'll save a few damsels, kill a few villains, and then I'll disappear off the face of the earth. That'll be a nice ending, I think.
But that won't be it. Someone will recognize me. I'll be stuck, again, behind prison bars. Someone called Harry will triumph over me. They'll congratulate him for having foiled my plan to eat the cat in the tree. Then they might kill me. It's been long enough, after all, and then the nation will rejoice, because their cats will be safe.
I think I'll stick with stealing Harry's dinner. He might not kill me for it. After all, I might just get away. And he might have a cat....
Just might.