The back of the cat’s head
The back of the cat’s head obviously belongs to the cat, but Flea C didn’t think so. He believed that spot was his territory.
“But that’s a part of the cat’s body, a place he can reach whenever he wants,” said the Flea King. “You’re merely a resident of that place.”
They were having this conversation on a drum. Every three or five days, the fleas would gather on the drum for afternoon tea. They would also hop around, causing the drum to go “boom boom boom”—though in fact, they were just talking.
Flea C said boldly, “So what if it’s part of the cat’s body? I am the king of the back of the head.”
“If the cat doesn’t mind, I think it’s fine,” Flea D sided with Flea C, as they were all residents of the same cat.
The King could only nod and say, “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. If the cat suddenly scratches, you might be in trouble.”
“Scratch? What scratch?” Fleas D, A, and B all laughed, louder than the sound of the drum. “As long as we don’t irritate him, he won’t feel itchy.”
“I think so too,” Flea C chimed in, though he didn’t laugh.
The King said nothing, and certainly didn’t laugh.
One day, the cat suddenly started spinning around in circles. He couldn’t remember what important thing he was supposed to do today. Flea C was enjoying the ride—it was like being on a merry-go-round.
Unable to recall, the cat lifted his hind paw and scratched the back of his head. “Whoa!” Flea C was almost scratched off, but he quickly grabbed onto a cat hair, clinging close to the cat’s scalp.
After scratching for a while, the cat finally remembered, “I need to buy coffee beans today!” He said this while raising his front paw to tap his forehead, giving his face a quick wash at the same time.
No one expected that during the next afternoon tea, Flea D would show up covered in bandages. When they asked, they found out it was from the cat’s paw-tap to the forehead that day. “It almost flattened me,” Flea D said, still trembling a little.
Flea C wanted to complain about the cat, scratching his head and patting his forehead so casually. After all, they weren’t making him feel itchy. But C held back, remembering what the King had said—that body belonged to the cat.
“The King did warn us, after all,” Flea C muttered, scratching the back of his own head, wondering if there were even tinier creatures living there.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
