Revolution in Felicia
Short Fiction
By Clarice Critterton, Felicia Daily Mews Historian
It was a warm spring morning in the land of Felicia when the first acrid whiffs of unrest began wafting through the streets of the Catnip District. Gathering like a furry maelstrom was the infamous Bark Opposition, that scrappy band of malcontent dogs led by the roguish retriever Rufus.
What began as a typical protest over lack of canine representation in the feline-dominated government quickly devolved into abject chaos. Lobbed rocks shattered windows of the historic Yarn Ball Emporium as furious barks and yowls filled the air. Scattered reports soon poured in of trampled produce vendors and even an innocent caterpillar casualty, struck down in its prime by a stray pebble.
“Squash the squash! Squash the squash!” came the fevered cries from the safety of overturned fruit carts.
Word of this tragedy quickly reached the ears of the bug community, sparking outrage and vows of vengeance. Meanwhile, reports of the upheaval triggered a panic across the woodlands as the squirrel separatists, headed by the overly-paranoid Furry Tail, began hoarding nuts at a frenetic pace.
“They’ll have to pry my walnuts from my cold, dead paws!” The dishevelled rodent was often times heard screeching from high up his tree hollows, already stockpiling for the rapidly-escalating Squirrelocalypse.
With chaos gripping all corners of Felicia, it seemed the long-standing tensions between the ruling class Whisker Party cats and Rufus’s Bark Opposition would actually boil over into all-out war. That’s when an unlikely band of feathered peacemakers took to the winds.
The vibrant Australian Parrots, never ones to be quiet or subtle, formed an unexpected alliance with the Mynah birds hailing from the savannahs of Africa. With slogan-adorned pamphlets fluttering through every borough, these airborne diplomats took bold action.
“Flocks not Fights!” Their message implored all species to cease the hostilities and unite under a new “Wing to Wing” coalition with ideologically adjacent factions. The sluggish Sloth Party was the first to hang their hammocks, lazily backing the idea if it meant a return to prolonged napping.
The industrious Moles United soon joined the pact, realizing the constant undermining of their tunnel networks during civil disturbances was an unsustainable existence. “We’ll dig the foundation if they build us peace,” their chief Goldie Lox loudly whispered in a subterranean proclamation.
Even the elegant Elderly Orang Outang Boys Choir lent their harmonies, wandering the war zones while crooning soulful ballads about finding “Common Ground.”
Just as it seemed this eclectic pact had a chance to quell Felicia’s rapidly unravelling social fabric, a new and even more insidious threat emerged — the Chip Alliance.
Masterminded by that Machiavellian rodent himself, Alvin Chipmunk, this rogue assemblage of nut-hungry scofflaws executed a brazen coup. Through deft utilization of squirrel infantry brigades and elite mud ball launchers, they overwhelmed the unsuspecting staff of Disney World in a stunning blitzkrieg.
From the highest peak of Cinderella’s castle, Alvin gloatingly issued his ultimatum through a scratch-torn bullhorn: Total capitulation by all cats, dogs and birds to the chipmunk revolution and the installation of a new nut-centric global order. Any who refused, regardless of species, would taste the furious fury of sustained mud ball bombardment.
With stomping feet and cheeks dramatically stuffed from pre-emptive castle snacking, the Chipmunks extended an open invitation to all fellow furries — join their glorious uprising and they would rule the new kingdom unopposed. First to defect were Furry Tail’s separatist squirrel legions, already intoxicated by visions of infinitely renewable nut-based governance.
It was at this low point, this near-apocalyptic unravelling of the very fabric of Felicia’s civilization, that the land’s most humble unsung heroes arose to take a stand.
Like smaller versions of Atlantis surfacing from the deep, the unified Ants and Termite Youth movement strategically infiltrated the fur and feathers of all political delegates with a coordinated infestation. By the time Alvin issued his first “Muuuddd!!” bombardment order, every faction found themselves inadvertently cohabitating with the relentless insect legions.
“Unless lasting peace and harmony are immediately decreed among all creatures and conflicts cease, we shall remain your eternal room-mates,” declared Sergeant Antony, the tiny militia’s lead ambassador currently embedded in the wiry haunches of Rufus.
“You can forget ever finding a moment’s rest from our incessant tickles and excavations!” echoed his termite aide, similarly tucked within the velvety burrow of Goldie Lox the mole chief. A conga line of ants even scurried defiantly across the beak of Saxophon Jones, interrupting his mellifluous crooning mid-verse.
The thought of facing this merciless, permanent infestation gave even the most stalwart revolutionary paws furious. For perhaps the first time ever, bitter enemies found themselves united against a truly implacable foe — one that threatened to quite literally get under their skin and never leave.
Faced with this existential prospect, the grizzled Rufus and his canine comrades begrudgingly ceased their barks. Down from their ill-gotten Disney palace Alvin and Co. retreated to contemplate a life of relentless, itinerant termite infestations. Even the pigs of the Trottoir Party cried no mas.
In the following whirlwind seven days, the unthinkable was achieved — the newly-ratified “Statute to Bear Cheese, Cauliflower and Custard.” This landmark accord abolished all former antiquated social and governing boundaries, uniting all of Felicia into an alliance of harmony through their mutual appreciation of key comestible goods.
The once-ruling Whisker Party cats rebranded as the Cheesemakers, creamy peacemakers of the dairy delicacy world. Their barking foes became the Cauliflower Crunchers, recognizing their affinity for loud, pungent vegetable emissions.
As for the often-mocked pigs, they pivoted to become the Custard Creamers, embracing their true vocation as Felicia’s premier frozen dessert connoisseurs. Finally, skunks were granted the long-overdue right via constitutional amendment to freely wear diapers without fear of discrimination.
Once sworn adversaries across all species soon found themselves bonded through eccentric infusion-based culinary exchange programs and weekly cross-cultural fondue festivals. The ants and termites, victorious in their velvet glove stratagem, happily vacated their conquered furry territories to pursue professional pomading partnerships.
Lasting peace and prosperity had blossomed from the ashes of conflict’s embers, so much so that radio broadcasters were soon issuing public health curfew warnings about looming “outbreaks of extended tranquillity.”
In the land of Felicia, all friends and neighbours can now raise their custard-dipped cauliflower stalks in celebratory toast to the enduring, uniting power of dairy-based unity and protective skunk underwear rights for all. A true inspiration beckoning to the world at large.
