Making Myself a Meal

Mordecai Heller considered himself a very civilized man in a society full of savages and imbeciles. It seemed to him that everyone around himself had some issue that rendered them incapable of reaching his level: that of a consummate professional. Whether it was the inability to dress sharply, conduct oneself in a respectable manner, or simply lacking the brains to string together a coherent thought, there was always something. He could count on one hand the number of people he respected in his life.

Which was why being forced to associate with Roark "Rocky" Rickaby of all people for was such a stain on his dignity. Rickaby had, impressively, managed to develop into all of the previously mentioned criteria. Mordecai watched with disdain as the other cat hopped on one foot, taking off an ill-fitting shoe to remove some debris. He had a way of rambling about topics that had no business existing in the same sentence; in fact, he was in the middle of one such monologue. Mordecai had learned to filter them out.

Rickaby also insisted on dressing in this bright blue that Mordecai found utterly embarrassing to stand next to. It was more befitting of the incompetent third-stringer he was meant to be, not someone meant to accompany him on a surveillance mission. It didn't involve any actual sneaking, just observing from a nearby building, but still. Mordecai dreaded the thought of being seen with him. By comparison, he dressed sharply in black and white, matching his own fur. It was Mitzi's insistence that someone come with him, and with nobody else available, that left Roark. He supposed it was his own fault for leaving her in the hands of those less adept.

Rocky, on the other hand, was thrilled to be on such a mission. Of course, he was thrilled to do just about anything for "Miss M". But even a stick-in-the-mud like Mordecai here could be a source of a fun time! Especially given the trinket Rocky had discovered recently. He hoped it would help Mordecai broaden his horizons, at least for a little while. For Rocky himself, he knew he'd be feeling pretty content by the end of the night.

Once he was done with his spiel on the links between Buster Keaton, spying, and chocolates, he turned to look at Mordecai. His white-furred brow was twitching and Rocky laughed, "Looks like you could use something sweet in life yourself!"

Mordecai didn't even provide him with the pleasure of a glare. He simply responded, "All I need is for you to be silent, Rickaby."

"Oh, don't be like that! It's just the two of us, why not relax that angry little body of yours?"

That got under his skin enough to earn a look. "I'm not angry. I am simply conducting myself in a manner befitting of our assigned duty, which you are also part of, if you recall."

Rocky made a show of then peeking out the window, scanning the street. Then he turned back and said, "Well, I see neither hide nor hair of our man of the hour, so I think it's okay to socialize with each other! Come on Heller, what do you like to do?"

"Sit in silence."

Rocky groaned. "For fun?"

"The quiet of a room is actually quite nice. Maybe you should try it sometime."

This clearly wasn't going anywhere, so Rocky decided he would speed things along. If Mordecai wasn't going to open up, he had other ways of making him more pleasant to be around. He walked over to the hat rack by the door, picking up his blue fedora. It seemed to have a certain buzz in his hands ever since he applied that whatchamacallit to it. He knew just why that was, or at least what was expected to happen. Now it was time to try it out.

He practically skipped back across the room to Mordecai, stopping just short of bowling into his chair. He was busy looking out the window, so with the dainty touch of a card stacker, Rocky placed his hat atop Mordecai. The cat's ear flicked under it, irritated by the presence, although he didn't immediately knock it off. "Rickaby, just what do you think you're doing?"

Rocky sported a big toothy grin as he said, "I thought your ensemble could use a dash of color! A spark of joy in your life, that we can fan into a beautiful flame!"

Mordecai put down the blind he was holding open and turned to face him now, irritated by the blue brim blocking his vision. "I don't need a dash of color or 'spark of joy,' especially not from you. In fact, I would be downright ecstatic if you simply left me alone without forcing your garish headwear upon me."

After a dramatic gasp of mock offense, Rocky replied, "Well, fine then! If it's so awful, give it back to me!"

"Tch. Why on Earth would I give you m--"

His internal filter caught the word just before it could leave his lips. Caught the entire thought, really. Something that shouldn't have been there. But why wouldn't he think that? After all, it was his-- no, no, it wasn't! There was some incongruity in his mind. One that was giving him a headache to try and think about. He groaned and leaned his head against his paw in an attempt to get it to go away. After a moment with his eyes closed, he opened them back up to see Rocky's bright blue ones filling his vision. He said, "Something the matter, chum?" without a hint of concern.

Mordecai sat back up and growled, "Rocky, what are you talking about?"

He rocked on his feet and said, "Oh I don't know, it seemed like you're not feeling like yourself! You didn't even get to finish your sentences, and I know Mordecai Heller just loves to finish sentences."

"Yes," he said with a wince of pain from his head, "yes he does." Mordecai shook his head. Why did he refer to himself in the third person? This was ridiculous. He stood up from his chair, brushing Rocky out of the way as he walked towards the sink in the corner of the room. Pulling out a handkerchief, he ran it under water and began to dab his forehead. Was he becoming ill with something? His immune system was usually impeccable, but it wasn't completely impossible.

He could hear Rocky coming up behind him, something that made his tail flick in annoyance. The other cat said, "Huh, I never noticed before just how fluffy your tail is!"

"What are you babbling about??" Mordecai twisted around, examining his own tail. Certainly it was voluminous, moreso than the rest of his short fur, but it had always been that way. Mordecai reminded him of such with great irritation in his voice.

Rocky put his hands up and said, "Didn't mean to strike a nerve! Just reminded me of my own, ha!"

"We are nothing alike, Rocky."

"Really? Oh, but we even have the same eyes!"

Before he could spit back that his eyes are green, that internal filter caught him: no they weren't! Another ridiculous thought, even if he felt unsure about this correction. He instead simply stated, "Many people have blue eyes, Rocky. It doesn't mean we're at all the same."

"If you say so, Mordy."

"Don't call me that."

"Oh, woe," Rocky said with a dramatic hand upon his head, "how could I refer to my dear friend with such an insufficient title! Tell me, what name would you prefer?"

With a growl, "Roark." That hung in the air just long enough for it to ferment, tainted by the toothy grin Rocky sported. 'Roark' shook his head, clutching it in his hands. "No, no, no, no, no, something's wrong, something's wrong... What have you done to me, Rocky?!"

Rocky's grin stayed right where it was and no such explanation came. Roark turned back around, staring at the grimy mirror to inspect his own reflection. His glasses felt out of place, so he removed them. He couldn't tell what was wrong, but something felt off. Had the distribution of his coat shifted? He was always this chimeric blend between black/white and gray/beige. He even had his jacket made with a unique blue/black split to match! It was really a delight to look at, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked at it.

Roark jerked away from the mirror like it burned him, feeling his facial muscles lifting. He covered his mouth in horror. That wasn't right. None of this was right! An uneasiness unlike anything he's felt before was boiling in the pit of his stomach. It felt like bile was coming up his throat, burning at his insides. What leaked out was not liquid, but a choked sound previously unheard of from himself.

Nervously, maniacally, he began to laugh. He looked over at Rocky and started to laugh even harder, for some inscrutable reason. Tears even formed at the corners of his eyes. It was just so funny! All of this, everything! Looking at Rocky, he felt like he was looking into a mirror of what he should look like. No... No? No, that was right! All this black fur, that was more Mordecai's thing. Roark had a more approachable color, one he could feel spreading like wildfire across his body. Even his clothes, he felt like he could hear them restitching themselves as it brightened to a blue that matched his own hat.

That's right! This was his hat! He couldn't believe he'd forgotten. A silly thing, really, to forget what your own hat looks like! Not to mention thinking he was someone like Mordecai. What a stuck-up guy. He feels much more relaxed as Roark-- Rocky! Roark's so formal. He rocked on his feet and streeeetched his arms out, his body crackling as he lost a couple inches. His memory was really coming back to him now, clearing out some of the lingering misconceptions. Born in 1904, not '99, in St. Louis and not the Big Apple. A younger cousin, no siblings, and he just worked for Lackadaisy of course!

Rocky let out a relieved sigh as his body settled down. He looked at his hands: just the way they've always been. He even had on his unique orange tie with an 'R' at the end. Well, it would be unique, except there was another Rocky in the room! They looked exactly the same , outside of the other one being hatless. Rocky asked, "Say, where's your hat, you handsome devil you?"

Rocky chuckled back, "I gave you that one, remember?"

"Hmm... I don't think I do! My memory of recent events seems a little fuzzy, in fact..."

"Hah, I imagine that's to be expected when you've gone through such a marvelous metamorphosis!"

Rocky laughed at that, adjusting his hat. The two of them were a riot, to be sure. The rest of Lackadaisy would be thrilled to learn they could have twice the Rocky! "Well, now what, me? I take it there was some reason we're standing in this very... venerable abode!"

The hatless Rocky shrugged. "Eh, it's not really too important." He licked his chops, rubbing his hands together deviously. "So, you really don't remember what the plan was?"

He racked his brain for the answer. Why was it so hard to remember? He was usually better at remembering his schemes, and this certainly felt like one of some kind. His memories were ever so slowly seeping in. He remembered plotting at Mari-- no, that was some sort of strange illusion, one that vanished from his mind almost as soon as he could consider it. That was right, he had found this peculiar tome, describing an enchantment. And from there, a plan hatched...

"AHA! That's right!" shouted Rocky, his hat nearly sliding off his head. "We imbued our hat with those mystic energies, which supposedly would let us change someone of our choosing into our exact doppelganger!"

"That's right! And what next?"

His stomach growled at the thought. "Well, we've always been curious what we taste like, so we figured this would be the perfect opportunity to rid ourselves of that persnickety Mordecai!" He grinned at his double and said, "Well, I hope you've made your peace!"

Rocky frowned. "Wait, but you're the--"

Rocky wasted no time, pouncing on his hatless self. Rocky struggled under Rocky, but their equally strong noodle arms meant they were going nowhere. And so, Rocky opened his maw as wide as he could, wrapping his jaws around his dupe's head. With no hat in the way, Rocky had full freedom to enjoy himself. And what a delight! It turned out having a diet of mostly syrup, waffles, and other sugary snacks meant you were quite a sweet treat. The other Rocky was missing out!

That Rocky, the one presently inside of his double's mouth, was not having nearly as much fun. There was pressure pinning down his body outside and pressure all around his skull on the inside. Worst of all, he felt every inch of the other Rocky tasting him, his rough tongue dragging all over his fur, mussing it up. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! He was almost more upset that he was missing out on the taste experience than his imminent demise.

The pressure around his head doubled when the clutch of throat muscles sucked him down. Outside, Rocky was enjoying just how swallowing himself whole was feeling. He'd gulped some others once or twice before, but there was something different about it, knowing that it was yourself. He looked down at the blue suit his meal was wearing, identical to his own, of course. Part of him felt bad, destroying his own suit, but he didn't need a second pair. With a single claw, he dragged it down Rocky's back, unwrapping him from his clothes. Now he could really savor that sweet, sweet flavor.

Rocky felt scandalized, feeling the cold air hit his skin as his suit and its layers fell away. Not to mention his pants being pulled down! After a few more gulps, his head emerged into the stomach so he could complain, "Hey, those clothes were one of a kind! ...Er, well, now they are again? ...Point is, let a guy have some dignity!" He immediately got a response by way of very ticklish mouthing around his middle, a motormouth that was too full to run. He laughed from the feeling, writhing around until he stopped and another swallow dragged him further down. Then he said, "Hey, didn't anyone ever teach us to not talk with our mouths full?"

Rocky responded by muffledly trying to say, "This meal sure tastes funny!" but it came out incomprehensible, and the Rocky entering his stomach started to laugh and wriggle around again. That stopped once he swallowed again, reaching the other Rocky's waist. This was such a good idea. He tasted so good too! He hoped the hat trick would work more than once, because he might change to a diet of exclusively Rockys after this. His legs kicked as he began to slurp down the end; he thought he'd be more willing to go along with being a meal, considering this was his plan. Oh well!

As he was packed further and further into his double's stomach, it just got tighter and tighter. He began to wonder how such a small guy could even eat the way he did, but logic had never been too much of a restraint on him. Them. He could imagine perfectly well how satisfied he must look on the outside, how delicious he must be judging by how much time he spent just savoring his body! Oh, how he wished to be in the position he planned.

The cat with the hat was reaching the end now, removing Rocky's shoes so he could get a taste of those paws one more time. After a thorough slathering with his tongue, he made one last firm GLK. Rocky's puffy tail was slurped down with ease, leaving Rocky all alone with a heavy, distended belly full of Rocky. Looking down, he could see one error he made: He forgot to undo his own clothes before this. His buttons had long since burst off, disappeared forever into the rest of the room. He let out a short groan, but at least he had some duplicates of the buttons, thanks to his body double. Speaking of which, he laid his ear on his gut to ask, "How's the weather in there, my dear self?"

"Peachy!" He responded, pushing against the stomach walls to resist their attempts to churn against him. "Like a hot summer day, albeit more Mississippi Delta than Arizona! How is it out there?"

"Delightful! Another balmy St. Lou night. And might I add, we are absolutely delicious! Like a candied ham, marinated in syrup! Sorry you had to draw the short straw, but rest assured that it was for a good cause!" He patted his stomach, right over Rocky's head. Shortly thereafter a rude BUUUOOORP escaped as if to highlight his satisfaction. "Excuse me, me."

Hearing Rocky's description of how he tasted made his mouth water, despite the situation. He spoke over the gurgling stomach, "Sounds great! Now, Rocky, I think there's been a little misunderstanding. You see, I'm the original! The real McCoy! First of our kind! So, I think it'd only be fair if you spit me out and let me have the honors, don't you agree?"

Rocky's expression turned puzzled. That didn't make any sense. He remembered everything right up to then, and how could he do that if he wasn't the original? He patted his belly and said, "Nice try, but no deal! I see you've got some of that crafty Mordecai left in you, but I'm afraid I will be the one having supper today."

Rocky dragged his hand down his face, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Me, Mordecai?! You counterfeit copy, you were Mordecai just ten minutes ago!"

"Ha! Then how do I remember looking at him in this very room before we started the fun?"

"You're the one wearing the hat!!"

He looked up at the brim in the top of his vision, considering that for a moment. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was Rocky Rickaby. Always has been, always will be. Even if there was a Rocky Rickaby also in his stomach, soon there would only be one, one way or another. So he responded, "Why don't we leave determining 'the real one' to the philosophers? In a few hours, we'll be one and the same anyway, so you might as well let me enjoy my meal in peace."

Rocky wasn't going to go down without a fight, especially not to his copy that used to be Mordecai. Unfortunately for him, Rocky was plenty used to prey struggling, even if it made him just a tad woozy. He laid down, rubbing across the Rocky-shaped gut as bulges came and went from his fighting. "Such a sore loser! Maybe you really are Mordecai, I bet he'd be putting up a fight just like you. I know if I were the dupe, I'd politely accept my position in the food chain."

This just infuriated Rocky more, causing him to thrash around despite everything. Of course, there was no escape for him, and he knew it. He certainly wouldn't give up his meal if he were in the same position. This truth didn't stop him from struggling for a while, but eventually fatigue took him. When it did, he could finally see the humor in it all. He muttered to himself, "Guess ol' Mordecai got one last laugh... Even he would probably be amused if he were still around."

Rocky patted his belly as it started to settle, feeling its contents slosh around. "Ahh... that's more like it, me. I knew you'd come around! Uooooorp. 'Scuse me!"

"Hey, me... Promise me one thing. Take care of Freckle and Miss M, will you?"

"What a silly request to make of yourself! You might as well ask for the sky to be blue tomorrow. Just worry about digesting, Rocky. This Rocky can take care of all the rest."

He laughed, leaning against the stomach walls. "Of course, how silly of me." He was starting to melt like a sundae in there, letting him know there wasn't too much time left. "You know... this does actually feel kinda nice! Like a sauna, or maybe like I'm a marshmallow in a cup of hot cocoa..."

Rocky tried to imagine what that must feel like, but he could only really infer from his softening gut and counterpart's description. "Well buddy, I guess we're each getting something unique out of this!"

"Yeah... Say, I wonder how many pounds you're about to pick up? We've always had a metabolism that would put a locomotive to shame, but maybe I'll sit different if I'm as sweet as you say!"

"Oh criminy," Rocky said as he put his hands up to his head. "Why didn't we consider that?! I don't have enough money to see a tailor if I get bloated like a whale!"

After a short delay, both of them lit up with the same idea. "Unless..."

The Rocky still wearing his clothes went after the discarded pants lying on the ground. He dug into its pockets and discovered: his own wallet. Complete with the single dollar he had to his name at the moment. With a groan and a little hesitance, he dug into his own pocket to check his wallet. It was identical, complete with the same single dollar bill. He felt a sigh of relief, even though it meant he was still poor, even though he knew he was Rocky. "Bad news, my succulent self: we both have the same wallet! On the bright side, I doubt a singular funny dollar will raise any eyebrows."

"Well, it was worth a try... I think I'm just going to relax." Rocky laid back against the stomach walls, feeling rather floaty. "Ah... I can just let my worries melt away! Literally, heh. Good luck with your wardrobe difficulties, me."

"And good luck with your imminent dissolution! I'll be sure to put the fuel to good use, assuming you don't weigh me down too heavily." With that, the Rockys stopped talking. The last words from one, while the other simply slipped into a casual nap. His stomach worked on himself without any qualms about the identity at all. At this point anyway, only one Rocky was recognizable as such.

*/^\*

Rocky woke up to a beam of sunlight hitting his eye. He stretched out with a big yawn, feeling his belly slosh as he did. Looking down, he could see that the worst had happened: he sported a mighty paunch, one that seemed to be sticking around. "Suppose one might call that self-absorbed?" He chuckled to himself alone, which quickly turned into a loud huoooOOOORRRRRUPPP! Besides plenty of spittle, the belch had ejected one last reminder of last night: Rocky's own soaked tie, albeit only the end with the R sewn into it.

Later on, when he reported back to Mitzi, he did so with a sheepish grin. He stood there with his gut just less than an inch above her desk, barely held up by some hastily sewn-on buttons and his suspenders. His clothes left little to the imagination, not to mention his widened silhouette. She simply sighed and said, "Tell me that isn't Mordecai."

"It's not!" He slapped down the melted fragment of his tie, as if that explained it all.

Mitzi looked at it, then up at the identical one he was still wearing. "Fine. Where is Mordecai, then?"

He made a gesture of something disappearing in a puff of smoke. "Vanished! Without a trace! It's like he never existed... very strange, if you ask me."

She groaned and dropped it. "Did you at least see anything last night?"

"See what?"

"The informant. Did you see him?"

"Oh. Ohhhh! No Miss M, I have nothing to report there!" Especially since he didn't look once things got going.

She groaned again, resting her head on her hand while she stared blankly at the window. After a moment she collected herself and said, "That's all, Rocky. But get some better-fitting clothes by tomorrow, okay? We have some semblance of an image to uphold."

He nodded with a toothy grin and lumbered out the door. Resting a hand on his belly, he almost couldn't believe he'd managed to do it. Mordecai was out of their hair for good and he'd settled his own curiosity, all in one fell swoop. He ran his fingers across the brim of his hat, feeling the faint charge of energy as he did. It transferred into a giddiness within him, making him do a little jig in place. Leave it to the one and only Rocky Rickaby to hatch such a plan! It felt good, being himself. He'd have to let some others try it out in the near future.