The Port Alveridge Fish Cannery workers marched to Catside today where they have staged a camp-out in front of the Opera House. Spokeshound, Jeremy Folksbeard risked his life scaling the giant marble portico with a mattress and giant megaphone strapped to his back and announced to all of Catside that they would not be leaving until the humble radio was reinstated back into the factory production lines, he went on asserting workers rights, freedom of speech ands most of all the right to have music of their choice made available to work to.
The evenings show- ‘Leonisky’s La Vengence de la Marionnettiste’ (Revenge of the Puppeteer) has been canceled much to the outcry of Feline Opera goers.
The situation has escalated since the Bronson Howlers motorcycle gang showed up revving their Hounsters in an “uncontrolable manner” according to reverend Hank Kneebender who had come across the river to offer “hope to houndkind” and paper cups of warm milk to the few “rubber-neckers” that lingered behind in the Opera grounds. According to chief police Tom, Tom McShafter, this is the ninth protest this month. It is expected to continue for some time.
Leniency no option for lamppost cat trio
Three cats found lashed to a lamppost in downtown Alveridge were sentenced to community service this morning.
The trio were dealt with by southern magistrates, for disturbing the peace.
Their pleas for clemency fell on deaf ears, as Magistrate Dribbler unsuccessfully adjusted his hearing aid.
“If you cats think it’s amusing to come to Houndside and tie yourself to public street furniture, you need to learn who’s having the last laugh,” said Mr Dribbler.
The public gallery was full, notably with suspicious looking hounds still wearing the social uniform of the Portside Pitchers they’d been out in the night before following their baseball victory over Dynamo Downtown.
Their belts and ties featured an identical pattern to the ones used to attach the cats to the lamppost.
One of the Cats argued it was impossible for a cat to tie him or herself to anything and be unable to escape, and pointed to the gallery, accusing the onlookers of committing the deed.
She told how he and his friends had infiltrated a hound nightclub wearing hound masks to play the juke box, and claimed the hounds in the gallery had force-fed them Wilk, before marching them out to the road.
Mr Dribbler would have none of it.
“This is preposterous, where’s your proof?” he demanded.
The three will now spend the next three Saturday afternoons polishing the kerbs of Alveridge High Street.
