The Purging Of Ruen - Abridged

By "Thomas" "Corfield"

In which an insane and bitter cat schemes to save her beloved city by destroying it.

When assigned to determine the cause of brewing tensions in the exclusive seaside city of Ruen, Oscar Teabag-Dooven discovers it’s on the brink of tearing itself apart. Things become complicated when it appears those responsible are in charge of running the place.

Drawn into a scandalous plot of insanity and greed, Oscar befriends the Dervy, a young revolutionary, by throwing her off a cliff, and Horace, an elderly doctor with a phobia of worming ointments.

Together they battle the ruthless genius of Sedervitz Tappen-Noo and the grievous insanity of the Pyjami, in an attempt to save a beautiful city from certain destruction.

But things don’t go according to plan. Principally because they don’t have one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scribl
• Release date: Jan 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781633480414

"Thomas" "Corfield"

Thomas Corfield was born in London several years ago, definitely before last Thursday. This was a good year for all concerned, and for him in particular, because without it, later years would mean little. He owes a lot to that first year, and now lives because of it in undisclosed locations after having successfully absconded from probation. Although he finds making friends difficult, this is only because no one likes him. Including his mother, who didn’t bother giving him a name until he was nine. His solicitor describes him as having an allergy to apostrophes and an aversion to punctuation that borders on pathological. This makes the popularity of his books all the more remarkable. At least it would if there was any. But there isn't. So it doesn't. He was recently interviewed in Joomag's Meals of Food magazine, which didn't help anyone.

Book preview

THE VELVET PAW OF ASQUITH NOVELS

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THE PURGING OF RUEN – ABRIDGED

THOMAS CORFIELD

Panda

Panda Books Australia

VELVETPAWOFASQUITH.COM

THOMASCORFIELD.COM

Corfield is a writer who ought to have his poetic licence revoked.

—Heidi Maitland, Hard but Fair.

Each word has been chosen with no regard for those preceding.

—Sorbet Flamm, Highly controversial in a traditional sense.

Finally, a reason to encourage illiteracy.

—Debbie Stott, Single Minded Mutli-tasker.

Licence Notes

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Written in Australian English.

Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share it with your friends, or even force it upon them if they’re not interested. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, or even printed out to then write shopping lists on, provided the book remains in its complete original form, which implies a lot of shopping.

If you enjoyed this book, then there’s something wrong with you. Find a mirror, have a good, hard look at yourself and try to determine what it might be. Asking family members directly can be useful, as can total strangers after recounting a brief synopsis of your life. The latter can, however, result in prosecution, which might go some way to obtaining a differential diagnosis via expert witnesses.

Read the other Dooven Books.

Copyright Thomas Corfield.

Contents

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Title Page

Licence

About the Books

Important Note

The Morigan Trilogy

Cinematic Audiobooks

Opening Chapter

A Chapter from the Complete Book

A Bonus Chapter

About the Publisher

About the Author

Other Titles

Don’t Miss out!

About The Books

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Consider a world inhabited with only cats and dogs: a society recognizable as our own, but with its eccentricities being the norm, rather than the exception. A world where the charm of Kenneth Grahame’s Wind In the Willows meets the exotic world of Ian Fleming’s Bond. A world where fluffy just got dangerous. These are the Velvet Paw of Asquith Novels, also known as the Dooven Books.

Welcome to the genre of New Fable.

The books follow Oscar Teabag-Dooven, a secret agent who believes he's more a poet than a spy, in a series of international, jet-setting adventures involving greed, espionage and the odd foray into professional cheese-shaping. Unfolding with a gratuitousness only possible in a world unrestrained by conventional society, the Velvet Paw of Asquith novels take the word mystery far too literally, and the word intrigue not literally enough.

This ebook is accompanied by a Cinematic Audiobook production, which can be found at all good online audiobook retailers and podcast sites, unless it’s not there.

Important Note

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The Velvet Paw of Asquith Novels are international jet-setting adventures with large casts of characters. As examples of New Fable genre fiction, they do not have individual protagonists and antagonists, but instead have character couples known as protagona and antagona.

These character couples afford greater immersion into the books’ expansive cinematic atmosphere through carefully constructed shifts in character point-of-view. It is hoped that this cultivates greater vibrancy and depth to the books’ cinematic ludicrousness.

Get ready for the Morigan Trilogy!

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More cats and dogs and high adventure and romance and espionage and food fights and hotels and explosions and car chases!

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Darker, fluffier, and much more dangerous.

Cinematic Audiobooks

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The Velvet Paw of Asquith Novels are available as award-winning audiobooks, with lush orchestrations and immersive cinematics. Find them at all good online retailers, and some less reputable ones.

Dedication

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For everyone.

1

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"Courage: a modesty born from fear,

and any animal who boasts of bravery

knows the meaning of neither."

– The Loud Purr of Asquith.

OSCAR drummed his paws on the reception desk. I think I’m about to be expelled, he said.

The receptionist looked up at him. I’m sorry?

I think, said Oscar, that I’ve been summoned here to be expelled.

Expelled?

Yes.

She frowned. What on earth makes you think that, Mister Dooven?

The last five weeks, for a start.

But you’ve been on holiday for four of them.

I sat in my living room with the blinds drawn.

That doesn’t sound like much of a holiday.

Well, it was, said Oscar, considering the week prior to it.

"I’m sure you’re not about to be expelled, Mister Dooven. The notion’s quite ridiculous."

Then why do I feel as though I want to bring up my breakfast?

Was it a particularly bad breakfast, perhaps?

I haven’t had any breakfast, said Oscar. That’s the problem; I couldn’t eat on account of my concerns about being expelled.

Well, maybe you should have breakfast, the receptionist said. I can have some buns sent up if you like. The Loud Purr hasn’t arrived yet. You might be waiting for some time.

No thank you, said Oscar. I couldn’t eat a thing.

What about a hot-fin?

No. I fear I’d vomit it all over his carpet.

I could ask them to include a bucket?

It’s very kind of you, said Oscar, but I think it’s best if my stomach remains just as bereft of hope as the rest of me.

She frowned again. I must say, Mister Dooven, your concern is surprising. I would have thought you’d be encouraged to be summoned to the Lair under the circumstances.

Circumstances?

Yes, she said. The ones revolving around you having just saved the world.

Oscar looked at his paws. The problem with saving the world is that I may have broken most of it in the process.

She leant forward and smiled. Mister Dooven, the Loud Purr has summoned you to the Lair for reasons far from expulsion, I am quite certain.

Then why do I feel like vomiting?

Certainly the Loud Purr has that effect on Velvet Paws. He can be most intimidating.

Oscar stared at the desk and wished he was back in bed with the blinds drawn.

Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you, Mister Dooven?

I might have that bucket, after all, he said.

When the receptionist reached for a phone, Oscar left the desk to wait for both the bucket and the Loud Purr in the Lair. He pushed through large bronze doors, and stood in the high room of the Catacombs. It was circular, walled by aged oak and draped in burgundy curtains. At its centre was a broad desk with two telephones, one brown and one an assertive red. Behind the desk waited a high-backed chair, and behind this was a tall, narrow window with velvet drapes drawn.Oscar wandered to the chair and pondered sitting in it. Being a chair, this wasn’t an unusual thought, but because it belonged to the Loud Purr, it was a decidedly dangerous one.

But if he was about to be expelled, it hardly mattered.

He sat.

The chair swivelled and he played his paws across the Loud Purr’s desk, revelling in a rush of authority. "Did I ask you to speak? he growled at an empty one opposite. I am the Loud Purr! You will speak when spoken to—and only then when I tell you what to say—"

The Lair’s doors opened, and in panic, Oscar threw himself from the desk—inadvertently taking a telephone with him, which clattered to the floor in a peal of strangled rings. With a curse, he fought to untangle himself as the refined paws of a battle-hardened Velvet Paw approached. Unable to, he stood to attention, leaving the telephone to unwind and clatter to the floor of its own accord.

The Loud Purr ignored him, walked to his desk and sat authoritatively. Oscar closed his eyes and hoped the Loud Purr had forgotten how many telephones used to be upon it. When he opened them, the cat was staring at the broken one on the floor.

Oscar glanced at it also. Are you looking for this perhaps, Your Great Amazingliness? he asked, winding the phone up via its cord. I think I might have inadvertently tripped over it while I was nowhere near your desk. I’m certain it still works.

It rang in surrender and a bell fell off.

Although it might need mending.

The Loud Purr stared at him and then the phone.

Oscar put the pieces back on the desk, trying to arrange them to resemble the one that remained. It didn’t. Instead, the two resembled a dreadful before-and-after scene.

After blinking at both, the Loud Purr gestured for him to sit.

Oscar did so, and tucked his tail across his lap and into the seat. A bit like a seatbelt.

The large cat asked, Did you have a nice rest, Pantaloons?

I spent most of it in my living room, Your Great Loudness, Oscar said. With the blinds drawn, as you might imagine.

The Loud Purr humphed. Tell me, Pantaloons, have you ever been to the city of Ruen?

Oscar’s whiskers twitched. Well, it’s a place I’ve certainly heard of. I believe it’s a wealthy and exclusive city, south of Milos, renowned for having no crime. But I’ve never visited on account of never having travelled anywhere. At least, not before a month ago.

The large cat stood, wandered to the tall window and moved its drapes aside. Perhaps it is appropriate for you to do so, Pantaloons, he said, peering at the view, considering you have spent the past month indoors?

Oscar was about to say something, but didn’t. The question would be rhetorical. The Loud Purr told animals what to do, he didn’t ask. And if he did, it was only to emphasise the answer he’d then give. But when the large cat whirled around and glared, it seemed he wanted one after all.

Well, said Oscar, that is to say, I’m not certain if—

Have you gotten over that problem with your head, Pantaloons?

Mortified, Oscar placed his paws upon it. Six weeks on, it still felt wrong; all bumpy and gristly amidst his beautiful crowning fur.

It doesn’t actually look that bad, said the Loud Purr.

Oscar remained silent and removed his paws from where ears once stood. He wouldn’t say anything, even if the Loud Purr expected acceptance that losing them was part of curiosa.

Because it wasn’t.

He had no ears.

And how can a cat be taken seriously if it has no ears?

He needed them. And he missed them. Both of them. Oscar had little vanity, but as a white cat, with thick, triple-layered fur, he knew he was a beautiful animal.

Or at least he had been.

Fortunately, my ears still work, Your Enormous Purriness, Oscar said. They just look, well, smaller.

The Loud Purr peered at him. Actually, you can hardly tell, he said. Really, your fur hides things rather well. He moved his paws up and down, in a descriptive manner. "Perhaps you could sort of spike your fur over the gaps and make it look sort of pointy."

It was a ridiculous suggestion, but Oscar tried a smile.

The Loud Purr peered at the view again. Still, we digress. Tell me; how many Velvet Paws of Asquith are there?

Oscar shrugged. Twenty?

And who has been the newest recruit, Pantaloons?

Well, me, I believe, Your Big Loudness.

The Loud Purr nodded in more uncharacteristic introspection. And they are all fine Velvet Paws, having passed their training brilliantly. Indeed, they leave the Velvet Paws of Asquith to be entirely revered.

Oscar cringed. Emphasising his colleagues’ brilliance could only highlight his lack of the same. And criticism seemed most unfair considering his recent curiosa had him saving the world by foiling a villainous cat named the Tremblees.

Paws behind his back, the Loud Purr reverted to his more familiar role of lecturer. The Velvet Paws of Asquith are all clinicians, he said. "They are sharp of method, taut of whisker, and merciless in pursuit of curiosa. Whereas you, Pantaloons, have other talents. You are a quite different animal."

Well, that’s putting it mildly.

In as much as you approach things differently.

Yes, Oscar agreed. My colleagues are a bit like that telephone, and he pointed to the intact one, whereas I’m more like the other one. He would have pointed to it also, but didn’t for fear of more bits falling off it.

Pantaloons, I would suggest that it’s actually the other way around.

Oscar stared at him. It sounded like a compliment. Clearly he should have pointed at the second one after all.

The Catacombs need animals like you.

Like me? Oscar scoffed. What as? Coasters?

No. As Velvet Paws.

What—so you’re not expelling me, Your Diesel-Poweredliness?

There was a surprised pause and the large cat glared at him. "Expelling you? Of course not! What on earth gave you that idea?"

Oscar re-tucked his tail into the chair, as its fluffiness often had it springing from wherever it was inserted. Well, for a start, I’m not the same as the other Velvet Paws. I don’t get along with them. Frankly, I don’t like them very much.

"You don’t need to like them, Pantaloons. They’re colleagues. They do not have to be friends. Goodness me, this isn’t school, this is the real world, and it’s considerably more complicated than most animals can fathom. And anyway, I find being friendly with animals only adds to such complication. He glowered at Oscar. Do you know why you don’t get along with them, Pantaloons?"

Oscar shrugged. Because I’m a bit wet?

The Loud Purr shook his head. No. It’s because you’re not a soldier. He brought his paws together and leant back in his authoritative chair to stare authoritatively. "We have enough soldiers, Pantaloons. We have enough robots, if you will. What we need are Velvet Paws more thoughtful in the field, Velvet Paws with a gentler approach. Velvet Paws like you, Pantaloons. For you are intuitive rather than logistical, and creative rather than methodical. You are innately curious rather than simply obedient. With a deep breath he leant forward upon his desk. You have talents others do not, Pantaloons. You have a mind that is your own and, most importantly, you