Heavens to Megatons (Patreon)

Thanks for your patience, everyone! I know we're almost at the end of February, but Snagglepuss has been enjoying the extra time off!

                                                                     **************************** 

Tucked away in a corner of Jellystone National Park far away from pic-a-nic baskets and the bears that would steal them lived a rare strain of mountain lion: panthera rosera, instantly recognized for its brilliantly colored pelt. However, conservation groups were in a small panic, as it seemed panthera rosera was down to a dangerously low number- as low as one. The one confirmed sighting in Jellystone was also unique and flamboyant in its attitude; though, were one to ask him directly, Snagglepuss would say he was only passionate, verbose, theatrical, even. 

Snagglepuss had lived in his small section of Jellystone for a very long time, and frankly, he was getting bored. The cavern he called home lacked many creature comforts, and his plots to raise up his standard of living hadn’t worked out for years. He was very close to settling for his lot in life when, on a fine spring day, he felt oddly optimistic. Stepping out of his cave into the warm sun, the mountain lion adjusted his collar and held his head high; he was certain that today would be the day fate would finally give him the chance to live the life of comfort and luxury he so obviously deserved.

“What’s that I spy, out on the horizon?” he muttered to himself, cupping his hand over his brow. Just through the treeline, a trio of slightly red-faced people were approaching, dressed in trendy clothes that seemed ill-suited for hiking through the forest. Each of them wore a large, bright button on their shirts, stamped with the letters F.A.T.S. 

Snagglepuss cocked his head. “Fats?”

“Oh- oh my goodness, it is actually a panthera rosera!” The largest of the three, a rather rotund man with wide glasses, bounded towards the mountain lion, huffing slightly. “Sir, we have come to tell you that your suffering is at an end! We are members of F.A.T.S- Forest Animals Treated Superbly, and we’re here to make sure that you don’t die of extinction.”

“Extinction? Heavens to Murgatroyd! But I’m not dying, I’m fit as a fiddle! Why, I- yeowch! Watch it!” Snagglepuss snarled, as another member of F.A.T.S. prodded his side. “That stings, pinches, hurts, even!”

A woman with a willowy build and her hair in long braids clicked her tongue. “Tsk, we got here just in time! He’s only skin and bones.”

“I beg your pardon!” the feline huffed indignantly, straightening his customary high collar and bolo. “I am naturally svelte!”

“That may be, but we at F.A.T.S. view it as our duty to care for animals that have always known the hard life,” the third activist, a wiry man with a trendy haircut, explained. “We’re here to care for you- cater to your every need, sir. Whatever you need, we at F.A.T.S. will do what we can to make sure you, as one of the last of your kind, never want for anything again!”

Snagglepuss was about to respond in a frustrated fashion, before he stopped to consider. Never wanting for anything again? How often did someone get such an offer like that? The feline switched tactics immediately as he put a hand to his forehead, sighed dramatically, and flopped into the arms of the third F.A.T.S. member. “Well, I have been feeling the cold hand of the grim reaper on my shoulder- living out here like an animal, it’s been dreadful, horrible, terrifying, even!”

“Oh, well, not to worry, my feline friend,” the F.A.T.S. leader said confidently, patting Snagglepuss on the head. “We’ll make sure the rest of your life will be one free of suffering, as a our way of apologizing for man’s destructive nature on… well, nature.”

The one female conservationist scratched her chin. “Of course, now that we have you here, we were hoping you could tell us… what is the natural diet of a panthera rosera?”

Snagglepuss jerked up his head. “You mean you don’t know? I thought you were all animal experts.”

“Oh, we’re activists, not experts. Our degrees are in 18th century French literature and Ancient Mesopotamian philosophy,” the third member added.

“But we’re prepared to save the earth, one endangered species at a time. So really, whatever it is that you need to thrive and prosper, we are ready to provide it,” the F.A.T.S. leader puffed up his chest, swelling with pride.

Snagglepuss tried to hide his sly smile, idle fingers toying with his bolo. “Well, if you really want to know…”

Several weeks later, F.A.T.S. had set up an entire campsite around a full-time kitchen and supply chain to make sure Snagglepuss got exactly what he needed. As it turns out, the natural diet of the panthera rosera was anything it fancied at the moment; Snagglepuss had described himself as a “refined omnivore,” and told his new conservationist friends that pink mountain lions like him had very sensitive stomachs, and required only the finest meals.

Two of F.A.T.S’s newest recruits, tasked with getting Snagglepuss’ latest meal, found it a little hard to believe as they drove back to camp. “Hey, Tom.”

“Yeah, Dave?”

“Do you think that the pink mountain lion might… be having us on?”

Tom quirked his eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Dave began, shuffling through the bags of food. “We’re supposed to be recreating his natural diet, right?”

“Right.”

“So… where would a wild animal find a porterhouse steak with garlic butter and a side of potatoes au gratin?”

Tom slammed the brakes. “Now, really Dave! This poor animal has been living at near-starvation levels of survival for years. How could you be suspicious of him? We’re trying to help him prosper!” The more indignant member of F.A.T.S. exited the car, grabbing the food with self-righteous fervor.

“Trust me, he looks plenty prosperous,” Dave muttered.

Near the entrance of his cave, Snagglepuss was sprawled on a lounge chair, while a F.A.T.S. member rushed over with a large strawberry smoothie, complete with a little umbrella. Sipping at it, Snugglepuss smacked his lips. “Mm, this is tasty, delicious, scrumptious, even! You outdid yourself, Hans, you’re a real pal! Now where’s my appetizer?”

“Oh, coming right up!” the activist dutifully replied, rushing off to collect the mozzarella sticks Snagglepuss had ordered.

The pink mountain lion sighed contentedly, idly rubbing over a very well-fed middle. Being waited on hand and foot definitely agreed with him; he had filled out very quickly and then some, with every feature thickened. His face had grown round and soft, with a double chin tucked under his collar and spilling over his bolo. His belly had grown into something approaching the size of an over-inflated beachball, and wobbled at the slightest touch. The pink feline didn’t mind it, though; if anything, he felt like he was finally living like a truly civilized cat.

As he was presented with his mid-day snack of a porterhouse steak, the F.A.T.S. leader came out to greet him. “Are you feeling comfortable, then? Anything else you need?”

Snagglepuss waved it off gracefully. “Heavens to Murgatroyd, no! These past few weeks have been delightful, simply delightful!”

The head activist beamed. “Oh, well that’s fantastic! Mission accomplished, then.” He turned around, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Alright, gang! That’s another species saved. Pack up, and get ready to move out!” There was a loud cheer as the other F.A.T.S. activists hurriedly started breaking down camp.
“Wait, what?” Snagglepuss jerked up, his belly sloshing as it spilled over his lap. “Wh-where are you going?”

“Well, Mr. Snagglepuss, if you’re all set, we have more animals to save!” The head activist vigorously shook Snagglepuss’ hand,  making the thick layer of lard wrapped around his arm wobble. “We’re glad we could help you out!”

“B-but wait, you can’t just leave me! I still… there’s just…” Snagglepuss wracked his brain, desperate for anything to keep his new servers sticking around. “Hibernation! Yeah! Autumn is on its way, don’tcha know, and I don’t know how I’ll survive the cold, harsh winter…if I don’t I’m sure I’ll just waste away!” the pampered feline moaned, putting his paw to his forehead.

“Land’s sakes!” The F.A.T.S. leader gasped, quickly grabbing Snagglepuss’ arm and petting him comfortingly. “How inconsiderate of us! I’m so sorry, Mr. Snagglepuss, I promise, we won’t abandon you- hey, Steve, google hibernation!”

Another activist quickly pulled out his laptop. “Uh… it says stuff about bears, but nothing about pink mountain lions…”

“Oh, uh…” Snagglepuss’ eyes darted around quickly. “Just, uh, stick with whatever it says about bears, yeah. We’re cousins, practically identical, inseparable, even.”

The lead activist stepped behind his associate, and his eyes boggled. “Great galloping goose! It says here that Snagglepuss needs to gain at least thirty pounds a week.”

The pink feline glanced down at his belly, then back at the activists, as panic slowly dawned on him. “Wait, wait, maybe we can- mmph!” 

The lead F.A.T.S. activist had shovelled in the rest of the potatoes au gratin into the mountain lion’s open maw. “Don’t worry, Mr. Snagglepuss! We won’t leave your side until you’re the biggest pink mountain lion in the world. You’ll have the best hibernation ever!” He began barking orders over his shoulder. “Hey, Steve! Get me at least a dozen burgers, stat! It’s an emergency!”

Snagglepuss’ eyes boggled as he choked down the potatoes. “D-did you just say biggest mountain lion- mmph!”
There went the rest of the porterhouse. “In the world! You can count on F.A.T.S, Mr. Snagglepuss! We’ll stay with you all the way into the new year, to make sure you gain every pound you need to survive the cruel winter!”

The first day of Spring came after five of the most overly indulgent months of Snagglepuss’ life. F.A.T.S. had stayed true to their word and made sure every need was cared for, real or imaginary. It was an extremely comfortable lifestyle, and by Christmas, the increasingly obese feline came around to their way of doing things. The mountains of food moved for him were a small price to pay, he reasoned, to keep having this small army of misguided activists tending to his every whim. None of them really seemed to remember that the mountain lion should have been asleep starting in late October, but eventually Snagglepuss convinced them that he was a light sleeper, and maybe an extra dozen donuts or so would finally get him slumbering. 

Now that the snow had melted, the world’s fattest wild cat was used to a very specific routine; around New Year’s, he couldn’t even fit in his cave anymore, but with F.A.T.S. pampering him, he hardly noticed. His oceanic gut billowed out to the size of a boulder, spilling over blubbery legs that were no closer to supporting his weight than he was to touching his toes. He was like a mountain of cotton candy; a brilliant pink blob that would quiver at the slightest touch. His folds of back fat pressed up against the wall of his former home as he lounged luxuriantly in the sun, warming every flabby inch of his immense body. Snagglepuss was finally living the life he thought he was suited for; he licked his lips over chipmunk cheeks, sending his multiple jowls wobbling against his long-suffering collar as he eyed his latest treat. His arms, swaddled in fat, jiggled as he raised a cupcake up to his lips and popped it into his greedy mouth. 

“Mm!” He chewed, savoring the flavor before shifting his titanic weight into a more comfortable position, as tremors of fat wobbled down oversized love-handles. “I feel like all my problems exited stage left… why, I’m a real apex predator now! I’m just smart enough to have others do the hunting for me.”