The Chronicals of Alaraf

Muezza had a plan.

A brilliant plan.

A flawless plan.

A plan with absolutely no potential for catastrophic metaphysical consequences whatsoever.

He wanted to impress Calico.

Not with acrobatics (Calico had already stated bluntly: “You’re shaped like a mango. Stop trying to fly.”)

Not with hunting (Calico once caught a pigeon mid-flight using only a rusted cafeteria tray and pure spite).

Not with his security hat (which Calico kept stealing “for evidence”).

No.

Tonight, Muezza planned to impress Calico with something far more dramatic:

A Ritual of Cosmic Alignment
(That He Found in a Totally Trustworthy Totally Not Sihr SubReddit Probably Not Intended for Cats).

To his credit, he set up the scene meticulously:

– A chalk circle (actually Rice flour he stole from the dining hall).
– Six tealights (mango-scented, ‘because they were on sale’).
– A stack of academic journals (he assumed these added legitimacy).
– And a mysterious USB drive he found labeled “DO NOT TOUCH — SERIOUSLY — DON’T.”

Perfect.

Calico would be so proud.

He lit the last tealight, cleared his throat, and recited the line he’d practiced all afternoon:

“Oh Great Paws of the unseen!
Lend your mighty paw power to—!”

“WHAT,” Calico said behind him, in the tone of someone who already regretted asking. “ALLAH HAS NO PAWS!”

Muezza jumped five feet straight into the air, flipped, and didn’t blow out a single Mango-candle…but Calico did.— which was impressive, even in cat standards.


“Y-you’re early!” he squeaked.

Calico’s eyes scanned the scene:
the rice-flour circle, the candles, the journals, the ominously glowing USB drive.

A slow blink.

“…Muezza,” Calico said.
“That is not a WIRD.
That is how cults start.”

“It’s not a cult!” Muezza protested.
“It’s a demonstration of Sufic competency.”

“Do you even know what’s on that USB?”

“No,” admitted Muezza, “but it vibrated once, so I assumed it was sacred.”

Calico pinched the bridge of his nose with a paw — a gesture he had perfected only because of Muezza.

He opened his mouth to scold him—

And then the USB drive projected a beam of red light into the sky.

Both cats froze.

A low hum filled the alley.

Bird’s flock shifted unnaturally and started cawing from the feild.
A car alarm went off three blocks away.
The streetlights flickered.

“…Calico,” Muezza whispered.
“Did I summon ALLAH!?”

“No,” Calico said calmly, tail puffed to the size of a raccoon,
“You summoned followers. Discordians, even.  Good job.”

Calico’s tone did not sound very ‘Good Job,’ though.

To his horror, From the shadows, shapes began to appear—

Wide-eyed freshmen.
The Weird Philosophy Club.
Three exhausted graduate students holding notebooks.
A man who had definitely not slept since 2014.
Someone in a cape.
Two or more predatory squirrels.
A raccoon wearing a Burger King crown.

…and countless pure white and orange chickens & kittens sat quietly in straight rows, avoiding the other gathering oddities.

They formed a circle around Muezza, staring reverently.

A suspiciously orange student whispered,
“He’s doing It.
The prophecy.”

“No… that’s your dad.” sighed Calico, replying to one of Muezza’s countless progeny.

A Norweigan forest cat,  named Viking, murmured,
“Finally… leadership.”

Calico turned slowly to Muezza, the way a parent looks at a child holding lit matches near a gas leak.

“End it,” Calico said.

“I don’t know how!” squeaked Muezza.

“You started a cult—
Disband the cult.”

Muezza panicked.

He raised his paw dramatically and shouted:

“DISMISS!”  …which did not work.  They simply stared at him and started chanting back at him,

   “DISMISS!…DISMISS!… DISMISS!…DISMISS!…”

Well, fudge.  Thought Muezza

“No Fudge for you until you fix this.” replied Calico.

“WHO IS THE CAT SPEAKING TO OUR HOLY MANGO SO…SO… “

“…Like, he’s just talented, adorable, and not a demigod?  Ya’ll look dumb as heck.  I am ESPECIALLY looking at you, Discordia.”

“Thanks, Boss!” replied one of the raccoons, “We really worked hard to coordinate this”

The raccoons replaced their burger King crowns with their typical plastic pope-hats and pastafarian colanders.  SOME OF YOU ARE KEY MEMBERS!”

“…and it’s a Friday ” reminded raccoon #2

“Yes My Brothers, We Must KEEP IT HALAL!”

“Fine, beef hotdogs only…”

Then, the raccoons started chanting, “23 BEEF HOTDOGS FOR YOU AND ME, MAY THEY BE BUNLESS FOR THE GLUTEN-FREE”
To everyone’s astonishment — including Muezza’s own —
the red beam flickered, the air snapped, and the crowd dispersed like confused chickens who suddenly remembered homework.

“You good, Commander?”  asked a sleek black cat with a Spanish accent.

“Of course, Ysrafel. Psyop successful.  May Allah bless our Tariqah.”

Ysafel and Calico booped noses, then he herded the rest of the raccoons alongside a creepily quiet person in a Mothman costume.

Once alone, Calico stared at Muezza for a long, long time.

“…Muezza.”

“Yes?” he said, chest puffed with accidental pride.

“Never.
Ever.
Do that again.”

Muezza nodded solemnly.

Then asked:

“…But did I impress you?”

Calico sighed — not annoyed, not angry, but in that resigned, fond way only someone who secretly cares can sigh.

“Yes,” Calico said.
“Unfortunately.”

And because reward prevents relapse, he added:

“And for the love of God, come here.”

Muezza brightened instantly.

Calico head-butted him — lightly, sternly, meaningfully.

Muezza practically melted.

Behind them, unnoticed:

The USB drive blinked twice,
saved four new files,
and silently updated a folder titled:

“MUEZZA — POTENTIAL DISCORDIAN POPE.”

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

CHAPTER II — “Officer Reichhörnchen Files a Complaint”

(involving legalese, acorns, and an angry bobcat)

Officer-Chaplain Reichhörnchen approached the campus security office with a folder under one arm and a bobcat by his side.

The bobcat (Fylgia) was wearing a lanyard.

The lanyard said: “EMOTIONAL SUPPORT PREDATOR.”

Inside the office, three guards froze.

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Rob said neutrally.

Fylgia growled in agreement.

“Uh…Sir…can we help you?” one guard stammered.

“Yes,” Rob said. “I’m here to file a formal complaint.”

The bobcat placed a second folder on the desk.

The top page read:

> FORM 27B: REPORT OF UNSANCTIONED RITUAL-ASSISTED CAMPUS DISRUPTION
– filed by Fylgia, Bobcat (Rank: DISIR, Level 4)

The guard blinked.

“Is this…legally binding?”

“According to Campus Code §4.11,” Rob said, “…all animal complaints are binding if accompanied by claw marks.”

Fylgia demonstrated.

The paper now had claw marks.

“Let the record reflect,” Rob continued, “that my service animal and I were disrupted by:

1. A Mango-based impromptu cult,

2. Discordian raccoons conducting hotdog rituals,

3. Several students chanting ‘DISMISS,’

4. And an unidentified metaphysical laser in the sky.”

The guard swallowed.

“Sir…is this…related to the USB event?”

Rob stared.

Long.

Cold.

“Son,” he said, “EVERYTHING is related to the USB event.”

The bobcat nodded solemnly.

“And furthermore,” Rob added, “Calico stole my squirrel-patterned lunch bag again and my last bottle of organic catnip bugspray.”

This was added to the complaint.

The guard hesitated.

“Is…is there a desired remedy?” You note only now, the guard has a beautiful Spanish accent.

Rob leaned in.

“Yes.
Two things.”

He held up a finger.

“One: Remove all Mango-themed candles from campus.”

Second finger.

“Two: Do not let Muezza near electronics.”

Fylgia added a third claw-marked page reading:

> AND STOP THE RACCOONS. PLEASE.

The guard initialed the forms.

Rob saluted.

Fylgia saluted.

Both left.

The office remained in stunned silence.

“…¿Deberíamos presentar un informe de réplica? ” asked Guard Ysrafel.

Sraosha paced slowly from the corner of the room, hidden the entire time….until now:

“Non. L’opération psychologique est efficace. Nous utilisons la pratique Discordienne pour guérir les schismes, pas pour en créer de Nouveaux.”

… و هیچ یک از گوش دهندگان اصلاً آنها را نفهمیدند،  ausgenommen die Eingeweihten,  just as intended.

Ameen.