T.S. Eliot Sees Cats for the First Time

My nerves are bad to-night. What the hell is this? I see crowds of people walking round in a ring. Have those people glued fur to their heads? Oh, they’re dancers. That makes sense. What’s this you say? The dancers are supposed to be cats? What kind of cats? Jellicle cats? You mean like MY Jellicle cats? What the hell do you mean? What is that noise? Is that music? And why are these grown men prancing about to ugly music? This is not art. This is not a Jellicle cat. What the hell is that on their legs? It’s like they cut up jumpers and put them on their legs. That is NOT what Jellicle cats do. What’s that? Stop talking? The cats start singing soon? They sing? I do not think they will sing to me. Oh no, they are singing to me. Please, make it stop.

[Twenty minutes pass.]

So this is what the future is like? I am thankful for death. Wait. What are those words? Why are they saying MY WORDS in unison? Who allowed this? Valerie? My dear, Valerie. Why, Valerie? Why? I should have a wee chat about this. And my most superfluous work, too. I wrote these for my godchildren, this is not what—oh my good God. Why is this man gyrating around the stage. Is he supposed to be Elvis? That’s the Rum Tum Tugger? The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat, not a—what is that? Why is that woman motioning licking his crotch? And what is this music? That’s it, I’m leaving. I know I said I wanted to see my immortality, but this is not it. THIS is my immortality? People dancing like bloody idiots to my poetry? That is not it at all. That is not what I meant, at all. I am leaving.

What do you mean I can’t leave?

Please, let me leave.

Please.

This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends.

I grow old.

HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME.

Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.

Jellicle cats come out tonight… Jellicle cats come one, come all.

Make it stop.

The Jellicle moon is shining bright.

Make it stop.

Whimper.