StoryTellers’ Short Story Collection: Moral Short Story #1

storytellers-short-story-collection

StoryTellers’ Short Story Collection: Moral Short Stories

Jim becomes a war criminal in times of peace and decides to bring his friends down with him. 

#friendship goals

By: Pratibaa Prabhakaran

Sir Bartholomew Mittens III always knew he had a flame-wielding maniac as an owner, but dear gods he never knew the man could go this far. The gingerbread man above the calico cat was grinning maniacally. Screams echoed throughout the room. Pratibaa Pippinpadleoscolopolis looked mildly worried. Pantalones was currently a pant… hanging on a rack. 

“Jim, is this really the right idea?” asked Pratibaa. 

“Huh,” Jim turned around to look at his comrade. “I act irrationally without thinking rationally, love. Burning people alive is my specialty. For as long as you’ve known me, you ought to know that now.”

“But, Jim, this may be a bit too much,” whispered Pratibaa. 

“Hmm, speak louder, I can’t hear you over the screams of my little accomplishment here,” Jim proclaimed proudly pointing towards the burning man. Jim grabbed a container of gasoline and poured it on the man. 

“Jim you’ve used enough gasoline, a bit more gasoline isn’t going to change the way he dies,” sighed Pantalones.

“But it makes it more fun,” sighed Jim. Pratibaa looked ready to throw hands with the idiot. 

“My guy this is literally homicide. You are murdering a dude. This is a crime…”  said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III.

“Well I suppose…” began Pratibaa.

“Oh no, you’ve turned to the dark side…” said Pantalones. 

“Crimes are technically non-existent see…” began Pratibaa. 

“What the heck are you going on about…” began Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. 

“See, crimes are non-existent. It is an idea… the idea being that an action could be a crime. Someone in the far distant past said that certain actions should not be acted upon. That they are… what would most call it… bad. That crimes… are bad. Some ancient philosopher decided that killing, burning, and the destruction of a man’s physical form is a crime. But why should we trust the word of a crinkly old man who lived a few millennia ago. His ideas would not hold up in a modern world. We must shed the prejudices of my ancestors. This being one of them. The acts of crimes are an expression of free speech. It should hold up in this planet of Fairy Tale. A place of freedom and liberty. Committed a ‘crime’ should be allowed. Freedom of speech and action. Ideas should not rule over us.” 

Pratibaa had just finished her rant when the others were staring at her. The man on fire was still screaming. 

“So in essence” said Jim, with a maniacal grin. “Nothing is a crime if you are caught…”

Pratibaa shrugged. “Yeah basically I suppose.”

Jim laughed loudly, whooped in the air. Pantalones sighed, and Sir Bartholomew Mittens III simply stared. Jim ran up to his cat and lifted him in the air. He threw his hands backwards and than threw it forward, sending the cat flying. He stretched out all his paws and transformed into a mega buff cat. Pratibaa and Pantalones smiled softly. The poor man in the corner was still screaming in complete agony. 

“Sir Bartholomew Mittens III” said Jim in a mockingly British voice. The man acting as if he were royalty. “My good sir, I hope you are enamored by the events that have thus occurred.”

“You mean the burning of a government official alive ‘event’?” asked Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. “It’s interesting enough I suppose…” he gave the burning man another look. “How is he not dead yet? I almost feel bad for him.”

“Bad?!?!? Good gracious my dear muscular cat, this man came here looking for me. Apparently, the government was mad at me for burning the vice president of the entire country. I’m not even sure how no one noticed how I managed to fit an entire flamethrower under my shirt to the  vice president’s  speech. What was he talking about again? Children’s education right?” asked Jim. 

“How did you even fit an entire flamethrower under your shirt? I turn around for one moment and he had a machine the size of his entire body out and pointed to the vice president. His wife, I’m surprised, managed to jump away before she became pork ribs. Can’t say the same for her husband.” said Pantalones. “Jim you can’t turn someone into a crisp because you disagree with their political ideas.”

“Hey, he wanted to get rid of the free education program to increase military spending. Like who does that? Hey I hate kids, but even that’s messed up. Don’t mess with the little goblins.”

The other three were silent at this. The man on fire was still screaming. 

“Oh my gods, Jim has a conscience? A sense of morality?” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III in shock. 

“I’m a bad guy, not the evil guy, ok? I don’t mess with kids. I wouldn’t stoop that low.  I wait until they’re older than kaboom.. Fire” said Jim, a sparkle in his eyes. He made a sparkling motion with his hands. 

“Well anyhow. The vice president is dead, and the entire planet is on the verge of crumbles. We have no leader and so many different politicians are vying for power. The entire economy is in shambles. All because of the idiot in front of us.” Pratibaa pointed to Jim.

“Well now those who are corrupt have now been called out,” shrugged Jim. 

“Bruh ” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III, while flexing his muscles to the burning man. The man of course didn’t care about the cats giga chad figure. He was dying after all.

“Ok now I feel kind of bad,” said Pantalones. “Poor dude was just doing his job… and now he has been on fire for the past 30 minutes. What kind of fire did you use? Dear gods…”

“I don’t even know how he isn’t dead. Ha. What a loser. Even the gods said ‘suffer.’” Laughed Jim. 

“Ok so what do we do now? We are on the run because we just killed a dude… a very important dude at that. They will be looking for whoever murdered the man. I don’t think they know it was us yet. I highly doubt this man already told him.” said Pantalones.

“What makes you think that? I’m pretty sure spies are supposed to inform their superiors as they go about… spying.” said Pratibaa. “Wait, we can ask the dude. Jim, unlight the guy.” 

“But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy,” said Jim. A pout on his face. 

“JIM THE MAN HAS BEEN BURNING ALIVE FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR I THINK HE EARNED THE RIGHT TO GET UNLIT AND EITHER WAY WE NEED HIM TO TELL US IF HE SNITCHED ON US GIVE THE MAN SOME RESPECT FOR LASTING THIS LONG ANYWAY!

Pratibaa looked mad. Jim grumbled under his breath. Jim grabbed a bucket and held it to Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. “OK fine. Sir Bartholomew Mittens III please use this bucket and go get some water. Put your muscles to good use. We have to put the fire out.” Ordered Jim.

“Aight,” said the buff cat. He ducked his head as he exited the little hut they were hiding in. He came back within a minute with it filled to the brim with water from the nearby creek. Pratibaa took the bucket and threw its contents onto the man. 

He was immediately extinguished. He sat tied to his chair, catching his breath. Pratibaa walked up to him and put her foot on his thigh. He wailed due to the sudden weight on his burned leg. 

“What’s your name?” She questioned him. The man looked damn terrified under her gaze.

“Marcus… My name is Marcus.” He croaked out. 

“What an interesting name,” said Jim, crookedly smiling. Marcus yelped and tried to get away from him. He fell over in his chair. Sir Bartholomew Mittens III managed to catch him before he hit his head on the ground. 

“We simply have a few questions to ask you,” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. 

“Yeah-yeah,” gulped Marcus. “Yo-you can ask, I swear I will spill everything. Please don’t light me on fire again… Gods please.

The man broke down in terrified sobs. Pratibaa gave him a pitying look and gave Jim a death stare, who looked positively delighted.

“Who exactly is after us?” asked Sir Bartholomew Mittens III.

“The government,” croaked out the man.

“You idiot, we already know that,” hissed Pantalones.

“Oh,” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. “I forgot.” 

“Do they know it was us exactly? Or are they just looking for whoever killed the president of the country?” Asked Pratibaa.

“Only I know you did the heinous act… I swear upon my soul,” gushed the man. 

“Upon your soul eh?” Asked Pantalones… Pantalones the pant flew over to Marcus, and got right in his face. The man looked mortified. 

“Have you people sold your souls to the Devil?!?!” He exclaimed. “First a huge muscular cat and a flying pair of pants. Dear gods up above save me!”

“No god can hear you right now little boy. Its just you and me,” growled Jim menacingly as he licked his lips. 

The room went silent as the occupants looked at him.

“Ok damn, we don’t exist? I see how it is,” said Pratibaa. 

“Not cool Jim,” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. “I thought we were all family here.”

“What is this Olive Garden?” Asked Pantalones.

“Forget that, what are we going to do now? We have a man captive, and we are on the run. When a single man rules over an entire planet, how will we be able to get out of this icky situation?” 

“Run, we just run,” said Pratibaa. She walked over to Marcus, and threw him over her shoulder. This time, he said nothing and did not attempt to release himself from her grasp. She turned to look at her friends. 

“Come on,” she beckoned. 

“Do we have a destination in mind?” Asked Jim.

“Maybe into a forest somewhere, I don’t know. We just got to get away from the government.”

“Ok, but how will we avoid an entire planet, we can’t really leave the planet can we?” asked Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. 

“I guess that’s right.” 

“Ooooo this is like a reverse murder mystery situation. Instead of trying to find the murderer, we are the murderers trying to escape the government,” said Jim.

“That’s not a good thing Jim,” said Pantalones. 

“I say it’s my dream coming true finally, it’s wonderful!”

“No,” said Pratibaa. “Your dream is gonna make us international criminals. My life is boring but not that boring. I don’t want to be on the run for the rest of my life. I have dreams and aspirations too.”

“No the hell you don’t you lazy idiot.”

Pratibaa turned and stared at Jim who had just remarked that. She shrugged.

“On both accounts, you are not wrong. But let’s just keep going.” 

They left the hut they were just in, and walked deeper into the forest. They kept a vigilant eye out for any potential government officials.

“I vote to go to the central government building,” said Jim.

“Jim shut up before I body slam you,” said Pantalones.

“Getting body slammed by a pair of pants is nothing short of a threat for sure,” mocked Jim. 

“I’ll get Sir Bartholomew Mittens III to bulldoze you, you in?” Pantalones looked towards the big muscular cat. 

“Sure,” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III.

“Mittens love, turn back into a regular cat, you’re gonna gain attention. Something we very much do not want right now,” asked Pratibaa.

“OK,” said Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. In a flash of white light, he turned back into a small calico cat. He ran up to Pratibaa, and went up her right leg. He used his claws to grapple onto her leg. She winced.

“Too tight.”

“Right sorry,” Sir Bartholomew Mittens III slightly loosened her grip on her pants so that he was no longer stabbing her. 

For a bit more time, the group of five kept going, Marcus had long since fallen asleep on Pratibaa’s shoulders when they met their first opponent. 

“Stop right there,” the group turned around to see around 20 government officials on their track. 

“How did they find us?!” said Pantalones. 

“I have no idea,” said Jim as he yawned.

Pratibaa gasped. “This little idiot lied to us! They did know it was us!” She quickly adjusted her grip on Marcus and threw him down on the forest floor. He awoke, startled. 

“Huh, what, is it morning already?” 

“You liar! They did know it was us!” accused Pantalones.

“Well of course I did, crazy people like you can’t get away with the acts you’ve committed. You killed the vice president and you tried to burn me alive. Despicable!” Yelled Marcus. 

“Lousy man,” scoffed Jim. “I knew he was trouble, you lot should’ve let me melt him when I had the chance.”

Marcus got on his feet and ran behind the 20 military personnel. “Shoot them down corporal!”

“Yes sir,” said the corporal. “You heard the man boys, release the guns!” 

“Not on my watch!” Pratibaa kicked her leg out and up into the air. Sir Bartholomew Mittens III went flying into the air and transformed. The military looked stunned. 

“What in the name of the lords…” said one private. 

“What kind of cat is that thing!?” screamed another, he quickly dropped his gun and took off running into the woods. The other privates stood their ground. But all with an air of fear and hesitance.

“Hahahahaha, fear my power you damn mortals!” screeched Jim. “Kill them all! Kill them all my lovely murderous cat!”

“No, we are maiming them. We are not commiting murder,” said Pantalones as Sir Bartholomew Mittens III went flying towards the soldiers.

The soldiers screamed like little girls. They all dropped as the huge cat pounced on them. 

SMACK

Sir Bartholomew Mittens III, using his massive paws, gave them a good bop on the heads. Effectively sending them tumbling to the ground. As still as a rag doll. 

“What the heck is going on?!” wailed Marcus. The corporal looked stunned, watching his beloved men fall, one by one, to a calico cat. 

Soon, every last private was on the ground, dead to the world, but not yet in heaven because Sir Bartholomew Mittens III is a nice manly, muscular kitty. He is now like Jim. Murder is a big no no to him. He turned his attention to the last two men. His eyes glowing deep red, as if everyone were stuck in an anime. 

And slowly, he turned, and began walking towards him. His walk is strangely similar to GTA NPCS. 

“Yeah no thanks,” said the corporal. He turned and gave Marcus a salute, and noped the heck out of there. He ran as fast as his legs could take him. So deep into the forest, until Marcus could no longer see him.

“Where are you going?! You traitor. I will have your head for this insubordination!” screamed Marcus. He stopped screaming at the long-gone corporal when he felt a large figure behind. He turned around slowly to see the majestic bod of Sir Bartholomew Mittens III.

“Hehehe, hello there little kitty, let us talk this thou-”

SMACK

Marcus fell to the ground, with probably a serious concussion. 

“Dang, you should’ve killed him man.” huffed Jim in annoyance. He sat down grumbling. Pratibaa rolled her eyes and kicked him in the side. 

“What the hell was that for?!” He admonished. 

“We need to keep moving. They know where we are, and when that private and corporal get to wherever the other operatives are, there is no telling when back-up will arrive. We need to get moving.”

“Where to then, Madam, please tell me,” said Jim. 

Pratibaa shrugged. “I don’t know, you pick someplace.”

Jim sat and thought hard for a moment. “Let me think.” he crossed his arms, head down, eyes closed like in every cliche anime. Then his head popped up and he snapped his fingers in joy. 

“I know!” Let’s bomb the capitol building!” He exclaimed. 

“No,” said Pantalones, Sir Bartholomew Mittens III, and Pratibaa. 

“Yes!” said Jim, he jumped up and ran away. 

“Bruh no,” said Pratibaa. 

“Bruh yes apparently,” sighed Pantalones.

“Do we go after him?” Sir Bartholomew Mittens III asked. 

“Yeah,” said Pratibaa, she started jogging towards the man. 

They chased after him. Jim was far too fast for them to keep up. Homeboy Jim was speed. Very speed. 

 “How fast is this man?” Panted Pantalones. 

“Bro you are a pair of pants, how can you get tired?” questioned Sir Bartholomew Mittens III. 

And they ran for a long time. Only realizing their destination when they saw a marble building up ahead. 

“Oh dear gods, Jim wasn’t joking.” realized Pratibaa. 

They were unable to react when suddenly they saw a burst of flames hit the door of the capitol building. 

“Oh no, oh no, oh no.” said Pantalones. 

As they got closer they saw Jim holding his trusty, dusty, sussy flamethrower. He was screaming maniacally as the people around were running in terror. 

“Oh hell no, bro its 10 a.m.” groaned Pratibaa. They stood in front of their dear arsonist friend. Who was now successful in setting the Nation’s Top Government building, where the president and major policy makers worked, on fire. 

Somehow the fire managed to spread quickly. Engulfing half of the building within ten minutes. Whoever chose the material the building was made of, has done a disastrous job. And now the people inside were paying for it. 

People ran out of the building. Anyone wearing professional attire, such as suits, were immediately torched. 

“Is this man trying to kill all of these people?” Exclaimed Pantalones.

“Well not quite, I think he is aiming to maim. He does not have the focus to kill one person with fire. He was to light as many people up as possible. We should stop him,” said Pratibaa who shook her head in disappointment. She quickly ran up to Jim and straddled him in her arms. 

“Stop it you idiot, we are already wanted criminals. Do you really want us to get into even more trouble?” 

“They messed with us first! They deserve this!” Adamantly added Jim. 

“My guy, you shot and killed the president of this entire planet. Of course they have beef with you.” Sir Bartholomew Mittens III responded.

“Well then, they should have let it go!” 

“Well of course they weren’t going to.” 

“Pantalones you better shut the hell up.”

As the four were arguing, a man suddenly piped up.

“You… you fiend…” said the man, as he pointed his finger up at Jim shakily. 

“Yeah what?” Asked Jim. 

“You are that fire-maniac arsonist who killed the President!” Screamed the man. 

“I mean you are right, and who are you again?” Asked Jim. 

“Bruh, that’s the vice president… vice president of the entire planet/country.” Pratibaa slapped her face.

“Oh yeah, that bum…” said Jim with realization. 

The vice president looked astonished. “You, uneducated little cockroach. You are the lowest of the peasants. Disgusting, repulsive…”
“Why bro insulting the peasantry?” Asked Pratibaa.

“I don’t know,” responded Pantalones. Jim and Sir Bartholomew Mittens III simply shrugged. Jim then whipped up his flamethrower and blasted the guy in the face. 

“Jim my guy… chill the hell out.” Sighed Pantalones. 

“Chill out? Jim just whipped out a flamethrower and is setting someone on fire you dimwit!” Yelled Sir Bartholemew Mittens.

“Dude, stop it!” Yelled Pratibaa as she grabbed Jim’s arm and shoved it down. 

But at this point it was too late. The poor vice president was now crisp. Jim the arsonist went arsoning once more. And for the second time his friends were unable to stop him. 

People around them gasped in horror as they realized what had conspired. Jim looked beyond gleeful, while his three friends knew what the death of the vice president meant.

“Oh great, who is gonna lead the planet now?” Said Pratibaa in annoyance. 

“Hey, he insulted the peasantry class. That’s not so cash money of him,” retorted Jim. 

“We all know that’s not why you flamethrower him,” said Pantalones. 

Jim frowned, and chuckled. “You got me.”

“The country is gonna spiral into ruins,” said Sir Bartholemew Mittens. “They all know it.” Sir Bartholemew Mittens pointed to other policymakers, and citizens. Who were screaming. Some in horror, and others who were trying to get others to pay attention to them, were claiming to be the new leader. 

And how right the quartet was. The planet soon spiraled into ruins as multiple people claimed to be the new president. And once more, Jim and his gang decided to ruin everything. 

So the moral of the story is… don’t go around arsoning things and people, lest you bring an entire planet to its knees.

Table Of Contents

Members Page

Betrayal Scene Prompt

Advertisement Prompt

Thanksgiving Prompt

Jim the Arsonist Prompt

Pratibaa Moral Short Story

Elaine Moral Story

Christian Moral Story

Wizard and Dragon Tales

Everyone goes Wrong Prompt

Original Stories

<–Jim the Arsonist Prompt

Elaine Moral Story–>

Check out other stories:

The Reviver’s Passage Chapter I

Pokemon World War

Coal Mine

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