The Mad Nine - A Short Story

They were called "The Mad Nine". No one knows how they got that title, and their real names were lost to history. So they were always called "The Mad Nine". On the rare occasion when they were separated, people would still refer to a single member by the collective title: "There goes the Mad Nine."

The public acts of the group members gave no hint to their name. "The Mad Nine" acted as calm and collected before the rest of the world as other respectable citizens, but behind closed doors, they sprang to life. Calamity and mayhem often ensued once "The Mad Nine" gathered together inside of the heavy oaken door which led to their chambers.

The crystal chandelier swayed violently as two of "The Mad Nine" clung to the fixture and swung. While drunkenly scaling the shelves of the bookcase, another of "The Mad Nine" upended a vase of fresh roses, spilling water and flowers over the black and white ivories of the grand piano below. Leaping onto the piano bench, two others of "The Mad Nine" fought to pick out a tune on the keys, but they failed in achieving anything melodic.

In the order of the room, the remaining four "Mad Nine" members watched in expectant silence, a conspiratorial glance flitting between them. One of these four brought the front page of the local newspaper to the other three in the corner. A quick glance of the headline elicited yells. This was a call to all in "The Mad Nine" who began to turn the newspaper into confetti. Bits of paper soared in the air. As the scraps rained down, they landed on heads and were quickly shaken off, as though "The Mad Nine" had been struck with hot coals on their heads.

Footsteps from down the corridor resulted in an immediate response. Nine heads popped up from their defiling of the newspaper to listen. Nine bodies raced to find someplace to hide. An open closet door and the balcony were the two most logical options with four of "The Mad Nine" huddling on the balcony and the remaining five crammed into the closet.

The heavy oaken door creaked open, and "The Mad Nine" held a collective breath. The mess made of the room could not be missed even by a blind man.

Suddenly a cry went up. "No! Look at this mess! Okay Mad Nine, get out here, now!"

The French window leading to the balcony and the closet door slowly opened in sync. The heads of "The Mad Nine" sheepishly peered out. With plaintive cries, nine kittens emerged from their hiding to meet the irritated glare of their owner in the oaken doorway.