They finally arrived in the back parking lot of a small white shingled restaurant with an overhead red and green neon sign glowing with the words The Pepperoni Palace. Folksy music played within. Blossom couldn’t understand one lick of the words being sung but nonetheless she licked her chops at the smells wafting through the screened windows. Parmesan and garlic and Italian sausage. Yum.
“Wait here. I’ll let them know we’re out back. ” Wolf disappeared through a doggy door on the side. The three waited. Blossom drooled, remembering Lady and the Tramp or one of those Italian spaghetti DVDs anyway that Willow had in her collection. Next would come a short, fat Italian man wearing an oversized chef’s hat and white apron. He’d waddle out the back door and throw them kisses, saying, “Mama Mia.” And he’d be carrying an enormous platter of spaghetti, loaded with meatballs the size of Christmas ornaments.
The doggy door squealed as Wolf pranced out followed by the biggest, blackest, hairiest, ugliest cat Blossom had ever seen. The cat was so big he actually struggled to get out the doggy door and snarled in the process. Blossom thought she might upchuck a lung.
“This is Kit Capone,” said Wolf. “Kit Capone, these are the rookie campers.”
Kit Capone looked at Blossom and Riley, mildly interested. A long hairless scar ran down the side of his face. The kind of scar a cat could only get from fighting. Kit’s matted fur reeked of cigars and he chewed away on something balled up in his cheek. Something that crunched harshly, maybe mouse bones. He looked the sort that might eat a mouse whole.
No ‘Hi, how ya doing.’ Kit Capone gave the group a meaningful glare and said, “Follow me,” as he forced his way back through the doggy door. Blossom held her breath as his fat tummy made it across but left his butt, back legs and fat hairy tail for all the world to see. With a grunt, he pulled on through. The others followed, Blossom at the end. For one brief moment, she thought about turning tail and heading back to camp. But the thought of traipsing down the gravel road, by herself, in the dark, in the woods, was something only a brainless kitten would do.