Firepaw: Hi, I'm Firepaw the ThunderClan apprentice. What a beautiful day here at the ThunderClan camp for old stuffy fleabags!
Graypaw: Everyday is beautiful with you here, Firepaw! But...
Firepaw: But what, Graypaw?! What could be wrong?!
Graypaw: I've got a secret problem, Firepaw.
Graypaw: You don't even know what it is, Firepaw. It's ticks.
Firepaw: What in the name of StarClan?!
Graypaw: It's wild ticks.
Bluestar: Did somebody meow ticks?!
Graypaw: I meowed ticks. How did you know?
Bluestar: Firepaw, you need to help your Clanmate. Another spreading of ticks is the last thing Yellowfang and Cinderpaw need.
Firepaw: Ah, Cinderpaw....huh, what? Oh, okay, fine.
Bluestar: Now, since StarClan seems to magically send ticks down in his fur everytime his heart beats, you must venture over to the warriors' den and seek the help of Whitestorm, my little nephew who, like me, should be in the elders' den by now. He'll know what to do.
Graypaw: Oh, thank StarClan! (leaps into the air)
Firepaw: Don't do that! Let's go. (goes into the warriors' den with Graypaw) Ugh! It smells like crowfood!
Graypaw: What in the name of StarClan is that?
Firepaw: What? (sees a giant white furry lump)
Graypaw: It's a giant, white, furry...piece of moss! May I scratch my claws on it?
Firepaw: Yes, do as you wish, you sick kit. Wait, no! Look, it's moving!
Whitestorm (aka the big white furry lump): (wakes up and growls)
Graypaw: Hello, old Whitestorm, I need your help--(is cut off as Whitestorm turns around, his head hitting Graypaw, sending him into a pile of real moss)
Whitestorm: Oh, uh...
Firepaw: We've come for your parasite advice, Whitestorm.
Graypaw: (meow muffled by the moss) I've got wild ticks, Whitestorm, and I need your help.
Whitestorm: Oh, well, uh, let old Whitestorm take a little catnap...(begins to fall back to sleep)
Firepaw: You just took a catnap! (scratches Whitestorm) Get up, you fresh-kill-filled piece of crowfood! And yes, I know that made no sense!
Whitestorm: (gets up) Oh, well, alright, who...
Firepaw: Right here! (pulls Graypaw up from moss) Take a look! (pulls back of Graypaw's hair, showing ticks) Clans of little foxes have already bred in Graypaw's already filthy pelt.
Whitestorm: Oh, well, now, apprentices, listen here...(begins to sing the Tick Song):
If you want to take care of them wild ticks,
Old Whitestorm will give you the fix
Rub fresh-kill in your fur, it'll feel like goo,
Let it sit till sunhigh, then wash it in a pool
Then take some yarrow, rub it into your pelt
Then wipe it off with a Twoleg's belt
Spin in a circle, shout out, "Twix!"
Now you haven't got any....uh....ticks
Graypaw: Great song, Whitestorm! But Yellowfang's getting deathberries for Brokenstar, and Cinderpaw's too hyper to help me find yarrow.
Whitestorm: (yowls in despair)
Firepaw: Ah, sweet Cinderpaw....wait, what? Oh right....well, why don't we just wait for a forest fire and get some of it on his fur?
Whitestorm: Hmmm....there's another way to cure ticks. But you're not going to like it.
(a few moments later)
Graypaw: (hanging from a tree branch by his tail) Are you sure this is going to work, Whitestorm?
Whitestorm: Shut up! (swipes Graypaw with his paw, causing him to whimper, repeats this again) You're cured.
Graypaw: (still whimpering) Oh, thank you, Whitestorm. I feel as well as StarClan. It's as if the ticks never even....
Firepaw: (thinking while Graypaw is talking) With the power of Whitestorm's mighty paw, I can solve all my problems! (yowls aloud) Whitestorm!
Whitestorm: (whips around) What?
Firepaw: Your skills are needed elswhere! Follow me, and bring your muscles!
Whitestorm: I'm tired, Firepaw. Go do it yourself.
Firepaw: I'll leave a small pile of fresh-kill in your nest in the warriors' den, every day for a moon.
Whitestorm: (gasps) You've got yourself a deal, Firepaw!
Firepaw: Okay, follow me! (runs back to camp with Whitestorm)
Sandpaw: Oh, hello, Firepaw. Hello, Whitestorm.
Firepaw: Hello, she-cat Graypaw. (mutters to Whitestorm) Hit her, right now!
Whitestorm: (hits Sandpaw, knocking her down)
Firepaw: Yes! We've cured her ticks, Whitestorm. Good tom! (throws him a piece of fresh-kill, which gets stuck in his fur)
Whitestorm: Uh, thank you.
Firepaw: Come on! (runs off with Whitestorm following behind)
Tigerclaw: Firepaw, have you completed your battle training?
Firepaw: No! Hit!
Whitestorm: (hits Tigerclaw, knocking him down)
Firepaw: He's still got some ticks! Hit him again!
Whitestorm: (hits him again)
Firepaw: Fantastic! Incredible! Let's go! (runs off again)
Brokenstar: Ah, Firepaw, I've been waiting for you! Time to kill you!
Firepaw: No time to share tongues, Brokenstar! I've got to go. (walks past him with Whitestorm)
Brokenstar: But, but....(whimpers) Every time I try to kill Firepaw.....
Bluestar: Hello, Firepaw! Hello, Whitestorm! Have you killed your little Clanmate's mousebrained ticks yet?
Firepaw: You bet I did! Get her, Whitestorm!
Whitestorm: (hits Bluestar, but instead of knocking her over, it makes a clanking sound, and she doesn't flinch)
Bluestar: Oh, trying to take a swipe at the old leader's collar, ar you?
Firepaw: (gasps) Great StarClan! She's a kittypet!
Bluestar: Yes, it's true. I am a kittypet. An anti-StarClan kittypet.
The End! Or is it....
Graypaw: (still hanging on the branch, looking around with little interest)