Trampy

Sitting atop a trashed car was Trampy, currently enjoying a freshly caught rat. The little rodent squirmed in his grasp, but to no avail. All it resulted in was for Trampy to tighten his grip on the creature. Having had one too many bottles of Black Pussy-brand scotch, he slowly swayed back and forth and soon came to let out a laugh in his drunken stupor, which succeeded a hic.

"Thiiiss wo- hic... won't huurt... at aaaaall... I promise tha- hic ... at we will be goooood friends...! Mnnnhh"

Trampy slurred out to the tiny mammal, unbothered that he addressed it like a friend, before bringing it up close to his mouth, gripping it with both paws. He opened his mouth wide open, exposing the few yet sharp teeth he had left, excluding that single buck tooth of his. Without any willingness to delay this snack further, Trampy bit down with full force. A metallic taste flooded his mouth, and his single eye widened in inebriated delight. Though he has gotten the taste, having eaten countless rodents before, the delicious flavours that came with each successful hunt always ended up surprising him anew. Still holding the now deceased rat in his paws, he began to chew as a few drops of the rodent's blood slid out of his mouth, only to dry up shortly after in his already grimy fur. He did so noisily, with the occasional soft crunch to be heard as his teeth tore through mammal bones. Then he squeezed the half of the rat still outside his mouth, allowing for the rat's remaining innards to slide onto his tongue and join the bloody mess already in his mouth. Normally, he would have enjoyed his snacks at a slower pace, eating them limb by limb, occasionally stopping halfway at a limb before fully chomping down on another. Yet he could not help himself. Nor was it usual for him to enjoy genuine live prey. Almost each and every day he lived on the massive junkyard he called home, he lived off of junk and deceased animals, and yet he would not want to have it any other way. Getting close to finishing the morsel he had caught even despite his drunkenness, Trampy first pushed the remaining half into his mouth, then slurped the tail up like a noodle, lifted his head up, and swallowed the contents inside his mouth in a single, massive gulp. He licked his teeth clean afterwards - or rather as much as he bothered to do such - before exhaling with content, curling up atop the rusty car. Purring deeply, he closed his eye, the alcohol slowly consuming his mind. From that point onwards, it only took mere seconds for Trampy to fall asleep. The life he just ended was quickly forgotten about in his drunken mind...

You just managed an arduous swim out of one of the many creep puddles scattered within this junkyard. Given the looks of those puddles, being purple and bubbling, you knew beforehand that it would have been wise to keep clear of these. Yet as fate would have it, you stepped into one by accident. None could have prepared you for what followed. First, you felt a sting wherever the purplish liquid touched your skin. It was unpleasant. Nothing had seemed to come after that stinging sensation, so you had thought, but then the world around you grew larger. You were shrinking! Rapidly so, too! Albeit there had been an attempt by you to step out, you slipped and fell directly into the puddle. With a splash, the purple liquid had you almost entirely covered, and the stinging only got worse whilst the rate at which you shrank accelerated. It all happened much faster than you had to respond to, and by the time the shrinking had ended, you had found yourself in the very centre of the puddle, floating atop of it. Swimming out had been anything but an easy task, given your new size of merely two centimetres. Nor did the stinging sensation stop as you swam. Yet, at last, you had managed to endure it, even if it left you both drenched in purple creep and rather exhausted. Looking around, you came to realise your helplessness; you were tiny in a place like this, in which it was unlikely for anyone to come to your aid. Truly quite the perilous situation, this is. A subtle metallic scent permeated the foul air unique to this junkyard, and from above, the sun shone down, unobscured by clouds...

Trampy, meanwhile, woke up from his nap not too distant from where you were to be found, and he groaned as he slowly got himself together, experiencing his probably worst hangover to date. He was unable to get himself on his paws, the headache being too severe, which eventually resulted in him slumping off the car he napped upon. A painful descent began for him, for the car was perched atop a decently large and equally high pile of scrap metal, wooden scrap, and other bulky waste. He hit the edge of a washing machine first, followed by the surface of a table missing a leg, and at last a rubber tyre, which bounced Trampy off the pile and sideways into the air. He entered freefall, the bounce of the tyre having his whole body falling a little towards the side, and in this state he remained for a few more seconds before finishing his descent with a rough landing as a 'thud' could be heard once he connected with the floor. From your perspective, the sound that landing produced was almost deafening, and the following gust of dust and tiny debris had you almost knocked onto your behind. Almost, that was.

Silently, clearly dazed, Trampy stood up, lifted his head and came to rest on his right knee. With a single half-lidded eye, he looked ahead, failing to notice you, even if you are in his field of view. With a groggy slowness, he opened and closed his mouth before rubbing his eye, the hangover taking its toll on Trampy despite the countless other times he endured such. It was only a few seconds after he lowered his arms that his eye shot up, as if he found something that caught his interest. It was not you who caught his attention, but rather another bottle of Black Pussy scotch lying nearby which you failed to notice up until now. Rapidly, almost desperately so, Trampy reached out with his right paw, and a shadow enveloped you as it approached. You thought he would grab you - but he did not. Rather, he grabbed the bottle, which was halfway submerged in the puddle, and pulled it out just before bringing its opening to his mouth. He clumsily stood up afterwards and chugged down the bottles' contents. Immediately he began to feel better as he took one noisy gulp after another, 'fresh' alcohol finding its way into his system. It was almost remarkable how fast this cat in front of you emptied the bottle without having bothered to check its contents beforehand, with how much urgency he downed each swig. Steadily Trampy was achieving emptying that bottle, lifting his head higher to not spare a single drop from escaping his gullet. When the final gulp came, almost silently so, Trampy licked his muzzle to enjoy the remaining taste left. Then a burp came out of the abyss of his mouth, taking him by surprise, and it was forceful enough to almost make the once again inebriated Trumpy fall onto his behind. Almost, that was. Tossing the empty bottle away once the burp had concluded, Trampy looked downwards with drunken contentedness, his smile wide as usual after a drink. It was in this moment that he finally noticed you, and with curiosity, he tilted his head to his left side, crouching downwards.

"Wh- hic... Whaaaarrr...? Whaaaaw isss...?"

Uncoordinated as he was, whilst crouching down, he reached his right paw towards you, for real this time, undoubtedly with the intent to get a hold of you. He did so, even if he could fall to any side at any time with how poorly he balanced himself. His words came out slurred and wet.

"C- Coooommmeeee 'eereeee, yaa lil'... hic..."