The cat cooked its head disdainfully, and said in perfect English, "I loathe sloppy magic. Whoever transformed you into a Speedo did a lousy job. A properly transformed Speedo shouldn't make a sound."
"Yuh, cun un-duh-stund much? Wuh ya twunsfummed too?" Chad fluttered.
"Ahem. I will have you know that I am familiar, my natural form is feline, but with prodding, I can transform," answered the cat.
"Buh-no's a wisch?"
The cat laughed. Chatting with these stupid Speedo was more fun than toying with a mouse.
The cat lay down, and yawned. "Boo-no wishes he was a witch!" the cat said mocking Chad's wind powered speech impediment.
"Cun ya bwake much spull?" Chad pleaded.
"Can and will are two different things. An amateur ensorced you, so I probably can break the spell. But the question isn't whether I can or cannot, but rather why would I?"
"Ooh uh-kuh?" Chad asked after the cat rolled off the ledge.
Cooly composed the cat reappeared on the ledge, and said, "of course, I'm fine. Cats always land on their feet. Now if you really are Chad, then maybe I will be able to help, and you may be able to help me make a witch out of Bruno after all? His Aunt Sibyl didn't transform you did she? No, of course not, she would never do anything this amateurish. When a pro tries to look like an amateur, they leave signs, and no pro transformed you. So who did it?"
"Juhnneesacccuh," fluttered Chad as the breeze died down.
"Johnny Sako? Hm.." the cat stalked away vanishing in the shadows that had seemed too small to conceal a big black cat.
"Udd but ya fish?" Chad suggested.
"Well, I do prefer fresh fish. Bruno insists on feeding me the tinned variety," the cat sighed, and looked lost in thought.
"Fwush fish daywee," fluttered Chad.
"Sadly, I'm only a familiar. And there are rules. Generally, my owner has to benefit from any magic I initiate, or I'd transform my tinned meals into fresh fish myself. What can you do for my master Bruno?"
"Buhnuh nah wit-chuh?"
"Not yet. His god-bruja and aunt thinks Bruno could be a great witch if he applied himself to magic the way he does to swimming, or his straight blond football stud Chad. That's why she gave me to him."
"Buh um Chuhd," whined Chad.
"You're Chad? That Chad?" the cat asked nodding toward the now dark monitor screen.
"Yuss, duht Chu-ud," Chad fluttered.
The cat laughed hysterically rolling over on its back, and falling off the window sill.