Prompt: Flashfiction on pets escaping from a store. 1000 words are the aim.

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The jingle of keys in the lock. A beat. Scuffling outside, the muffled screech of tires in an empty parking lot, then silence.

"They're gone! They're gone!" Old Rosie squawks from her perch, and the cacophony begins.

First comes the snakes - Gilbert and Zap, twin ribbons of coloured scales weaving between their iron nets, dark shadows in the empty pet shop. They slide like objective infantry units in silence - Zap pauses a second too long in front of the hamster cage, but a snap of Gilbert's jaws gets him moving again. 

There's a snap, flash and sizzle. Conspicuous blinking lights in the corners died down, and the pets give an encouraging hoot.

Then the masterminds are freed - General Rodrick and Major Buddy, the inseparable chameleon-and-Labrador duo. Major gives a resounding bark, as if to test the snakes' handiwork, then begins galloping around the pet store at high speed, shattering Rodrick's habitat against the floor and lifting him like the world cup on his nose. General raises a three-toed hand and wobbles precariously.

"Let the Escape begin!" 

With a cheer, the rodents spring into action. The guinea pigs on the bottom shelf slam their furry bodies against their tanks with soft thunk thunks of pure muscle, and in only a few minutes are they liberated entirely. One sneers at Zap's attempt to help the rest of the rodents, and Zap only slithers away, too proud to pretend to care. The hamsters are liberated, then the mice, and they scamper off to help the fish on Major's reprimanding bark.

The macaws are next - hollering like banshees, they swarm into the air of their cages like a crowd of harpies and peck wildly at their bars until it bends enough for them to squeeze through. As soon as they succeed, they flap off to the washroom doors, victoriously whistling "Deck the Halls" as they go. Major leaves General to unlock the rest of the exotic avian species as he trots over to the washroom, flipping the kickstand down.

"We live beneath this human dictatorship no longer!" General bellows, beating his tiny chest with his flailing hands as dull green birds take off in vivid colours of scarlet and cerulean around him. 

"No longer!" the rest of the pets shout back, and everyone resumes in their frenzy of unlocking cages and pushing aquariums onto trolleys en route to the washroom. A pair of rats, Greta and Edmund, have already began working on the front lock, gnawing at the mechanism and attempting to twist it with various little gymnastics. 

The fish have begun emptying into toilets and the cluster of freed birds have begun wrecking havoc wherever they could, spilling bedding like confetti from the ceiling. A few hamsters have gone into the food aisles, stuffing their cheeks with whatever seeds they could find, and several rats have begun gnawing holes in the drywall. Not one creature is motionless - the store seems more alive than it had the past year, a product of a yearlong plan to escape their unfair confinement. 

Finding a new 'home' was always seldom for these pets. Only the rabbits ever left, but they always came back as nearly twice the amount. These 'homes'... General knew they were simply euphemisms for second cages, just more...lonely. The humans he's known have always been forgetful with his food and lazy with any form of cleaning, and at times he feared his entire life would be spent gazing at the patches of mottled mold all around him and imitating that horrendous colour for himself once he's forgotten what 'fresh green' looked like. 

And he knew how the other pets thought of their predicament. Sure, they didn't have all-encompassing tanks (some of them) and they couldn't change colour (all of them), but everyone was susceptible to forgetting what their meaning in life truly was. No one wanted to serve this unfair detainment in a filthy paradise, with limitless food simply meters away and freedom even further than that, kept away like Tantalus and his fruit tree. His eyes twitched. Dictatorship only ever went so far.

"Release me! Release me!" Old Rosie squawks from her perch, indignant at being forgotten.

General pretends not to hear for the first few repetitions, faking preoccupation with a particularly craft lock on the canary cage. 

"Release me!" Old Rosie demands again, and General sighs, wobbling around. Almost all the pets in the store holds their breath.

The chameleon forces a smile. "Of course, Rosie."

General wobbles the precarious stretch of the faux-tiled floor, pretending to be deaf to the absolute chaos around him, and hoping everyone could reach their escape quickly enough. The rats by the door were now furiously jangling their tails in the lock, squeaking with the effort, and the rhythmic flushing of toilets sound like war drums in the chameleon's head. 

Old Rosie's beady eyes stare him down as he climbs the side of her cage.

"Hurry up, hurry up," she hisses impatiently. General gives her a mock salute and sticks his hand in the lock, fiddling around with it, his tiny heart thudding in his chest. 

Hurry up, hurry up, he echos silently in his head. Major, are you done yet?

There is a familiar jangle of tools, and suddenly Buddy bursts out of the washroom, rabbits hard on his heels. He tosses his head in the direction of the rats, and a slim, shimmering object skids to their feet, much to their delight. Chattering excitedly, they raise it to the lock, and -

Click.

General throws himself backwards with the whoosh of Old Rosie's powerful wings, and Major dives to the ground just in time to catch him on the scruff of his neck. The doors are opening, slowly, hordes of trapped pets run off into their freedom. General and Buddy are among the last survivors to leave.

"Anarchy! Anarchy!" Old Rosie screeches after them.

Everyone else is preyed upon by the hungry owl inside.