Well, I call it Farting
I stared at the monster, leaning my upper body as far back from it as my, I mean its, tail would permit me. My eyes darted over the front of the Mudlizard’s body. Where was my willy I wondered? There was nothing obvious externally, though Mudlizards tended to have quite a lot of folds of flesh where their bellies were, so it could be hiding under one of them I thought. I mean mine did the same, especially if the weather was on the cool side and, when of course, it was actually attached to my body.
In a show of bravado I grabbed Cat, who had been hovering around the side of my head, and held him out in front of me. I then said to the Mudlizard,
“I warn you this Cat is armed and dangerous.”
I turned Cat around in my hands and pointed his rear end at the Mudlizard. After lifting his tail I said, “Ok Cat, fire on my command.”
“Ummmm…, Look boss I think the part transformation of your body is making you even more confused that usual. My Father, Cat, used to gaseously expel, and Mudlizards were indeed at one point very susceptible to the hydrogen sulphide in his expellations. However I am a new generation of artificial intelligences. I vent, I do not need to gaseously expel. And anyway, Mudlizards have gotten wise to that particular ‘weapon’ and now routinely take an antidote to protect themselves against hydrogen sulphide, wherever it comes from.”
“You mean fart,” I responded.
“I beg your pardon,” replied Cat in a somewhat offended tone.
“Fart,” I repeated, “your Father Cat used to fart continuously. It was probably the most useful thing he ever did generally, and certainly when we first encountered the Mudlizards.”
“Excuse me,” said Cat rather haughtily, still with his tail up and bottom pointed directly at the Mudlizard,
“my Father, Cat, did not fart. He was quite categorically clear about that. And anyway whether he did or didn’t doesn’t matter. As I just told you hydrogen sulphide has no impact on Mudlizards anymore. It’s useless as a weapon. So going on about it to cover up the fact that your lonely brain cell cannot work out the difference between me, Cat, and my Father, Cat, is a bit pointless. Why not just say ‘I’m really compromised brain neuron-wise and can’t process the fact that there have been two Cat’s in my life, neither of which ever actually farted!!” ended Cat rather too triumphantly for my liking.
To be continued…….
The Inspector and Cat 