“I have been working on refining my Father’s work for some time and have concluded that he was almost correct in his proposals,” Cat began. He then continued after a short overly dramatic pause,
“It is very clear that worm holes can be used to move from place to place in the universe very rapidly though, as far as we know, no one has been able to do this in any fully controlled manner. However my Father was quite convinced that the Sequestran incursion on the moon in 2056 had something to do with worm holes. However he also detected during his experiments ‘quarklet’ energy bursts, previously never detected around any known worm holes. Based on the residual decay patterns of these energy bursts he was able to show some correlation between the disappearance of objects and people on the moon with peak quarklet energy levels. Unfortunate though he became too distracted by the Mudlizards to complete his work, which I picked up on about 2 years ago. My deliberations had led me to the point of submitting a collection of thoughts to the International Academy of Astroscience, postulating the existing of quark holes.”
Oh Saints of the Universe save me I thought. When Cat started to use words like ‘postulate’ I knew I was in for a long stream of ‘sciobabble’ as I liked to refer to it. I almost started to think it might be best just to forget about my Willy and begin to forge psycho-meaningful connections between my limbic brain and my new tail as quickly as possible. In an effort to head this to much postulation off, I said to be Cat,
“In the interests of getting us the heck outta here, wherever here actually is, do you think you could get to the point?”
I then quickly added as a cleverly disguised but largely disinterested afterthought,
“I mean it’s really terrific of course that you are publishing scientific thoughts , especially at your young age, and the astroscientific world will I know be thrilled by your latest publication but, what does a quickhole mean in practice my dear Cat?”
“Quarkhole you moron. Quarkhole.” replied Cat drily.
“Yes, yes of course. I meant Quarkhole,” I said, “but what has one of those got to do with my missing will and new tail?”
To be continued……..
The Work of Cat’s Father, ‘Cat’
Just as naturally, as I expected, Cat positively bristled with joy as he realised he now had the ‘explaining’ stage. He began his explanation in his usual superior manner, like the Head Avatar at a private school. Head up, tail up, whiskers flared and at absolutely maximum length, he postured as the best would, before speaking his first words on the matter.
“This is more than a worm hole. There is a scientific, astrophysicology theory actually first put forward by my Father, Cat.”
“Oh good grief,” I said, having had a horrible feeling ‘he’ would be somewhere in all of this.
“Please do tell me about Daddy’s theory,” I continued ever so sarcastically.
Cat immediately bristled some more, sweeping his whiskers even further back before spitting, “If you’re going to take that kind of supercilious attitude towards the pioneering work of my Father, I will stop with any explanation right now!!”
As Cat paused I thought to myself that my recollections of Cat’s Father’s experimental work were ones that usually involved me in stress, anguish, embarrassment and all too frequently pain, as he tried experimenting to prove one point or another. However, I also thought that strategically it would not be wise whilst in my current tailed and ‘willy-less’ state, to rile Cat with my opinion of his Dad’s scientific prowess. So I lied blatantly and as expertly as ever, saying,
“No, no, no. Not at all. My opinion of your Father’s scientific prowess is of the highest order. I don’t believe though he ever told me about any theory linked with worm holes. I expect he was being typically modest and didn’t want to take up my time with long explanations of sciences which of course I couldn’t possibly understand. He was so considerate in that respect.”
Oh my, talk about tacky treacle tattle to get your way. I was laying it on thicker than the average asteroid belt. But it worked, as I knew well it would from previous experience with the ‘ego’ of the Universe.
Cat duly responded, “Well ok then. I shall continue. But please do not interrupt.”
“Of course not,” I said as seriously as I could.
To be continued…….
It’s not just about Peeing
“Excuse me,” I said rather indignantly, “I hardly think a rubber binary number cruncher can be expected to understand the significance of that particular item of equipment to a man. It isn’t just about peeing. There are other things you know, simply about ‘being’. A man without his willy is like a hovercar without the autopilot. And,” I added, “will you please use the correct anatomical term. It’s willy, NOT penis. Saying ‘penis’ makes it sound so, so….’functional’.
“Oh my apologies,” said Cat rather sarcastically, “perish the thought that any part of you, or rather, an apparently former part of you, should be considered functional.”
This exchange, as annoying as it was, had distracted me from the fact that I now had a tail but no willy. To think, when I had left home to go to the police Skystation, all my bits were in order. Less than half a day later I was a phenotypic mess.
“What are we do to Cat?” I implored of my artificial companion, “what are we to do?” I repeated pitifully.
“Well,” said Cat, adopting a rather superior and greater tone, “what we mustn’t do is panic. We must stay calm whilst I process and calculate.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I responded in apparently perfect Mudlizard. “You haven’t lost your willy.”
“How could I?” responded Cat, “I don’t have one.”
“Exactly,” I said somewhat triumphantly, “You don’t have one. So how could you possibly understand the significance of the loss? I mean, how would you feeliof you lost an antenna for example?”
“Oh for goodness sake,” spat Cat, I’m not a 21st Century digital radio you know. I don’t have antennae!!”
“AHH but if you were you would realise how essential an antenna was to you functioning,” I responded.
Cat struck a kind of hovering ‘front paws on haunches’ pose as he looked down at me and spoke,
“Look, if I were a 21st Century digital radio I am sure that I would regret, if I happened to be a digital radio with a brain, losing my antenna. I agree with you there. For the proper functioning of such a device, my memory banks tell me that an antenna was quite important. However, those same memory banks, looking back through the annals of human anatomical history, do not afford the same level of essentiality to the penis for effective human function.”
“Well that’s just nonsense and it would seem obvious to me that the annals of human anatomical history must have been largely put together by people clueless as to the contribution of a Willy to one’s well being.”
To be continued………..
Where’s my Willy?
Suddenly, something seriously scary struck me. Where was my willy? In the fastest reflex reaction since Spaceman Steve outdrew the OuterSpace Oktopuss in the Black Hole Battle for the Brown Dwarf, what a great movie that was, I clutched fearfully with both hands between my legs. I then cried out loud as I realised there was nothing there and sank to my knees holding what felt like a very very very pre-pubescent lower abdomen. Sinking to my knees was not the best thing to do in the circumstances as I was now kneeling in what was apparently my own puddle of extremely pungent pee.
As my nose screwed up in horror, the obviously bad news about my willy rattled around the limbic part of my brain, or at least I presumed it was still my brain. The emotional shock manifested itself in what can only be described as a glass shattering, almost operatic howl.
As I screamed, Cat hovered much higher than usual and moved back away from me, whiskers flared. It was unusual for him to exhibit shock but he seemed genuinely surprised by the noise I managed to emit.
“What on Planet Pzzxamix was that noise? I’ve never heard anything like it,” cried Cat, “honestly, that was enough to waken the Dead of Dardalus 14. Was it really necessary?”
I tried to speak a reply but even in the gutteral Mudlizard gibberish language I was speaking it came out quite screechily as,
“I’ve lost my willy. I’ve lost my willy. You’re a robot Cat of indeterminate sex, if indeed robots have sex, I mean ‘a sex’. You simply wouldn’t understand how vitally important a willy can be to a chap.”
At least, that’s what I heard in my head. As I say it all came out of my mouth as Mudlizard gibberish and I have no idea if there was a word in Mudlizard for willy, especially as I had no idea if Mudlizards had such items of personal equipment. If they did it certainly wasn’t obvious to me, at this point, where it might be.
Anyway Cat seemed to get what I had screeched as he responded,
“I think a penis can hardly be considered to be an essential. At least not in the 23rd Century on Earth. Ask any gynaecologist and I feel sure they would agree with me.”
To be continued……….
Learning about Mudlizard Anatomy
“Well really!!” I responded indignantly, “I’m the one in distress you know and all you can do is tell me it’s all my own fault. Even if you didn’t get me in to this mess the least you can do is get me out of it.”
“I am working on it boss. Trust me, I’m not especially happy not knowing where I am either. And as for you, well you were frankly not much fun as a human. Part Mudlizard, you’re even less fun and definitely more disgusting.”
“What do you mean by that?” I enquired, before suddenly becoming aware of the fact that I needed to pee and telling Cat so.
“I don’t care where we are or what I am. I need to pee.”
“I think you are,” Said Cat.
“Are what?” I replied, furrowing my brow as I did so.
“Peeing,” said Cat.
“What?” I said as I realised two things. One, my urge to pee had receded and two, I was standing in a puddle.
“Oh my God,” I cried, “where’s that come from?”
“Well I’m no expert,” said Cat, but I think you’ll find that the equivalent of a Mudlizard’s penis, if there is actually such a thing, is at the anterior base of its tail. And it looks to me as though you’ve just used it…….”
To be continued………
Oh My God – I Do Have a Tail….
With that, Cat hovered directly ahead of me, about a metre away, before projecting reflective screens all around me. I looked at myself from all angles and was stunned to see strings of drool hanging from my mouth. Worse was to ‘dawn’ on me though. As I stared at my image I could see, emerging from above what used to be my backside , a tail. Instinctively I clenched my buttocks tightly together and to my intense horror I watched as the tail drew in, then up, before gently waving about. I just stared in the mirrors, stock still, somewhat oblivious to what was now a veritable flood of drool cascading down my front.
I tried to say ‘How?” but heard “Jroukh,” or something like that.
Cat responded, seeming to clearly understand ‘Jroukh’ and saying,
“I don’t know how exactly but you are now clearly part Mudlizard. Not only do you speak their language but you drool like they do. And, whilst you could pass off the dribbling and gibberish like sounds as simply a sudden escalation of what you do normally, the tail sticking out your rear end is, I’m afraid, much harder to normalise.”
As Cat finished talking my immobility ended as panic flowed from the relevant part of my brain through to all of the extremities of my body, including my new tail. ‘My new tail’ I screamed inside my head, ‘ MY NEW TAIL!!!!!’.
To be continued………
A Tall Tail……..
“What!! What!!” I retorted like a very grumpy parrot, “what are you going on about you blathering Jabbertwit.”
“I am not a a Jabbertwit you moronic a….” Cat failed to finish his sentence as all of a sudden he sailed through the air a good 20 metres at least, before bouncing several time like a flat stone ricocheting off the surface of a pond, before coming to a stop. This obviously unexpected ‘Cat flight’ had coincided with me turning around as sharply as I could manage, given the strange mobility problems I was having.
“What happened to you?” I said to Cat, “stop mucking around or did some mysterious force throw you across whatever space we’re in?”
By now Cat was back on all fours and approaching slowly. In a voice bristling with indignation he said,
“I was not kicked by any mysterious force. There is no mystery here. Your blasted tail imparted the force that sent me flying. You’re going to have to learn to control that thing whilst I work out what’s going on.”
“Huh? What do you mean tail you, you, you…. “ I struggled for a sufficiently abusive term to use to describe Cat finally settling on ending my sentence rather lamely with,
“That’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, if you don’t mind me saying,” said Cat.
“What are you on about?” I yelled.
“Well,” said Cat, “I know I have a tail but I’m a Cat. I’m supposed to have a tail. Humans are not supposed to have a tail. So I suggest that before you start calling me a ‘creature’ you take a good look back behind you and listen carefully to what’s coming out of your mouth.”
At that I froze, which wasn’t too difficult given the lumbering nature of my current movements. I looked over my right shoulder and forced my eyes downward as far as I could. I could see a metre or so of a slightly glistening and quite thick tail. It had a sharply pointed end. I then turned around clockwise as quickly as I could, which basically required about 7 steps sideways with my right foot, whilst my left foot followed with small forward stepping movements. As I looked behind and down once having completed the turn, I realised that the tail was still there, behind me. I blinked slowly and then Cat said,
“Looks to me like you’re getting it. Let me help the dawn spread further though across that barren desert that makes up your brain.”
To be continued……..