Cat Goes Flying whilst I think Worms
Meanwhile, Cat, who had ricocheted off the first wall into another before using his thrusters to brake, stood before me with all 4 legs splayed to steady himself. He shook his head in an effort to get his rubberised face back into a more acceptable shape. His first words to me sounded a little like the gibberish I now spoke so I wondered whether the blow had done something to his internal circuitry.
“SHUSHHAFFASHHA WII PUFFI AS HIC,” he spluttered before recovering his composure, looking up at me and saying very clearly,
“Even if you applied to a learning space for amoebae you still wouldn’t pass the entrance thoughts would you, you,….. you sub-sub quarkic particle brain!!”
“Look I really am sorry,” I said. “I honestly didn’t do that on purpose. I really want to get out of wherever we are and get my bits back you know.”
“Well, slapping me across the room absolutely isn’t going to help is it?” Cat harumphed before continuing with, “fortunately for you I had worked out pretty much all that I can before you whopped me with your ruddy appendage.”
“Right. Good,” I said. “So when and how do I get my willy back?”
“I have no idea,” Cat said rather sardonically, “surprisingly your missing penis has not been top of my list of priorities.”
“Well what in the ‘Meteorites of Mericles’ have been your priorities then?” I asked somewhat testily.
“Well for one thing working out, or trying to work out, exactly where we are,” responded Cat.
“And?…” I enquired from the very edge of my uncertainty.
“Right,” said Cat, “as far as I can tell we are approximately 72.7798 light years away from the hole.”
Now, I had never been terribly good at converting light years into a distance unit that made sense, like miles or metres or atamites. However even my limited arithmetical capabilities knew that 70 odd lights was a lot of any of those. We’d come a very long way in not a lot of time. How was this possible? I’d heard of worm holes of course, who hadn’t? Of course I had no idea how they worked but could we be in one I wondered? Cat must know I thought so I asked him, thinking how much him being able to tell me would stroke his monstrous ego. I didn’t care though, I needed to know for obvious reasons.
“Cat,” I said, are we in a worm hole?”
To be continued……
Controlling my tail…..not
“Indeed it would,” responded Cat, “and so glad to see and hear that you are finally able to look at this situation somewhat rationally. Now, please try to stay quiet and still. I need to think.”
I tried to do as I was told as I knew that Cat was my best chance to get out of this. He floated down to the floor of whatever space we were in and sat first on his rear legs, before stretching out his front paws as he slowly lowered his upper body to floor level. Shortly afterwards he lowered his head until his chin rested on his front paws. It was almost as if he was going to sleep only his eyes didn’t close. He lay there motionless. I knew that he was setting in to deep thinking mode. His eyes, which remained wide open, flashed alternately blue and green. He was obviously computing and was not be disturbed.
It was most unfortunate therefore, that as I slowly shuffled the feet of my now somewhat ‘bottom heavy’ body, I momentarily forgot about my new appendage. Despite the quiet slowness of my turn the whiplash from my tail was enough to sweep Cat from his thinking position on the floor and fling him across the space we were contained in. The ‘murkiness’ of our surroundings had made me wonder whether the space we were in was actually contained. Now I knew, as about 5 metres to my left Cat’s rapidly accelerating body ‘splatted’ against what I presumed was some sort of wall.
“Oops. Really sorry about that Cat. Really sorry. I know you wanted peace to process and I was trying to be very quiet but I’m still not used to this tail of mine.”
‘My God, ‘My tail!!’ I’m taking ownership’ I thought. This is getting serious!!!
To be continued………..
Calm, I must be Calm
I then realised that this distracting discussion was doing nothing really but exacerbate the fact that I was apparently morphing into the savage extra-terrestrial species that had, for some time now, been intent on dismembering me. Perversely, dismembering had sort of started without direct Mudlizard intervention with that bit of me I held most dear, for obvious reasons to any deep thinking male. Accordingly, I drew a line under the ‘willy debate’ I had been having with Cat and returned instead to a state of uncontrollable wailing.
At that, Cat hovered up close to my face and having reared up onto his hind legs, proceeded to slap me repeatedly with his front paws in an attempt to calm me. This worked quite well as, although made of Rubanon, his paws were ‘well hard’ and the slapping hurt quite a lot. I raised my rear end and swished my newly acquired tailup and sideways in his direction in an attempt to swat him away and stop the beating I was receiving. I managed to get the desired result, though my swipe actually failed to make contact with him as he moved up and away to avoid my intended blow. Suddenly I was quite impressed with my tail. I could get used to using it as a counter to irritants like Cat. It was of course no substitute for a willy but nonetheless impressive in its flexibility and obvious strength.
At that moment, as I found myself instinctively using my new appendage as a Mudlizard would, to basically try and kill something, I suddenly became calmer. What else could I do? I spoke to Cat in my new language,
“OK Cat. I’m calmer now. I get where I am. Now tell me, how do I get out of this? I want my willy back, I want to speak the language we speak on Earth and I definitely want to stop thinking that I should dismember myself to claim the Mudlizard leadership’s bounty on me!! Which of course, if you think about it, would be impossible.”
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………
How had this Happened?
I leapt around 180 degrees. Well, leapt is probably not very accurate. I made a lumbering multi-step turn to face the other way, just in the vain hope that maybe the tail wasn’t really attached to me. To my horror though, as I turned, the tail went with me. It was mine. But how? I decided to speak again even if it came out as gibberish as I knew in my head what I was saying and clearly also, Cat could understand the gibberish. So I said or rather shouted,
“What in the shadows of Ralos is going on!!”
Cat responded, “I have no idea. I’m not sure where Ralos is to be honest so have very little chance of knowing what’s going on there.”
I glared at Cat as I responded, spitting out each word in a most elongated manner,
“I wasn’t referring to Ralos directly you artificial idiot. I meant what is going on with me. Why do I have a tail? Why am I apparently speaking fluent Mudlizard and drooling like a Tigron in a chicken coop?”
“Tigrons are vegan you human synaptic disaster. They would not wish to be anywhere near a chicken coop even if chicken coops still existed,” responded Cat.
“Don’t split hairs,” I said in an exasperated fashion,
“They wouldn’t eat hares either,” said Cat, trying to be helpful or so he claimed.
“I meant……, don’t quibble about my dribble,” I said.
“A poet now….” murmured Cast, clearly amused by my stringing quibble and dribble together.
At that I positively exploded. It was inevitable. Me, Earth’s foremost Intergalactic Tax Inspector, wanted ‘In Itemised Pieces’ by the Muzlizards, the scourge of the Universe, had somehow become part Mudlizard. It was ridciulous.
“This has to be some totally unfunny joke. This is something you’ve done isn’t it you creature from the laboratory for unfortunate experiments?” I raged at Cat, in what sounded in my ears as yet another string of the now standard incomprehensible gibberish that it appeared was all I could manage. As I raged, drool positively ‘tsunamied’ from between my lips engulfing Cat in some significant deluge of dribble. As a gentle purple spark ‘popped’ out from one of his now sodden ears, he vigorously shook himself and raged back with,
“Listen you moronic DNA defective, nucleotide base-pair short of a sensible gene sequence human,” which was followed by a deep breath and more vigorous shaking before he very loudly continued with,
“ I HAVE DONE NOTHING TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN. YOU ENTERED THE COMBATDROME AGAINST MY WISE COUNSEL. YOU FELL DOWN THE HOLE. IF YOU HAD STAYED PUT WHEN I SAID TO, THIS PROBABLY WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED!!!”
To be continued………