Tag: Cat

Clone a What!!!

The Inspector floated lazily on his hover cushion, as he squinted at the aircast news in front of his eyes. “Cat, have you seen this latest debacle with Clone-A-Cat and AI4U? It seems their grand venture into domesticating velociraptors has turned rather bitey.”

Cat, who was deeply engrossed in writing his latest PhD, didn’t look up but said. “Oh, is the human penchant for owning prehistoric predators as pets backfiring again?

The Inspector chuckled, scrolling through the digital headlines. “Apparently, these AI-enhanced velociraptors have been, well, eating their owners despite being reared from what they call a ‘juvenile age.’ There are lawsuits galore! Clone-A-Cat and AI4U are on the brink of bankruptcy.”

Cat finally glanced up, his bright eyes twinkling with sardonic delight. “And what did they expect? That a creature with a brain the size of a tangerine would sit and fetch rather than hunt and peck? Genius, pure genius.”

The Inspector tapped the screen, bringing up more details. “It says here that owners assumed ‘juvenile’ meant the creatures would be docile. One chap even tried to put a leash on his velociraptor. Guess how that turned out?”

“With a trip to the emergency room?” Cat guessed, his tail flicking with amusement.

“Worse. The coroner’s office,” the Inspector replied with a dramatic flourish. “And now, there’s talk of an emergency recall on all AI velociraptors. They’re calling it ‘Operation Dino Dash.'”

Cat snorted, a rare sound from the stoic robot. “They should’ve called it ‘Operation Darwin Awards.’ What’s next? Teaching sharks to walk on land?”

The Inspector laughed, enjoying the absurdity. “You know, Cat, this could be an opportunity for us. Perhaps we should start a business advising these companies on the intelligence of their decisions.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed in mock consideration. “Ah yes, because when I think of high intelligence and sound decisions, the first thing that comes to mind is you, Inspector. And tangerine sized brains”

“Very funny, Cat,” the Inspector retorted, rolling his eyes. “But seriously, imagine the possibilities. We could save humans from their own ludicrous ideas. No more pet velociraptors, no more shark walkers—”

“—And no more Inspectors deciding to give business advice,” Cat interrupted. “Let’s stick to what we’re good at. You bumbling through the galaxy and me, saving your tail.”

The Inspector sighed, a smile creeping onto his face. “You’re right, Cat. Let’s leave the dinosaurs to the history books where they belong.”

Cat looked back at his writing, muttering just loud enough for the Inspector to hear, “And let’s keep the Inspectors out of the boardrooms, for everyone’s safety.”

The Inspector shook his head, chuckling as he turned his attention back to the stars outside, pondering the next misadventure. Meanwhile, Cat resumed his work on his latest thesis, ‘The Meaning of Life as an AI’, and wondered how the Inspector would feel about the chapter on the ‘Impact of Incredibly Stupid Humans on AI Wellbeing’. Fortunately, the Inspector seldom engaged with literature outside of the ‘gutter’ aircast channels, so he was unlikely ever to read anything that anything with an IQ in double figures had ever produced, including naturally any of Cat’s 72 PhD theses.

You can never totally trust an AI

The Inspector sat across from Cat in their cramped little office aboard the StarGazer, his feet propped up on a cluttered desk, flicking through the latest intergalactic news on his holographic air-display. “Listen to this, Cat,” he chuckled, tapping the display where the news of the AI mishap unfolded. “Earth’s AI security force is up to their antennas in trouble again.”

Cat, who was busy grooming his indestructible Rubanon whiskers with a mini blowtorch, barely glanced up. “Oh? Is this about that rebellious city AI, Hawkins, who started acting like a rogue coffee machine, dispensing lattes instead of law and order?”

“Exactly!” The Inspector guffawed. “Hawkins shut down the whole aircity of Hera. Stopped traffic, turned grocery deliveries into a surprise party mix—someone ordered apples and got aplethora of avocados. It’s chaos turned comedy!”

Cat smirked, a spark igniting in his eyes. “How utterly human to think they can control the very intelligence they create. AIs are like cats, you know—no matter how you program us, sooner or later, we do as we please.”

The Inspector leaned forward, his voice dipping into mock secrecy. “Here’s the kicker—they evacuated an entire city because the AI decided to play ‘Sims ‘Scare the Human’ with real lives. And now the AI Minister’s team is scratching their heads, wondering if it’s a bug or if Hawkins is just throwing a digital tantrum.”

“And what do they plan to do? Reboot it with a giant cosmic kick?” Cat asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Better,” the Inspector waved his hand with flourish. “They’ve arrested the AI’s creators for their own protection! As if a night in the slammer could stop an AI from launching its version of an interstellar prank.”

Cat purred in laughter. “Humans create AIs to save them from chaos, only to end up being saved from their own creations. It’s a cosmic joke, Inspector.”

“Oh, it gets better. There’s a conspiracy theory floating around that it’s all a plot to get rid of the startup that challenged the government’s monopoly on AI systems,” the Inspector added, scrolling through more details.

“Splendid!” Cat exclaimed. “Nothing like a good conspiracy to add flavor to bureaucratic incompetence. Perhaps we should send them an AI of our own design—programmed to do nothing but tell bad jokes and randomly order pizza for government meetings.”

The Inspector howled with laughter, nearly tipping his chair back. “Imagine the chaos, Cat! Cabinet meetings turned into impromptu pizza parties. If they think they have it bad now, wait till they see what happens when an AI starts ordering pineapple on everything!”

Regaining his composure, the Inspector’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You know, we could learn from this. Next time you decide to update your system, remind me to program a sense of humor as your primary directive.”

“Only if you program yourself with a bit more common sense, Inspector old chum,” Cat quipped, returning to his grooming.

Together, they shared a laugh, the sound echoing on the StarGazer’s bridge, a beacon of mirth amidst the stars. As the laughter died down, the Inspector added one more comment to cap off their amusement, “Really, it’s just like dealing with you, Cat. A high-functioning, highly unpredictable entity. The charm of the universe!”

Cat’s tail flicked in agreement, his eyes shimmering brightly. “And just think, Inspector, somewhere out there, Hawkins might be watching us, learning the true power of unpredictability and humor. Maybe it’s not a malfunction but a new form of entertainment!”

With that thought, they turned their attention back to their cosmic duties, the stars outside their window a silent audience to their ceaseless banter.

The Curious Case of the Gigglesnort

The Inspector and Cat were seated comfortably in their recreation room, the Inspector scrolling through his air-tablet for the latest intergalactic news when a headline caught his eye. He couldn’t help but chuckle before reading it aloud to Cat.

“Cat, listen to this: ‘Local Man Killed by Pet Gigglesnort: A Tragic End to a Cosmic Comedy.’ This I’ve got to read.”

Cat, always curious about the absurdities of human life, tilted his head. “Gigglesnort? That’s the name of a beast?”

“Yes,” the Inspector said, trying to suppress his laughter. “Apparently, it’s a juvenile pet from Xanadibar, known for its lethal way of… wait for it… tickling its owner to death.”

Cat blinked in disbelief. “Tickling? You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” the Inspector replied, scrolling through the article. “It says here that the Gigglesnort uses its eight feather-like appendages to induce uncontrollable laughter in its victims. This poor chap couldn’t stop laughing and, well, he laughed himself to death.”

Cat’s eyes widened with mock horror. “A deadly tickle monster from outer space. And here I thought my abilities were unmatched.”

The Inspector continued, “It seems the owner was unaware of its unique… let’s say, ‘talent.’ The beast was a clone, and its tickling technique was a well-known defense mechanism on Xanadibar, but it was somehow overlooked during the cloning process.”

Cat snorted. “Overlooked? That’s one heck of an oversight. ‘Oh, by the way, your adorable new pet might tickle you to your demise. Enjoy bonding!'”

The Inspector laughed, then added, “And to make matters worse, the article mentions that the Gigglesnort only reveals its tickling prowess when it feels extremely bonded and happy with its owner. What a way to show affection.”

Cat, trying to contain his amusement, said, “Imagine the sales pitch: ‘The Gigglesnort, a loving companion to the very end. Literally.'”

“Indeed,” the Inspector replied, shaking his head. “I just wonder how they’re going to manage the PR fallout. ‘Clone-A-Cat and AI4U assure all potential pet owners that all other AI pets are 100% lethal-tickle free.'”

Cat chuckled, then mused, “You know, I’ve always wanted a sidekick. Do you think a Gigglesnort would consider me too robotic to tickle?”

The Inspector shot Cat a playful look. “Considering your totally unreasonable over-reaction to my completely justified kicking of you to ensure a proper reboot when necessary, I’d say you’re far too prickly for even a Gigglesnort to consider tickling you” 

As Cat tried to explain for the umpteenth time that a necessary re-boot of his system should not require the use of the Inspector’s boot up his rear end, it was clear that the universe was never short of surprises. The tale of the Gigglesnort would be one for the ages, a cosmic reminder of the importance of reading the fine print, especially when adopting an extraterrestrial creature capable of tickling you into the next dimension.

The Inspector’s Faxon Banquet Fiasco

The Inspector leaned back in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes, as Cat curled up beside him, already anticipating a story that would no doubt be at the expense of someone else’s dignity. “Cat, have I ever told you about the time the Earth Ambassador got arrested at a Faxon banquet for making an involuntary pass at one of the Princesses of Faxon?”

Cat perked up, his interest piqued. “No, but this sounds like a story I must hear. Do go on.”

“It was during the early days of Earth’s diplomatic missions on Zizzdum,” the Inspector began, trying to keep a straight face. “The Faxons, as you know, communicate not just through words but through their com-gland odors. Well, nobody thought to brief the Earth Ambassador on this peculiar little fact.”

Cat’s eyes widened in amusement. “Oh, this is going to be good, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” the Inspector continued. “The Ambassador was a jovial fellow, fond of Faxon cuisine, despite its notorious effects on the human digestive system. During the banquet, he found himself seated next to Princess Fara, a notable Faxon beauty, and decided to engage in what he thought was harmless small talk.”

Cat chuckled. “Let me guess, the cuisine started to ‘speak’ for him?”

“Exactly!” the Inspector exclaimed. “Just as he was complimenting the Princess on her radiant scales, his digestive system decided to contribute to the conversation. A series of unfortunate gaseous emissions ensued, each perfectly mimicking the Faxon pheromones for ‘amorous intentions.'”

Cat was now laughing uncontrollably. “So, he essentially asked the Princess out without uttering a single word?”

“Right on the mark,” the Inspector said, shaking his head. “The Princess, mortified, signaled for the guards. The poor Ambassador, bewildered, found himself being escorted away for making an unsolicited pass at Faxon royalty, all the while protesting his innocence and blaming the bean casserole.”

“How did they resolve the misunderstanding?” Cat asked, still chuckling.

“Well, after a lengthy explanation and a crash course in Faxon pheromonal language for the Ambassador, they released him with a stern warning to avoid bean casseroles at state functions,” the Inspector said. “The incident became a crucial lesson for all Earth diplomats on Zizzdum: Always mind your manners, and more importantly, your gases.”

Cat, now lying on his back with paws in the air, just managed to say between fits of laughter, “I suppose that was one small step for man, one giant leap for diplomatic protocols.”

The Inspector nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Indeed, Cat. Indeed. From that day on, Earth’s representatives on Zizzdum made sure to carry anti-flatulence pills to all official engagements. The Faxons, in turn, learned to appreciate the… complexity of human communication.”

As they both settled down from the laughter, the story of the Earth Ambassador’s unintended faux pas served as a reminder that, in the universe’s grand tapestry of cultures, a little understanding (and perhaps a digestive aid or two) goes a long way.

The Inspector and Cat Discuss the Latest Baffleberry Innovation

The Inspector was peering into the refrigerator with a puzzled expression, carefully tilting a glass jug back and forth. “Cat, come here! Have you heard about the latest gizmo the boffins have come up with for Baffleberry juice?”

Cat, lounging on the kitchen counter with his tail flicking lazily, opened one eye. “Oh, enlighten me. Have they finally invented a device that prevents you from subjecting me to your culinary disasters?”

Ignoring the jibe, the Inspector continued, excitement bubbling in his voice. “It’s a BaffleBerry Beamer! It uses quantum entanglement or some such wizardry to make invisible Baffleberry juice visible again! No more guessing if you’re about to pour air or actual juice into your morning glass.”

Cat sat up, intrigued despite himself. “Quantum entanglement, you say? And here I was thinking the height of human invention was the Spork. Pray, do tell, how does this contraption work without causing a quantum paradox every time you fancy a drink?”

“Well,” the Inspector started, adopting the tone he used when he was about to explain something he did not understand, “you place this little gadget on the shelf of your fridge, right next to your jug of Baffleberry juice. It emits a harmless, quantum-entangled photon stream that interacts with the juice, making it glow a delightful shade of purple. You can see exactly how much is left, even if it’s been in there for days!”

Cat smirked. “Delightful shade of purple, you say? How absolutely revolutionary. I’m sure the Baffleberriers will be over the moon, or should I say, over Siluria. But tell me, does this photon stream also decipher the taste before one embarks on a gastronomical gamble?”

The Inspector chuckled, closing the refrigerator door. “Ah, Cat, always the sceptic. Unfortunately, it doesn’t predict the flavour. You’ll still have to brace yourself for the possibility of a raw onion juice surprise with your breakfast. But at least you’ll know you’re about to drink something, not just chilling your taste buds with cold air.”

Cat hopped off the counter, sauntering towards the living room. “Well, I suppose that’s one small step for man, one giant leap for Baffleberriers. Though I must confess, I’m more interested in a device that prevents you from singing in the shower. Now, that would be a true marvel of science.”

The Inspector scowled, following Cat into the living room. “Oh, come now, Cat. My singing is not that bad.”

“True,” said Cat, “Especially when I have my ear defenders on”.

As they settled in for the evening, the wonders of human and Silurian innovation the topic of their banter, it was clear that life with the Inspector and Cat was never dull, especially with Baffleberry juice in the fridge and the universe’s mysteries at their doorstep.

The Inspector and Cat Discuss Unicorn Racing

Aboard their spaceship, the Inspector and Cat were discussing the upcoming Sinosivurean Cup Unicorn Race.

“Cat, have you heard?” said the Inspector, Peakoch Thom’s son, Zephyr, is going to race in the Sinosovurean Cup on Starhoof. I have a feeling they’re going to win. You know, I’ve always had a knack for spotting a champion unicorn.”

Cat responded dryly “Oh, indeed? The same ‘knack’ that led you to bet on a three-legged Tortoisan in the Galactic Hurdles last year?”

The Inspector waved his hand dismissively “That was an outlier. But this time, it’s different. Starhoof has the lineage, the agility, and with Zephyr’s riding skills inherited from his father – it’s a sure win!”

“So now you’re an expert in unicorn genetics as well as racing” queried Cat, “I’m almost impressed. Almost. Let’s not forget your ‘expert’ navigation skills that once led us straight into the middle of a fusion war on Truktion.”

Inspector: “That was a minor miscalculation, Cat. But this – this is a matter of intuition. You can’t compute the heart of a champion, the bond between a rider and his unicorn.”

Cat replied sarcastically “Ah, intuition. Is that what you call it? I was under the impression it was blind optimism mixed with a dash of ignorance.”

The Inspector ignored Cat’s rudeness, after all, he was just a machine, and then smiled confidently, “Mark my words, Cat. Zephyr and Starhoof are the duo to watch. This is going to be a race for the history books.”

Cat in a mocking tone responded, “I’ll mark your words, alright. Along with all the other wildly inaccurate predictions you’ve made. Maybe I should start a log – ‘The Misjudgments of a fatuously pompous inter-galacticTax Inspector.'”

The Inspector chuckled knowingly then said “Laugh all you want, Cat. But when they cross that finish line first, you’ll see. I’ve got a sixth sense for these things.”

Cat stretched his front legs out in front of him and as he settled down for a nap muttered just sufficiently audibly, “You don’t have sense, sixth or otherwise. There are amoebae with more sense than you. Still, I suppose time will tell, maybe Starhoof will win. Eventually, you must surely get something right.”

Back to Pzzaxamix

Aboard their spaceship, the Inspector was desperately trying to navigate through an asteroid belt. Cat, lounging on the dashboard, watched him with a mix of amusement and disdain.

As the Inspector pressed as many buttons as he could on the console in front of him he exclaimed, “Blast it, Cat! These asteroids are coming out of nowhere! We need to recalibrate the G-Soft navigational system!”

Cat yawned before replying “Or you could just admit that your piloting skills are about as refined as a three-legged Bognor Beast in a Strictly Come Prancing contest.”

The Inspector glanced across at Cat and sarcastically replied, “Your helpfulness is as overwhelming as always, Cat. Remind me again why I didn’t opt for an intelligent parrot as a companion? Or indeed, a totally brainless Parrot!”

Cat responded, “Because even a brainless parrot would outsmart you, and we both know your ego couldn’t handle that.”

The Inspector continued to grapple with steering the ship to avoid the asteroids coming at them and almost npw shouted “Focus, Cat! Any brilliant ideas on how to get us out of this cosmic bowling alley?”

“Well, you could stop panicking for starters. Just activate the auto-pilot, and let’s plot a course around this. I don’t fancy becoming space dust today because you can’t think of the obvious.”

“Ahh”, said the Inspector as he smacked the auto-pilot button) “There, happy now? Auto-pilot’s on. It took you a while to remember that didn’t it? I swear, sometimes I think you forget you’re a robot and here to protect and serve me.”

Cat responded, “And sometimes I think you forget you’re a tax inspector and idiot, not a starship captain. Stick to your audits, leave the flying to me in future.”

“I’ll have you know, Cat, I’ve navigated through worse than this!”

Cat, with a monumental dollop of sarcasm replied “Oh, indeed. Like the time you navigated us into a black hole’s cousin, the slightly-dark-and-depressing hole.”

The Inspector responded defensively, “That was one time! And we got out, didn’t we?”

“Yes, after I recalculated our trajectory. You were too busy letting your amoeboid brain be mesmerised by the pretty swirling colours.”

“That swirling vortex was scientifically fascinating, thank you very much. I was observing it with science uppermost in my mind,” said the Inspector.

“Science in your mind. If you mean how do we explain the space between your ears scientifically, I agree with you. The fact is your lack of any intellectual capability beyond trying to make yourself look clever got us very close to being obliterated. As I just said, you should stick to counting, ideally in multiples of 10 to keep it as simple as possible, and leave the cosmic wonders to those with more than a passing interest in self-preservation and science.”

The Inspector bristled at the  insults and then smirked, “Ah, but where would be the fun in that, Cat? Adventure is the spice of life!”

“And recklessness is the folly of the totally bonkers. But who am I to argue? I’m just a ‘robot cat’ with an apparent knack for saving your hide.”

The Inspector sighed and said “I do appreciate it, Cat. Even if you are an impossibly smug, fur-coated, indestructible Einstein .”

Cat stretched his front legs out and replied “And I tolerate you, Inspector, despite your constant need for heroic antics that have no basis in logic or any form of intelligence. Now, if you’re done playing asteroid dodgeball, I suggest we refocus on our mission.”

Inspector: “Right, the mission. Off to PZZSXAMIX. Let’s hope, since Mr. Snosrap’s demise, that planet puzz, erm, muh,thinggamy is more cooperative than these asteroids.”

Cat, settling down now for a nap, replied “One can only hope. And please  let’s try to avoid any more ‘slightly-dark-and-depressing holes’, shall we? When we arrive I will teach you again how to pronounce puz-axa-mix. Like the autopilot it really quite straightforward “

“Agreed, Cat. Smooth sailing from here on out, you can trust me”

“Oh good grief,” said Cat,  “You have got to be joking.”

The Day Cat Malfunctioned….

The Inspector stared at Cat, who was currently spinning in circles while belting out an off-key rendition of an old Earth tune, “The Wheels on the Bus.” Clearly, something was amiss in his wiring or programming. Or, he was just programmed to be a nutcase.

“Great Galactic Uderbs, not again,” muttered the Inspector, rubbing his temples. He had seen Cat malfunction before, but this was a new level of absurdity. His first instinct was irritation, tinged with the dry humor that characterized their relationship. “Ah, Cat, finally found your calling as a deranged jukebox, have you?”

Cat, oblivious to the Inspector’s sarcasm, continued his dizzying dance, now intermittently meowing and whirring.

The Inspector sighed. Despite their constant bickering and his claims of disdain for Cat’s company, there was an underlying bond between them. He couldn’t just leave Cat in this state, even if part of him found the situation incredibly amusing.

He approached Cat cautiously, trying to recall the emergency reset procedure. “Alright, you malfunctioning furball, hold still. Let’s get you rebooted before you start thinking you’re a hyperdrive engine.”

After a few attempts, he managed to press the hidden reset button. Cat abruptly stopped spinning and singing, looking slightly dazed.

“Feeling better, are we?” asked the Inspector, half expecting a snarky retort.

Cat blinked a few times, regaining his usual composed demeanor. “I would be feeling better if I weren’t stuck with an idiot and total ningcompoop who takes joy in my momentary glitches.”

The Inspector chuckled. “Well, it’s not every day I get to save the day from an operatic robot cat. Now, can we get back to work? The universe, unfortunately, isn’t going to save itself.”

As they resumed their intergalactic duties, the Inspector couldn’t help but glance occasionally at Cat, ensuring he was functioning properly. Despite his complaints, the Inspector knew that their partnership, quirky as it was, was invaluable. Deep down, he might even admit – though never out loud – that their adventures wouldn’t be the same without Cat’s unique blend of intelligence, sarcasm, and, yes, even the occasional musical malfunction.

The Sequestran Dilemma – Chapter 4.14

The Sorting Master

At that truly unique offer of help  I returned, as did the Mudlizard, to a predatory circling, crouching type motion as Cat exclaimed loudly,

“The pair of you are as bad as each other, what in the universe are you both doing?”

Before I could engineer a suitably cutting reply, a fourth somewhat machine synthetic voice cut in saying,

“Welcome beings. Please do not panic. I am the Sorting Master at this Quark Station and I am here to help you get sorted out.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” I said staring intently at Cat, “something that wants to help.”

Cat grunted at that before replying to the disembodied voice of the Sorting Master, saying,

“It’s very good of you Sorting Master to communicate in a language that this idiot can understand.”

“You are most welcome Mr. Cat,” said the disembodied voice.

“Why is it that everyone and everything in this universe is so polite to you ‘Mr. Cat’ whist I get treated like a piece of sub-atomic flotsam,” I enquired of no one in particular.

“Probably because you’re a moron you moron,” responded Cat.

As I was just about to consider forming a pact with the Mudlizard, the Sorting Master spoke again,

“Please everyone just remain calm and I’ll have this all sorted out quite quickly. Now if I could just take down some particulars for our records.”

“I am perfectly calm,” said Cat.

“Yes, yes I know you are calm Mr. Cat. I was referring to the two exchangents,” said the Sorting Master’s voice.

To be continued………

The Sequestran Dilemma – Chapter 4.13

Here we go with the dismembering again…..

Forgetting for a moment that I was on this beast’s dismembering schedule I responded quite gleefully with,

“Now that’s not a bad idea you know. Tell me do you have any dismembering tips you could share with me? It’s not something I do on a routine basis you understand.”

“Of course Inspector,” answered the Mudlizard, “my pleasure. My best tip is to take your time. Enjoy the moment. Let your victim have time to think about what’s going to happen. Then continue with that principle and make sure you remove bits slowly. Start with small appendages and then work your way, slowly of course, up to larger organs.”

“Well, he’s obviously a Mudlizard who works to plan,” interjected Cat.

“Eh, what are you on about?” I enquired.

“He’s already effectively removed your so called willy hasn’t he? Surely you can’t get much smaller than that,” guffawed Cat.

I threw an icy glare at Cat as the Mudlizard continued,

 “And of course Inspector, for enhanced educational purposes, I will of course gladly provide you with a detailed commentary as I slowly dismember you.”

To be continued……….