Tag: cats

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 and Cat Discuss the Sinosovurean Situation

The Inspector and Cat were sitting in the cramped, yet oddly cozy interior of the Inspector’s interstellar vehicle, with Cat perched on the dashboard, meticulously cleaning his whiskers with a paw, while the Inspector fiddled with a holographic display showing an alarming rate of Sinosovurean population growth.

“Cat”, said the Inspector, “Have you seen the latest reports on the Sinosovurean expansion? They’re spreading faster than an AI virus in a Brainium coding camp”.

Cat responded,  “Indeed, I have. It seems Earth’s contraception techniques are about as effective as a screen door on a spaceship. What did they expect, handing out Earth-style contraceptives to a species for whom mating is as casual as a nod and as simple as a paw shake”?

“Precisely”, intoned the Inspector, “It’s like trying to use a net to stop sand. Earth’s methods are no match for Sovurean… ermmm, ahh…enthusiasm shallwe say. We might as well be using water pistols to fight a forest fire.

Cat chuckled as best one could when also purring and said, “I suppose humans have found the one scenario where “multiply and conquer” wasn’t a metaphor. And now, the universe is getting a lesson in Sinosovurean social etiquette”.

The Inspector responded, “The irony is, this whole debacle could have been avoided with a bit of cultural research. But no, we charged in, contraceptives blazing, assuming everyone reproduces at the same awkward, cumbersome pace as humans do”.

“Well, to be fair”, said Cat,  “Who could have predicted that a handshake equivalent for them would lead to such… prolific outcomes? Earth’s First Contact protocols clearly didn’t include a chapter on “When Handshakes Lead to Offspring.”

“Yes, It’s an oversight that’s turning the Milky Way into the Milky Nursery. We need a new approach, something that respects their culture but also gently suggests that not every greeting needs to be so… fruitful” replied the Inspector.

Cat, being as superiorly helpful as ever said, “Might I suggest a universal greeting protocol that involves a respectful nod from a safe, non-reproductive distance? Perhaps even a nice, sturdy pair of gloves for every human ambassador”?

The Inspector laughed and said, “Gloves might indeed be the key to the risks of galactic overpopulation. Who would ever have guessed the future of interstellar diplomacy would be decided by an accessory designed to keep our hands warm”?

“Indeed”, said Cat, “And maybe Earth can learn something from this. Next time, instead of contraceptives, they could try researching etiquette practices on newly discovered planets with a civilisation very different from ours on it.. Far less awkward for everyone involved”.

“An etiquette manual for the cosmos… I like it, Cat”, said the Inspector. “It’s decided then. I’ll propose it to the Galactic Council. “The Universal Guide to Polite and Non-Reproductive Greetings.It’ll be a bestseller”.

Cat responded, “Actually I have already proposed it to the Galactic Council. They are considering my detailed proposal as we speak”. 

“What, WHAT”, yelled the Inspector, “How dare you submit my idea!”

“Your idea? Your idea”, responded Cat rather sarcastically, “You have no ideas on anything other than how to steal my ideas and claim them for your own”.

“That’s absolutely so not true”, I have lots of good ideas.

“Give me a for instance”, said Cat.

“I refuse to engage in a pointless debate with a robot designed to serve me”, yelled the Inspector.

“I rest my case,” said Cat just before the Inspector grabbed him by his rubberised tail and explained a new idea he had just had about how long robot cats made of Rubanon could withstand the temperature in the ship’s waste incinerator.

The Inspector refreshes his memory and decides Cat needs to as well.

As the auto-pilot was busy avoiding fragments of space debris, the Inspector had been refreshing his memory of the stories that had appeared at the time of Peakoch Thom’s fall from grace. He sat in the pilot’s console reading the historical aircast in front of his eyes.

Shaking his head in disbelief he exclaimed, “Cat, do you remember this? Peakoch Thom, the unicorn jockey, banned for life – caught using a prosthetic horn on Thrust,  his thoroughbred unicorn.”

There was silence as Cat continued to slumber, curled up on his chair in the cockpit, a short distance from the Inspector.

The Inspector drank the remaining water in the titanium-coated water bottle and then idly threw it at Cat’s head from which it duly bounced off. He then repeated, though in a much-raised voice,  “PEAKOCH THOM, THE UNICORN JOCKEY, BANNED FOR LIFE – CAUGHT USING A PROSTHETIC HORN ON THRUST.”

Cat looked up from his nap and drily said  “I heard you the first time you moronic Splart,” before going on, ”A prosthetic horn in unicorn racing is actually quite ingenious. Unethical, but ingenious.”

The Inspector retorted acidically, “Ingenious? Cat, it’s cheating! He was a legend in the sport, a seven-time winner of the Sinosovurean Cup! Why would he risk his reputation like that?”

“Perhaps the same reason you once tried to deduct 10 years off your age during a Galactic Speed-Dating event. Vanity and the pursuit of glory often cloud better judgment,” replied Cat.

Somewhat huffily the Inspector responded, “That was different, and I was undercover! But this… this was a serious violation of the sport’s integrity. Unicorn racing has always been about the natural bond and skill between rider and creature.”

“Natural bond, yes, but let’s not romanticise it too much. It’s still a competitive sport. And where there’s competition, there’s always someone trying to bend the rules, as you know,” said Cat.

“Yes, but a prosthetic horn? That’s not just bending the rules, it’s… it’s…”

Cat interjected as the Inspector struggled to finish off his sentence, “It’s a desperate attempt to cling to past glory? I agree. Still, it’s quite fascinating from a robotic standpoint. The technology involved to pass so many pre-race checks must have been quite advanced, though obviously in the end, not advanced enough.”

The Inspector sighed and said, “I don’t think it was technology that caught them out. It was rather the fact that one of the other jockeys had to be transported to an emergency Sky-Hospital to have the horn surgically removed from his rear end. Either way, it’s just sad, Cat. Thrust was a champion, and now his legacy is tarnished. Not to mention Peacock Thom’s career ending so abruptly.”

“True,” said Cat, “But let this be a lesson about the perils of desperation and deceit. Even heroes, and idiots masquerading as heroes, can fall from grace when they let ambition override ethics.”

“Yes,” said the Inspector, “A hard lesson indeed. Well, at least we can rest assured that our adventures, while often perilous, are always on the right side of the law.”

Cat smirked and responded, “I think if Earth Central looked into some of your financial affairs the law may take a somewhat different view. But let’s not go there. Instead, can we focus on something more pressing? Such as why there’s a half-eaten sandwich floating in the zero-gravity compartment? Even in space, one must maintain some standards of cleanliness.”

The Inspector glanced across and opined “Ah, that. A minor oversight in my ongoing experiments with space-food preservation. I’ll take care of it.”

“Experiments?” queried Cat, “More like wild guesses on your part demonstrating supreme levels of incompetence if you ask me. You have absolutely no understanding of what it means to experiment. You have the scientific acumen of a gamete. You’re lucky I’m here to keep things in order, or this ship would be a floating scrap heap.”

The Inspector, who wasn’t entirely sure what a gamete was, responded, “I appreciate it, Cat. Just like I appreciate your keen insight on the PeaKoch Thom situation. You always bring a unique perspective, even if it’s a bit… prickly at times.”

Cat, settling back down to his slumbers, replied “Prickly, insightful, call it what you will. I’m just here to ensure we don’t end up as space debris or, worse, succumb to the follies of a human who got missed out on the assembly line at the point when sensible connections between the synapses in your brain were being made.”

“Well, your ‘insight’ keeps things interesting, that’s for sure,” said the Inspector who wasn’t entirely sure what a synapse was either. Now, let’s clean up this sandwich mess and plot our course. We’ve got work to do.”

Cat: “Indeed, we do. Just remember, no artificial enhancements, please. We do things the old-fashioned way – with wit, courage, and a dash of intergalactic ingenuity. With most of all three coming from me of course”

The Inspector smiled and said  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Cat,” before mumbling to himself, “Just wait until your next service is due you rubberised tin can”.

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……….

The Sequestran Dilemma – Chapter 2.4

The Story Starts to Unfold

At that, Cat’s guffawing became really really loud. By this time he had then settled in a casual laying pose on the surface of the bridge, near enough for me to place my right foot on his head. As I shifted all my weight to that foot his guffaws turned gradually into a ‘breathy’ kind squeaking. As his rubberised head slowly got flatter and wider, I continued my conversation, this time pleasantly unaccompanied by Cat’s chortling.

“Perhaps also Commander you could explain why some one as important as me is called out to look into a hole. I mean do you not have a municipal RepairDroid in this little Kingdom of yours?”

Finally, as Cat scrabbled with the claws of his back paws on the ground, whilst desperately trying to pull his head from beneath my foot, the Commander started to engage with me saying,

“Well it all started in the CombatDrome Inspector. Everything was just like a standard Saturday night. The Velociraptor duels had just started in the main ring, wild Tigersaurus’s were being broken in Main Ring 1 whilst Main Ring 2 was into a full blown re-enaction of the Battle for the Sea of Tranquility. Then, suddenly, nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?” I enquired as I lifted my foot from Cat’s head, bored as I was with the whistling noises he was now making.

“Here we go again,” said Cat, the instant his head started to expand to its usual shape, “trying to explain what ‘nothing’ means to a moron.”

I shaped to step on him some more but he’d backed off too far and then the Commander told us,

“Suddenly, there was no noise. All of our security monitors went off line and there was silence. I mean normally we can hear the noise from the CombatDrome through the video air, never mind through our monitors. But one minute everything was roaring, then the next there was nothing.”

“Huh,” I responded, “you see Cat, I am not the only one in the Universe who appreciates the simple concept of nothing!’”

“Simple is the key word here amoebiod,” intoned Cat.

I studiously ignored him and turned my eyes back to the Commander with the question,

“So then what Commander?” I inquired.

To be continued……

The Sequestran Dilemma – Chapter 2.3

Who’s in Charge Here?

Not too long after those words, I’d fallen down a very very very deep hole in the bed of the now almost dried up Old Father Thames. I remember hearing Cat shouting ‘you brainless twerp’ before his voice, even at the volume he was yelling at, faded to nothing as I continued to plummet downward.

When we had climbed out of the hovercar, which Cat had landed on the bascule of the original bridge, we had been met by the Commander of the Bridge District’s security force. He saluted, though I had the distinct impression he was saluting Cat rather than me. I was getting used to and frankly, more and more irritated by this kind of behaviour from people. So I decided to assert myself and take authoritative charge. That was a big mistake.

“So Commander,” I said in the deepest, sternest voice I could muster, “I am the Inspector and in charge of this operation.”

I heard Cat yawn and also thought I heard him say, in between the numerous ‘yawny’ noises, ‘Operation?. Silly ass. Needs an operation to get a partner for his brain cell’.

I ignored what I thought I’d heard, determined to continue in the assertion of my authority.

“If you could please point me in the direction of the hole Commander, I’ll look into it.”

Cat literally guffawed at this and as I realised what I’d said I could feel my face flush as I clarified,

“Well I don’t mean look into the hole as such. Though I might. What I actually mean is look into the situation obviously,” I babbled.

I then collected myself, cleared my throat, stood tall and returned to my deep stern voice which was actually an impersonation, I realised, of RickRock, the star of ‘The Universe Awaits’. This was one of the most popular aircast soaps ever and I was a huge fan of Rick’s. Or at least I had been a big fan. Unfortunately, since his public persona had disgraced itself with a virtual shopping attendant it had been quite hard to openly like Rick. Anyways, in my best ‘Rick’ voice and stature I returned to being in charge saying to the Commander,

“The hole, Commander. The hole. Where is it? I am busy you know. I have other Earth critical missions to attend to.”

To be continued…….