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This Is What They Tell Me

So let me set the scene for you. It was a quiet afternoon here at Hansen Citadel. The boy's at daycare, Lisa and I were at work. The cats were all napping upstairs on the bed, doing their best sprawl across the sheets.

Then, June's head came up. She heard -- no, sensed something, with her every feline fiber. She leapt to the floor, alert. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Her one blue eye looked up to see a shimmering in the air. She hissed, a loud alert summoning the others to instant awareness. They formed up into battle formation, the Three-Taloned Paw, eighth formation of Cat-Fu. As they watched, the shimmering grew into a vortex that ripped a hole in the fabric of reality itself. The air filled with the smell of methane as through the hole stepped one of the cats from Saturn.

A cat from Saturn is a terrible thing; a little more than a mockery of a true cat, it seeks to destroy what it cannot ever be. It raised up its horrible face and hissed. And they leapt at each other.

The foundations of the house shivered as they each dealt titanic blows. In short, the fur flew. But though they struggled long, neither side could gain an advantage. But June saw a way to thwart the cat from Saturn and in a moment, put her plan into action.

She turned and ran, as if seized by fear. And the cat from Saturn, thinking it sensed weakness, chased after her. Down the stairs they ran, two streaks of pale lightning. Into the kitchen June ran, and it was there she put her plan into action.

Up onto the counter she sprang, where I had left the frying pan to dry. With the flick of a paw she pushed it so the handle hung out into the space. Then as her enemy charged towards her, she gave a little jump to land on the end of the handle.

The frying pan flipped up into the air. For a microsecond it hung there. Then, in the next, it smashed into the cat from Saturn, the heavy metal bending from the force of the blow. The cat from Saturn staggered and then the cats were on it. They pummeled it until the alien invader fled, battered by their assault. They, and the house, were saved.

At least, this is what the cats claimed happened when we asked them how the frying pan got on the floor, and how it got one hell of a dent in it.

Comments

I don't know if your cats are giving you the straight scoop, but they sure are funny.

A for Effort!

Well, it does need some editing. But I tried to translate it exactly as they told it to me.

I want more cat adventures!

You know, Escape Pod has a 300 word flash fiction contest going right now...