ROTFLMAO7. Gareth "What to do? What to do?!" Bad Cat thought. "What iN tHe NAME OF DIANA'S HUMUNGOUS HANDS AM I GONNA DOOOO?!!, this last question being inadvertently shrieked aloud, though it wound up sounding more like "Pfft-pfffft-rEoww-MROWW-PFFFFT-MEEERROWWWW!" to the all the poor invalids who were close enough to witness this confusing and frightening display. It was about to get worse. Being completely oblivious to his own mental meltdown, Lieutenant Bad Cat sank even further into his own bottomless pit of feline-schizophrenia. [He immediately dropped to all fours.] Bad Cat's meltdown was understandable enough. [His whiskers started twitching as if they were being pulled by hundreds of tiny fleas in hundreds of different directions at once.] The stress had been incredible lately. [His claws splayed out, his back arched.] This damn war was enough to drive any self-respecting feline over the edge. [His back arching even higher, he started pulling-tearing at the curiously infuriating lime green pile carpeting that ran between the rows of seats.] And with this latest catastrophe, he could well imagine what his Queen would have in store for him. [Like a switch had been hit, Bad Cat immediately stopped clawing the carpeting and crouched flat to floor, head darting from side to side.] There was only one punishment left to officers who made mistakes of this magnitude... Immediate transfer to the Doggerian Kennel Prisons! [Bad Cat's head froze, his ears went flat against his skull.] Left to endure, and even clean up the constantly piddled on barracks after, those idiotic tail-chasing-leg-humping-wastes of fur for the REST OF HIS 9 LIVES! Oh, it was too much! He simply couldn't bear the thought. Bad Cat went completely nuts. His Sergeant was aghast. Never before had he seen such a complete and total loss of the (up till now) legendary Catmandian dignity. His CO was swiping his great claws at the passengers. Tearing up the carpet as he darted this way and that. Looking for all the world like he was desperately trying to kill a whole swarm of imaginary butterflies. At one point, slipping in his own ill-placed hairball, his left claw got quite stuck in the cushioning of an unwary seat cushion. He yanked and pulled, snarling louder and louder still. As if someone had lit his tail on fire, Bad Cat shot up from the seat cushion, pulled a perfectly executed barrel roll along all the overhead compartments, and shot out of the ship not quite breaking the sound barrier. In response to which the Sergeant proceeded to sit back on his haunches and groom himself. Meanwhile, Back on the planet Pink, Darcy had just finished a rather long and quite chilly shower. One that, annoyingly enough, had done nothing to dispel the throbbing. She had, only scant seconds before, sat down before Egg in the hopes of, somehow, catching a glimpse of He/Zor. What she saw served to send her heart into overdrive, scare the bejeezus out of her, electrify her into action and, subsequently, render her completely blind to the remainder of the display. HE was HERE! In this very galaxy, even! AND he was about to be torn limb from limb by some bloodthirsty, crazed Catmandian. Judging from the appearance of the other poor souls on that ill-fated ship, it may already be too late! Oh where DID she leave that DAMNED Laser Destroyer, anyway? She knew she'd thrown down somewhere around here. "There it is!" she barked, squatting down to make some fast adjustments to the hidden adjusters in it's palm grip. Setting the transmitters to just a bit between merciless itch and unbearable filth, she dashed off into her Malibu Start-Trotter, and was gone. She never even noticed Bad Cat's sub-sonic departure. All she knew was that she had to save He. And NOW! Meanwhile, yet again, Seeing the Catmandians apparent meltdowns as an opportunity, He approached the Sergeant. "Do you mind if I go to the bathroom?" He asked. "See if I care." the Sergeant replied, immediately returning to his most urgent grooming. Upon closing the door, He furiously started searching the various wall-panels and compartments. "AHA!" he found it. Thank god. It was all that damned toilet's fault! Well, he'd just have to go back and try again. Maybe next time he'd actually come out somewhere remotely nearer to his beloved Darcy. He placed the plunger on top of his head and got to work. Back & forth. Up & down. Using the low lying ceiling to aid his frantic attempts, he pumped the plunger up & down, Faster & faster. Time stretched and pulled, reality twisted beyond recognition, he heard the discordant notes of some very disturbing and vaguely familiar thrash metal band, had a strange craving for a tiny piece of paper, and... He was back. "DAMMIT!" He shouted. "That's the problem!" seeing the toilet lid had sneakily fallen down whilst he was using the damn thing yet again. He rushed off to find some velcro, a bit of string, and an eye bolt or two. But at that very moment, Darcy, full of murderous rage, was busy ramming the crap out of the Catmandian Star Cruiser. Successfully sending it spinning away into the blackness she quickly, very quickly in fact, parked her Start-Trotter against the now vacant docking port. Seeing but a few twisted forms spew from the opening, none of which looked like He, she immediately jumped from her seat and sprang to his rescue. Diving through the portal, Laser Destroyer seeking out targets to inflict it's hideous mission upon, Darcy sees a lone Catmandian. Licking his CHOPS! THE NERVE! Oh! Did she let HIM have it! Fweeeeee-ZWAP! At which point the Sergeant was instantly and unendurably struck with the most disgusting sense of shamefulness that he had ever encountered. His butt felt like it was both on fire AND as if it had huge giant dingleberries dangling from it at the same time. He had no control over himself. He proceeded to do the only thing left to him that might render some relief. He shucked off his pants and plopped his butt down on the carpeting and then started dragging his fiery/itchy butt up & down the length of the ship. Darcy almost thought she could hear him purring now. At least she didn't have to worry about that cat for awhile. But where was He? 8. WandaJane
Gallery | Best of Socks | FAQ | Subscribe Confirm html 3.2 validation. |