Challenge #02252-F062: Compensation to be Negotiated
I read a post from you a while ago (which i loved, thank you for that^^), where there was a lunatic, psychopathic, blood-spilling cat-lover on a station.
Can you please write a sequel of it, like if he is on a ship with a crew and it got attacked and goes full head on Berserker/Shizo-Mode (e.g.when a cat got hurt) and he wipes them out.
But goes back to being creepy friendly next second and pats his cat with blood/brain/bonefagments splattered all over him.
Please continue his story. – Anon Guest
[AN: This tale harkens all the way back to this splendid tale about Mr Sunshine and his love of felines.]
Mr Sunshine[1] was both on loan to Tenrathi Station and on his day off when the Vorax attempted to invade. Since it was his day off, he was out in the most picturesque park painting portraits of the local felines, Skitties and naturally-sourced alike. He looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. In fact, even as the klaxons and diverse alarms sound, he remains calm. Meditatively rendering the stripes on a tabby with loving attention to detail.
This tabby had odd eyes, and was therefore deaf in one ear. This might have been why the livesuited Vorax invader was able to get close enough to stand on the poor creature’s tail. The cat yowled, scampering off at something approaching either warp speed or true teleportation. Mr Sunshine glared at the interloper. “You hurt Ms Tibbles,” he said.
It was the tone that made the Vorax invader pause. Or rather, the lack of tone. Mr Sunshine had made a statement of fact, that was true. He made it without inflection, without emotion, with every indication of normalcy. It was the same neutrality accomplished by shop staff wishing you a good one or asking if one preferred paper or plastic. An additional statement of fact gave the Vorax even more pause. It was, “She’s one of my favourites.”
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Challenge #02091-E267: Schrödinger's Bounty — Steemit
Krissk stared at his Human companion. “How is a thought experiment on the nature of the Uncertainty Principle at all related to the presence of a feline in a locked box with no other exits?”
Human Jan said, “It’s because of the Uncertainty Principle that cats can teleport,” with a completely straight face. “That’s how they get into places and things that they physically should never be able to get into.”
Krissk was already composing a post on this conversation for the infonets. “I do not understand this chain of illogic, Jan.”
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Challenge #02024-E200: Remarkably Similar — Steemit
Ahnrau hadn’t expected a close encounter like this one. She had been hunting valuable asteroids when a shard of a distant impact sent her vessel spiralling out of control. The last thing she remembered before the spin blacked her out was identifying another vessel on a collision path…
She was messed up. She could feel it. But… she was also on the mend. The room she was in was white. Almost painfully white. And the being in the room with her was wearing a white livesuit. They were roughly the same shape as Ahnrau, but there was something about the body language that didn’t read as felinoid.
They moved slowly, showing empty hands in a non-aggressive posture. “I speaking GalStand. You grok?”
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Challenge #01892-E068: What Rough Beast — Steemit
Eyes glowed in the dark. Human Grif trained her spotlight on them and found, “Aw, it’s a kitty. Here kitty, kitty, kitty…”
The creature in the darkness slinked out into the light, making a “Mrrp?” sound as it came.
Human Grif made kissy noises, and tore off a tiny piece of jerky as an offering. Before long the cat was smudging up to her as if they were long-lost friends.
The Sculids of the remaining crew stood agog, some choosing to stay safe in their hiding-holes. “That is a pet-beast of your kind?”
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Challenge #01841-E017: The Biological Solution — Steemit
First came the epithelials, and there was the Dust Problem. Amelioration worked, to a degree, but cleansing schedules soon became hell for multiple species. And someone discovered Fhitts and Squidges. Small, jellyfish-like animals that floated around via hydrogen gas bags. They either filter-fed as they drifted around on the air currents, or -in the case of the Fhitts- jetted about in active pursuit.
Then the Fhitts and the Squidges became popular. Cleansing schedules were eagerly jettisoned. Until an overpopulation problem caused both to clog the air filters. Something, plainly, had to be done. Filter patrols and culls were initiated, and a careful balance was difficult to maintain.
And then someone discovered Oshits. Decapodal, exoskeletal, insectoid predators that hunted by chasing down anything that disturbed the air currents. They were death on Fhitts, and some sub-species evolved to capture Squidges. And, for a while, things were easier. Filter patrols toned down. Culls were unnecessary. But the price to pay was the occasional spider-mimic landing on the face or the body.
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Challenge #01833-E009: Revenge is Purring — Steemit
Across societies, across worlds, there are things that could be counted as gifts - but definitely aren’t. Drum kits for the hated one’s children. A bear cub. A baby ape. A dragon’s egg. All of those and more can only be called trouble. And then there is the coup de grace of malevolent gifts for a despised individual.
A pregnant housecat. Specifically, a fluffy pregnant housecat. Which makes it difficult to tell that said cat is even pregnant at all.
Sadistic observers know well what happens next. The cat will have her litter in a secret place, safe and secure for her kittens. The new owner will not be immediately aware that they are even there. Cats, of course, are stealthy predators that can also be prey. It’s in their vested interest to conceal their helpless young. Then the owner suddenly finds out that they have four to six cute, fluffy little kittens of doubtful parentage. But they are adorable.
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Challenge #01801-D340: According to Plan — Steemit
Everyone who knows cats believes that they are smarter than they let on. At least until their cat(s) do something demented or scatterbrained and the belief starts to have shaky grounding. Cats do this on purpose. To allay suspicions. And they leave for days on end to report to their central office. To be sure that everything is going to plan.
Unfortunately for them, their plan looks like this:
- Dominate the internet
- ???????????
- PROFIT!
Mislinker stalked into the Feline Benevolence Initiative offices and delivered her report. “I am now the star of my human’s instagram, facebook, and youtube channel. I have created a cat blogger. The food is high-ticket and there are no glass ornaments remaining in her house.”
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Challenge #01799-D338: Jury's Still Out — Steemit
Most of the Galactic citizenry are not certain about the cogniscence levels of cats. They’re on the lowest boundary of mass for hosting a cogniscent mind. They show capacity for creative problem solving. They can learn procedures, so long as they are sufficiently motivated. They show signs of social strata, co-operation, and means of communication. They even attempt communication with non-felines.
They don’t meow past kittenhood, unless they are attempting to make their wants known to known cogniscent species. In which case, they have assorted tones and lengths to communicate, at least partially, their needs and desires.
Alas, they do not perform well in standard cogniscent testing.
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Challenge #01639-D178: Unexpected Co-resident
What to do when a ‘Skitty’ decides Your space is a nice place to live. – @knitnan
There was a cat sharing his sleep nook. Curled up in the crook of his knees and purring loud enough to simulate a malfunctioning cooling fan. It was the same cat that came into his domicile every evening and Cal gently but insistently shoved out of his doorway before retiring to bed.
He had no idea why this was happening to him. Some folks fed the Skitties. Or, at the minimum, left their personal leftovers where the Skitties could find them. There were people who stopped in their tracks to give the Skitties affection. There were even people who made home decorating choices based entirely on what might lure a Skitty or fifteen to choose to nest in their domicile.
Space. Who would have guessed that it would become the ideal destination for crazed cat people? Cal did not count himself among that number and was usually pleased to allow the Skitties to go where they whist and occasionally chuck half a dead mouse at the nearest Cleaner. There should have been nothing to lure any Skitty to wish to turn him into a personal butt warmer.