Decibel (decibel45) wrote,

Beware the furry aliens...

Lately I've been reading a book by a certain humor columnist, and I guess it's inspired me a bit. The seeds for this came to me the other day and I thought I'd plant them and see what happened. My apologies if the result is a weed patch in your computer room.

I've discovered an alien plot, unfolding right here in my house. You see, cat's are actually alien probes, sent here to study humans. Well, at least my 2 cats are. It's possible, perhaps even likely, that other cats are alien probes as well. Maybe each different breed has a different job. Male black and white cats would have the mission to study human anger caused by marking territory (read as: peeing all over). Of course siamese cats are here just to make you feel inferior. We have a siamese, and she must think she's, well, the cat's meow. Even with the silly name of "Pi", she still goes about with the air of someone who knows they're the most important person in the house. Yes, I did say person. I'm convinced she thinks she is one, just with too much body hair, and a severe orthopedics problem. And yes, my roommate, being the geek that he is, named her after an irrational number (which happens to be 3 if you're a Hoosier like him). Even with such a silly name, she still thinks the world revolves around her. If anything it would revolve around the 17lbs black and white, who does have his own gravity well. What's even worse, is Pi has the audacity to feel this way when her name used to be "Pyewackit". Yes, "Pi" is actually an improvement in the name department. I don't know what could be more absurd than "Pyewackit". Everyone knows you don't wack pie, you eat it. Well, unless it's a Hollywood movie about teens, flutes, and band camp.

My two cats, being of the orange tabby variety, have been sent to earth to study human bathroom behavior. Why this is of interest to the aliens I don't know. Perhaps they hope to catch all of humanity with it's pants around it's ankles when they decide to attack. Not only that, but out of toilet paper as well. It would be pretty difficult to fight of alien intruders while you're waddling across the bathroom with your pants down, trying to get a roll of TP to finish what you came in the bathroom to do, namely wipe the carcass off your knee of the spider that managed to crawl that high before you noticed it and dispatched it. This spider was, of course, captured by the cats and planted on your shoe while you were busy petting the cat. You think they hunt after insects as a source of food, or for fun and profit? Heck no.

How do I know my cats were sent by aliens to study bathroom behavior? Because it doesn't matter who's in the bathroom, they want to be in there right with you. Doesn't matter if it's me, friends, or the Loch Ness monster. Of course, I didn't discover the alien plot immediately. Just as one would expect, my cats began life as cute, innocent little kittens. For those of you without cats, this is the phase of like that involves turning enormous quantities of food into enormous quantities of energy and litter box activity. If either of these could be harnessed, we'd be able to solve global warming, end world hunger, and still have plenty of time for a round of golf before lunch. They were still in the kitten phase when I brought them home. What I didn't realize until later is that this is also the phase when they receive their alien programming from high-power transmitters located on strange celestial worlds, like Missouri. For the first several days after I brought them home, they would hide under the bed anytime I was around. Or at least I thought they were hiding. Turns out this is when they were receiving the alien transmissions from Missouri.

Now I know what you're thinking. "Preposterous!" "Hogwash!" "Lunacy!" "What should I have for dinner!" I thought the same things at first, too. Clearly it makes no sense to receive alien programming while I'm around, the risk of being discovered is too great. But as it turns out, I (along with my bed) were critical parts of their reception system. If I wasn't there, they just couldn't get a signal. It's the alien feline equivalent to forcing your kid brother to touch the TV antenna so you could watch Woody Woodpecker (and if you don't know who Woody Woodpecker was you won't know what a TV antenna is either, so it doesn't matter).

After a few days of this, my cats wouldn't run and "hide" under the bed every time I was around. Of course, this signified that programming was complete and it was time to begin their mission of studying everything that goes on when a person is in the bathroom, from every possible vantage point. They're not happy with just sitting and watching, oh no. They must be constructing a very complex model of bathroom activity, because they need to watch it from every vantage point possible. In front of you, from the counter-top, on top of the toilet, behind the toilet, the bathtub, you name it. If shower curtains were climbable I'm sure they'd use them to get the "Goodyear blimp" view.

Presumably, after running all over to make all these observations the cats are supposed to report their findings back to Missouri. But this is where the alien plan falls apart. You see, even with 3 days of intermittent programming, somehow the cats were never taught what water is. Perhaps this is because I didn't hold my left little toe in JUST the right position when that knowledge was being transmitted, I don't know. What I do know is that the furry little alien probes have no knowledge of water, because it fascinates them. Just when they're ready to file a report with HQ, you flush or turn on the faucet and BAM! All thoughts about reporting back are long gone, replaced by "Oh, WOW! Look at all that shimmering dry stuff! This is just soooo COOL!". You see, cat's think water is actually dry. This is why they get so thoroughly freaked out anytime they actually come in contact with it. Either that or because cats are actually made of the same stuff as pop-rocks.

So ultimately, the aliens won't get their bathroom intel, and their plans of world domination will fail. This is a good thing, because between between trying to fit a diaper to the black and white cat and giving an attitude adjustment to the Siamese, I just don't have time to deal with aliens. Oh, and in the interest of keeping peace around the house, I should mention that since moving away from Indiana, my roommate no longer thinks that pi is 3. Yes, he's seen the light, and now knows that it's actually 22/7.

Now if you'll excuse me, my cat just planted a spider carcass on my knee and I need to clean it off.

And for those of you who know my roomate, I hope you realize that I only put that stuff in for comedic value. For those who don't know my roomate, I'll let you decide if what I said is actually true. :P
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