Noodles and the Mothership

Anyone who has read little_whips recent article about mutant crickets (Link) will by now be aware of one of Virginia's more bizarre residents. They'll also be aware that I screamed like a baby girl the first time I ever saw one. Hey, I'm English. In England we don't have Mutant Horrors from the Alien Hell Pits, and we don't expect to find them sitting in our hallways, waving their nasty antennae at us, the first time we open our front doors...

That was what greeted me, after my first day working at a new and demanding job, after driving on the freeways of a completely unknown city at better than 75mph (because if I hadn't all the other idiot drivers in Virginia would have stomped my ass), situated in a culture that is even more alien to me than that of the northern state in which I'd lived for a year. After I screamed I stomped the.... whatever it was... to be greeted with a thoroughly satisfying crunch - these things don't squish, they crunch.

However, in doing so I identified myself to the Alien Mothership that sends these mutated nightmare motherfuck monstrosities to Earth as an Enemy Combatant, and therefore as a target of their continuing attentions. As of this date, warfare between myself and these so-called 'crickets' is ongoing and continuous.

People of Virginia.... there are Aliens among you....

But (I hear you cry) what has any of this got to do with noodles?

We have a cat, the only one of three brothers who made the cut and accompanied us from Ohio to Virginia. His name is Noodles. All of our cats were, in one way or another, fairly freakish. But Noodles was (and is) the Supreme Freak of the three (which is why I decided he was to make the trip to Virginia). He drinks vodka and grapefruit juice. He is a Supreme Master Black Belt 7th Dan in Kitty Yoga (you can tie this demented furry motherfucker in knots, literally, and he enjoys it - which is why we called him Noodles). He has a vocal range that encompasses ultra-deep subsonic Bass and Hysterical Screaming Operatic Soprano, with which he serenaded my wife for nine hours (continuously) during her drive to join me here.

But that isn't all. Noodles is the only cat I have ever encountered whose eyes possess an awareness that is at least the equal of most humans. Stranger still, if you hold him upside down his eyes appear the same as they do when he is the right way up. Like all cats, he watches things humans can't see - but he does it for half an hour at a time, with religious zeal, and ignores everything else around him. Not only that but if you do manage to distract him his gaze will resume the same fascinated focus on something invisible - but at a different position. Just as you would if your gaze had been distracted from something you were interested in that had, a few moments later, taken up a different position in the room.

It's my belief that Noodles is a Corporeal Automated Telecommunication device, synchronously linked in real time to the Mother Ship that commands the Bio-organic Uniform Gathering enities (which harvest information on all aspects of life in Virginia and are more commonly, if erroneously, known as 'crickets') and is transmitting information back to the Alien Horde which is even now preparing for the Invasion of Earth and the Total Annihilation of all Human Life on this planet.

How do I know that Noodles is in league with the Aliens? Whenever he encounters one of these hideous motherfuckers he doesn't do what normal Earth-type cats do (ie kill it): instead he does what Bees do when they talk to each other - he dances. He twists, gyrates, throws himself around like a whirling dervish on an acid trip - but he doesn't touch the BUG. He avoids contact like the plague - or like something that doesn't want to damage something else.

Noodles is in Cahoots. But that's OK.

I've made a simple calculation. If I look after the (cute) equipment the Aliens have sent to Earth then, when the Aliens inevitably prosecute their infallible (hey, everyone knows Aliens are infallible) Invasion Strategy, they are bound to look on me with favor, right? Not only that, but I know Noodles has to have put in a good word for me - cuz I've looked after him like he was my own child (doesn't everyone who lives with a cat?). I've tended to his every need. I've petted him on demand. I've cleared away his shit, and fed him the finest delicacies. If I'm not in good with the Aliens, who is?

Fuck humans. Aliens rule. I just wish the BUGs weren't as gross as they are. And that they weren't camped out in my back yard and didn't persist in their ongoing and pernicious curiosity in the minutiae of my everyday life life.

Noodles assures me its OK, however (we have a telepathic link). While the Aliens may be pissed at me for squishing the Emmisary BUG that greeted me when I got here that first Monday, their displeasure is counteracted by their satisfaction with the way I've looked after him since then.

When the BUG armies descend on us I shall be protected (even though I continue to kill the hideous motherfuckers whenever I encounter them) for his sake, and I shall be given a high ranking position in the Empire of the Bugs, and total control over the Human Vermin that infest this planet in order to facilitate the Emancipation of the World from erroneous thinking and Vertebrate Prejudice.

BUGs Rule. CATs are cool. Aliens Rock!!

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