From slots 98 on there was going to be a saga. A continuing opus of staggering brilliance; something to cement my legacy. And for one shining moment, all was clear to me. Goodbye Feeble Fable Factory, the kid is on her way! Then the bourbon wore off and I saw the mess I made. And as it always goes in the drizzly gray aftermath, when life shows itself to be little more than a protracted exercise in humiliation and despair, I reluctantly set aside the legend maker and returned to my cell at the Feeble Fable Factory. Which required gaining further permission from the union; permission gained through bribery.
But there was a complication.
Mainly, a ten-feet tall, oddly alluring, ruby-eyed, hybrid insect/lizard complication in a white lab coat. Her name is Mimi, a Qddyte (Kih-DITE) scientist who hails from the next spiral arm in the galaxy…over there, to your right, now left, the right again.
Mimi is surprisingly friendly and understanding for someone who can remove a head like a twist top with any one of her six, um, for the lack of a better word, “hands.” Mimi is also the first Fictional Character (FC) I have created in a very long time who isn’t played by any of my stable of FC actors. Thus Mimi is expensive, and just having her cool her mandibles until the staggering brilliance muse returns is wasteful.
So this Feeble Fable co-stars Mimi and Boots The Impaler. They appear together in the currently abandoned opus and do not hate each other, which is usually a concern when Boots appears in a story. Since he is a Cat, let’s just say that my large array of Rodent and Avian FCs are not members of the Boots the Impaler Fan Club, and let it go at that.
The Cast of Characters:
Boots the Impaler (“BTI”)………..himself
Mimi the Qddyte Scientist………herself
Pygmy Unicorn Crack Nip Den Proprietor……….Daisy Cloverleaf the Pygmy Goatess (she’s still wearing the horn glued on for yesterday’s appearance).
The Feeble Fable
Boots the Impaler, a talking Siamese Cat (from here, BTI) knew he’d be hearing from the Qddyte scientist named Mimi as soon as she got word that the plug had been pulled on her project. If BTI had been anything other than a Cat he might have given a shit about Mimi’s predicament, but doing so was neither in his job nor species description.
Fortunately for Mimi, she caught up with BTI while he was in the euphoric state caused by a product marketed under the name “Crack-Nip.”
“He’s over there,” the Pygmy Unicorn Crack Nip Den Proprietor said, waving a hoof at the tawny mess on the floor.
“Bootsy, darling,” Mimi said, “we need to talk.”
BTI’s blue eyes were crossed and one ear had fallen over like that on a Weenie Dog. His normally immaculate fur was covered with Crack-Nip leaves, and there was an expression on his face that suggested he was fresh off the bus from Sticksville and needed to sneeze but had forgotten how.
“Hiya, thalking gianth grasphopper,”BTI said, unable to conceal his Crack-Nip affected voice.
To be fair, Mimi’s head did somewhat resemble that of a grasshopper, or even a mantis. But she was also a ten foot tall biped, equipped with three sets of arms; and she wore a white lab coat to make certain that everyone knew she was a scientist. She also sported an ID badge that clarified the matter further: HI, I’M MIMI, THE QDDYTE SCIENTIST.
Mimi carefully picked BTI up with one of her many hands and held him close. Under normal circumstances BTI was not someone you picked up without gaining his permission first. But the Crack Nip made BTI an abnormal circumstances kind of guy.
Mimi, cooed softly to BTI. “I’m so happy that you have allowed me to co-star with you in this Feeble Fable,” Mimi said.
BTI had advanced to the mindless purring and drooling phase of Crack Nip usage, thus had nothing intelligent to say.
“Now,” Mimi continued, her radiant ruby eyes shone goodwill and humor, “if you were your normal catty self I guess you’d be a pill about the situation. “But fortunately that little Goat–”
“Ahem,” The nearby Crack Nip Proprietor said, beating a hoof sharply on the floor.
“Sorry, darling,” Mimi said, “But fortunately that little Unicorn over there has sold you what the sign out front claims to be a ‘Cattitude Adjustment.’ That’s very fine. Would you like Mimi to tell you a story, Bootsy? It will enhance whatever delirium tremens come from exiting this stuff.”
“Shure thalkin’ giantth grasphopper.”
“My species almost didn’t survive to become the greatest in the galaxy,” said Mimi. “Well meaning, but essentially misguided, Qddyte scientists long ago added a particle to the atmosphere of my planet that cured substance abuse. No one could get drunk or high anymore and the immunity was passed to the offspring. Instead of being lauded as heroes, the scientists responsible had to live out their lives in hiding. And a Cult formed which eventually became a Theocracy. All young Qddytes were told to obey the Cult and they would go to an afterlife in which wine flowed and powders allowed for our version of the Cattitude Adjustment. Naturally, this inability to get high and improve our perception of reality plunged my planet into a Dark Age, which it almost didn’t survive until the addition to our atmosphere finally wore off in a couple thousand years time. The instant we could get wrecked on almost anything again, progress resumed.”
“Thath therry Intheresting.”
“Right?” Mimi said. She then gently set BTI down on a sofa and went to the Proprietor. Mimi pulled gold from her pocket and asked “How much will I need to feel the same?”
THE AMORAL: BITE THE CHEEK OF THE CRACK THAT NIPPED YOU