Plywood Fiend
Rear Admiral
Morning all, what follows is my attempt at a Wing Commander Humour fic. I haven’t given up on Front lines and with any luck should be updating that some time tomorrow. Sorry for the wait.
P.S. Anyone who doesn’t know who Mr. Kat is should read the ‘Voices of War’ Armada manual. This won’t make much sense otherwise.
PERSONAL LOG:
MR. KAT
March 14th 2669
>> This is getting to be beyond the joke. Graham tried to force-feed me his muesli again. As a result I had to put up with raisins and other bits of the revolting hamster food clinging to my fur for the better part of the day before his mother, (whose name I still cannot remember), found me, decided I was sufficiently messy and guess what, I had to endure yet another painful stay in the cleaning unit. After getting flung from one side of it to the other for the better part of two hours I came out drenched and looking like a seal on marijuana.
I think getting shoved in the dryer afterwards has caused me to shrink again as well.
There are days that I truly regret Confed’s victory at the battle of Earth. Death would be a small price to pay to be free of Graham. The kid delights in finding new ways to torment me. Last night he got it into his head to pretend to be what I can only assume was a confederation marine. All he did was make a pretend gun with his fingers and unleash round after imaginary round of bullets into his model into everything he saw. After he grew bored of this he switched to ‘hand to hand combat’ (his words not mine). This basically involved him throwing me out of the window into the prickly bush below. On the fourth flight I was a*** bombed by a sparrow that had been hiding in said bush. Which led to another trip through the washer.
Graham will pay for this. No matter how long it takes I swear that…
Ah who am I kidding?
March 19th 2669
>> Peace, blessed peace, Graham’s father, Ben I think, has returned to Earth for shore leave. He took the entire family to a nearby beach for the day. I shall from this day thank God that Graham did not take me, if he had I would probably be floating in the Atlantic ocean on my way to God knows where as we speak.
Not much to do around here, they left the holovid system off unfortunately. Mr. Whiskers, our resident flesh and fur feline isn’t up to much either; he just lies near the fire and lets out the occasional yawn.
Hmmm, maybe I can get back to writing that poem I’ve been working on. It’s coming on well I think;
Facts of life, by Mr. Kat
I don’t much like herrings,
I have nothing against them personally,
They just smell.
That’s all I’ve got so far, I’m my toughest critic but I think its perfect.
I best get on with it, soon they’ll be home and Graham will probably have new and creative ways to bring about my untimely demise.
March 20th 2669
>> This is ridiculous. Ben or whatever his name was decided to put a baseball cap on me. After listening to him and what’s her name sniggering mindlessly for about four seconds, they left without taking it off. The damn thing’s too big, I can’t see a thing! And Tragic Hero’s on. I love that film. Although in retrospect I thing that Bertram Valdez was a poor choice to play Christopher Blair. He’s a fine actor, but those eyebrows of his make him look like a tawny owl, you just can’t take him seriously.
Anyway, humiliation aside, what’s new? I watched Graham playing with Mr. Whiskers today and couldn’t help but notice that he doesn’t hurl him out of windows or try and feed him muesli. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe in cruelty to animals, and I have nothing against Whiskers. I just wish that Graham would show the same respect to all cats, be they stuffed or flesh and blood.
March 22nd 2669
>> I was horrified to learn that Graham has spelt my name wrong on my name tag, its supposed to read ‘cat’ not ‘kat’, at least I think it is. Just wonderful. It’s like having a sign around your neck saying ‘I’ve been having problems with my bladder.’
March 23rd 2669
>> Things have been quiet around here; Grahams’ off getting a vaccination of some sort and Ben has been walking around looking half dead. I think his shore leave got cut short. Poor guy. For all my ranting I’m guessing that there are many Confederation pilots who’d gladly trade in fighting the Kilrathi for contending with Graham.
My prayers are with him.
Other then that not much has happened today, I got an email from ‘Squeaky’, my pen friend from Wyoming. Apparently, in a drunken stupor, her owner’s father put chicken nuggets in a toaster and reduced the house to cinders.
Seems to be raining harakh on everyone these days.
To be continued, or not, depending on feedback.
P.S. Anyone who doesn’t know who Mr. Kat is should read the ‘Voices of War’ Armada manual. This won’t make much sense otherwise.
PERSONAL LOG:
MR. KAT
March 14th 2669
>> This is getting to be beyond the joke. Graham tried to force-feed me his muesli again. As a result I had to put up with raisins and other bits of the revolting hamster food clinging to my fur for the better part of the day before his mother, (whose name I still cannot remember), found me, decided I was sufficiently messy and guess what, I had to endure yet another painful stay in the cleaning unit. After getting flung from one side of it to the other for the better part of two hours I came out drenched and looking like a seal on marijuana.
I think getting shoved in the dryer afterwards has caused me to shrink again as well.
There are days that I truly regret Confed’s victory at the battle of Earth. Death would be a small price to pay to be free of Graham. The kid delights in finding new ways to torment me. Last night he got it into his head to pretend to be what I can only assume was a confederation marine. All he did was make a pretend gun with his fingers and unleash round after imaginary round of bullets into his model into everything he saw. After he grew bored of this he switched to ‘hand to hand combat’ (his words not mine). This basically involved him throwing me out of the window into the prickly bush below. On the fourth flight I was a*** bombed by a sparrow that had been hiding in said bush. Which led to another trip through the washer.
Graham will pay for this. No matter how long it takes I swear that…
Ah who am I kidding?
March 19th 2669
>> Peace, blessed peace, Graham’s father, Ben I think, has returned to Earth for shore leave. He took the entire family to a nearby beach for the day. I shall from this day thank God that Graham did not take me, if he had I would probably be floating in the Atlantic ocean on my way to God knows where as we speak.
Not much to do around here, they left the holovid system off unfortunately. Mr. Whiskers, our resident flesh and fur feline isn’t up to much either; he just lies near the fire and lets out the occasional yawn.
Hmmm, maybe I can get back to writing that poem I’ve been working on. It’s coming on well I think;
Facts of life, by Mr. Kat
I don’t much like herrings,
I have nothing against them personally,
They just smell.
That’s all I’ve got so far, I’m my toughest critic but I think its perfect.
I best get on with it, soon they’ll be home and Graham will probably have new and creative ways to bring about my untimely demise.
March 20th 2669
>> This is ridiculous. Ben or whatever his name was decided to put a baseball cap on me. After listening to him and what’s her name sniggering mindlessly for about four seconds, they left without taking it off. The damn thing’s too big, I can’t see a thing! And Tragic Hero’s on. I love that film. Although in retrospect I thing that Bertram Valdez was a poor choice to play Christopher Blair. He’s a fine actor, but those eyebrows of his make him look like a tawny owl, you just can’t take him seriously.
Anyway, humiliation aside, what’s new? I watched Graham playing with Mr. Whiskers today and couldn’t help but notice that he doesn’t hurl him out of windows or try and feed him muesli. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t believe in cruelty to animals, and I have nothing against Whiskers. I just wish that Graham would show the same respect to all cats, be they stuffed or flesh and blood.
March 22nd 2669
>> I was horrified to learn that Graham has spelt my name wrong on my name tag, its supposed to read ‘cat’ not ‘kat’, at least I think it is. Just wonderful. It’s like having a sign around your neck saying ‘I’ve been having problems with my bladder.’
March 23rd 2669
>> Things have been quiet around here; Grahams’ off getting a vaccination of some sort and Ben has been walking around looking half dead. I think his shore leave got cut short. Poor guy. For all my ranting I’m guessing that there are many Confederation pilots who’d gladly trade in fighting the Kilrathi for contending with Graham.
My prayers are with him.
Other then that not much has happened today, I got an email from ‘Squeaky’, my pen friend from Wyoming. Apparently, in a drunken stupor, her owner’s father put chicken nuggets in a toaster and reduced the house to cinders.
Seems to be raining harakh on everyone these days.
To be continued, or not, depending on feedback.
