Instant Story

There were a line of little heads on the mat near the bed, just the heads. The damn cat had been at it again!

Sandra drew her toes up again and hid them under her comforter. It wasn’t a straight line. More of a curve. All those dead, bloodied little heads. Arranged in something of a semicircle in a kind of post-mortem worship of her bed.

And in came the cat. Black, sleek and proud. Smirking at his fine achievement. Tail held high. And that damned trilby perched on his head.

“I have slain your enemies, m’lady.”

Eugh. Gross. “I would have preferred them fully disposed of?” she squeaked. “I can’t get out of bed with those there.”

“All the better for me,” smirked the cat. He made to move in to the bed with her.

Sandra sighed. That ex who programmed her otherwise perfectly fine Augment kitten in a fit of revenge was going to pay. And pay dearly. “If I have to stay in bed, you don’t get new Kitty Nomnoms, today.”

The look of absolute dread on his face was priceless. And, in a matter of minutes, the heads were gone. Just sad little spots of blood where they had once rested.

Clear enough for an agoraphobic automisophobe to skip awkwardly past on her way to feed the cat. Followed by her usual three-hour shower before her nice, clean day of info-wrangling in the translation streams. And, for lunch, she could resume her complaint against Daniel.

Programming her cat to be a complete dudebro. What a bitch.

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After the omlette incident, realising exactly how much human food, like cake or pies or snacks, involve eggs.

Day 3.

Hen eggs declared non-cogniscent food. Also declared sterile. Also declared offensive. Further adjudication necessary.

Day 5.

Adjudication finished. Human can consume extant eggs, but only in utter privacy and behind offensensitivity shielding. The human must not consume any more eggs or egg-based products while aboard Science Vessel Sigma-Four.

“WHAT?” Sta-see yawped. Humans could get loud. At least she had been trained to

The unthinking introduction of an omlette to a birdlike alien species.

“What are orbs?” said the assigned Human Watcher. So far, it hadn’t been as dangerous or nasty as she’d been lead to believe. Ri’ki’ki was starting to believe that all the stories were just… stories.

“Eggs,” said the human. Her name was Sta-see. Or something close enough. She was organising her little kitchen according to her own rules.

“You having egg in stasis? They is never hatch.

Prompt: A Lilo and Stitch-esque scene with numidid and surfing humans.

T’yoree was frequently trotted out as an example as to why scientists should not be allowed to breed. She had, even to the humans, the self-preservation instincts of a concussed whelk.

As a keet, she would ride the larger dogs and invented the concept of Frisbee Dodge-em.

Some said that the natural Deathworlder attitude towards risk had rubbed off on her.

And she was the first Numidid to surf. Of

“You do That! for fun?”

“What the heck is that?”

Charlie peered past Kress’ shoulder. “Oh. That’s my wingsuit. I use it for base jumping.”

Kress screwed up her saurian features. “Base… Jumping.”

“Yeah,” Charlie grinned. She started to bounce in her enthusiasm. “It’s like skydiving, only instead of jumping out of a plane, you jump off of something really tall, build up speed with the suit, and then rip silk.” She hastily amended, “Uh. That means