Chapter 3

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by Phoebe

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by Phoebe

Hi, hoomans.
I'm Phoebe,
the One and Only Bengal,
and I'm quite shy.
So I asked hooman
to record me
at an angle
that compliments
my spots and face,
but hooman continues
to make lousy video
productions on Instagram.
Meowiating!

Anymeow,
as second-in-command
of Feline Society #337,
I'd like to bring
to light our disposition:

See, lately,
other hoomans
(who are not you, of course)
have been cruel to hoomanity,

which is alarming
since it's Feline Society #337's
ultimate goal
for hoomans to improve
international relationships
with other hoomans,
rather than mindlessly
feeding off the hate
rhetoric of lizards.

If hoomans will not
improve with other hoomans,
how will hoomans care
enough about other
biological life forms,

like the ever-elusive
and tasty octopus
that traveled here
via panspermia
after the last
Babylonian Brotherhood
planetary war?

How will hoomans
take care of fragile little Earth
without the intervention
of training-wheel-
shaped spaceships?

So Feline Societies
collaborated and decided:

if a hooman explained
Babylonian Brotherhood
to the masses,

rather than a cat
at cattention,

surely other hoomans
would listen,
thereby thwarting
the mind control
of Proxima Centauri B,

as effectively as
when Feline Society #84
chucked giant rock
at Earth, and—

...?
...What was that?

We are not supposed
to tell hoomans
we chucked
giant rock at Earth
to murder
valuable Jurassic aliens?

Oops.

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