Cat In An Alien X-Ray

“So who invited all these true believers to an empty lot? Did the people just arriving miss the main attraction? A real UFO landing? Or is it all a come-on for a new magic act on the Strip? Maybe the New Millennium Hotel’s Cloaked Conjuror can pay Paradise Road a visit and pull away the curtain.”

How right the annoying twerp was. Temple knew she had to get there to do damage control, whether she was representing Farnum or not.

“This is Crawford Buchanan, the KSOS-TV Night Crawler, up bright and early to see what the cat dragged into Vegas now.”

Temple remembered the small four-legged silhouette streaking away from the temporarily revealed spotlight the saucer’s neon green pillar of light made. Oh, no! Where was Louie? Not here safe in bed.

All she needed was Molina on the warpath and her cat caught fleeing the scene on film.

Chapter 27

We Are Not Alone

I knew there was something fishy about that high-rise parking garage the old guy in the seersucker suit was wanting my Miss Temple to see the other night. So I went along undercover (of darkness) to view the sneak peek.

Manx! Those UFO lights nearly sizzled my unmentionables.

I rocketed out of there, but when the waft of something fishy undulates past the area between my whiskers and chin, I leave no stone unturned or nook and cranny unexplored.

What are these nooks and crannies, anyway? More of those insanely popular e-readers? I am sure that it goes back all the way to middling English, which is no skin off my sniffer, as I do not deign to speak anything other than key phrases of cat.

Humans would be a lot better off if they restricted themselves to only a few choice words of absolute necessity, such as “This sunlight spot is mine” or “You are sleeping on my tail.” Instructions to lesser beings, that kind of thing. In that line, I will broadcast a mental command to Miss Temple: “More shrimp risotto sauce on that former rabbit food that is served to me in the guise of army brown Free-to-Be-Feline health kibble. Pellets in and pellets out, if you know what I mean, and the ants will play pinochle on your snout before I munch a bit of it. It does not fill my nook or cranny.

Anyway, I am again on the same site, and it is almost unrecognizable, mostly for the crowd of gawkers it has attracted.

I wander now among the gathered weirdos, fans, and true believers of all things UFO and alien. If any murderer was going to return to the scene of this crime, the discovery of an unlabeled corpse, he or she would have an instant cover.