[Furtive glance. The coast is clear. The Grey Ghost can now report.]It's been almost six years since I began living with the enemy. I was captured from my watcher's outpost, underneath the enemy's deck. They trapped me in a metal box and tortured me with medical probes. (They called it "going to the vet.") They imprisoned me in their house and began bribing me with tasty soft food. I know it is only because they are fattening me up so they can cook me and eat me later. So far I've managed to avoid being put in a pie, but I've had some awfully close calls. Although I usually manage to escape when the people get within ten feet of me, sometimes they trap me. It's my own fault, I suppose. The food lady gives really good ear scritches, and sometimes I break protocol and let her get close enough to catch me. If she cuddles me, I protest by purring as loud as I can. Eventually the vibrations cause her muscles to involuntarily relax, allowing me to escape.
Having observed these humans for many years, I am confident in sending this report to my superiors: the invasion will succeed. The humans are soft. They spend all their time watching strange flickering screens, both large and small. They won't even notice when our feline invasion force infiltrates and smothers them in their sleep. (Although I must note that the other feline occupants of the house, fat cat and skinny cat, will be less than useless; they can't be bothered to do anything but sleep and chase artificial mice.)
While I await your further orders, I will remain here, infiltrating the human house, preparing for our eventual victory and total world domination. If you see me sleeping on the humans' bed, it is only to stay warm and conserve my energy for the final battle. It has nothing to do with extra scritches. Nothing at all.
[Grey Ghost out.]
