It's been a few weeks since I'd entered "Finish That Thought." But I popped over yesterday, and the prompt got me. In about 20 minutes (and 60 too many words), I had my story.
The first sentence: "None of us really believed in [UFOs]
until the night [the cameraman] went missing." Our special challenge was to include at least three (3) of the
following: an overweight tabby cat, a freight train, a wind chime, a
sheriff, the planet Mars, chocolate cake
Without further adon't, here is "Saved By The Smell."
None of us really
believed in UFOs until the night the cat went missing. That
four-legged bag of trouble more often than not acted like he owned
me. Scratch that. The whole world. Usually, all I had to do
was run the can opener, and that overweight tabby would come running
so fast he'd make the wind chimes sing.
But not tonight.
Concerned, I called Sheriff Brown.
Now you may be
thinking, You called the sheriff over a missing cat? What's the
worry? They'll make more.
Well, you need to
understand three things. First, in our town of 34 people, there's
never a whole lot going on, especially on a Wednesday night. So my
call saved him from having to climb up on his desk and yank down all
the pencils he'd flung into the drop ceiling tiles. Second, I make a
mean cup of coffee. And finally, with regard to cats, something
strange had been going on. I mentioned that our little burg smack-dab
in the middle of Jessamine County has 34 inhabitants. That number
does not include the 317 cats who call this place home. (You might
say that some of the folks around here are a tad eccentric. And you'd
be right) Of late, they had been disappearing. (The cats, not the
eccentric folks.) So I thought there might be something to it.
A few minutes after
I'd phoned, Sheriff Brown pulled up, and stepped out of the car, his
coffee cup leading the way. After a healthy swig, he said, "So
what's going on, Clara?"
Before I could
answer, a sound reverberated off the... well, nothing, since there's
really nothing out here. It reminded me of the theme from Close
Encounters. Though instead of synthesizer notes, it sounded liked
mews.
"What the?"
he said.
A rustling in the
cornfield across the highway drew our attention. To our
half-surprise, half-amusement, there emerged from the stalks hundreds
of cats, all wearing futuristic helmets. Leading the charge—or
better said, waddle—was Mr. Puff. He stood up on his hind legs,
licked the back of a paw and groomed himself for a minute before
clearing his throat.
"My real name,"
he said, looking me squarely in the eye, "you cannot pronounce.
You may call me Commander Puff. I am leading a small tactical force
that will take over the Earth. If you cooperate, no harm will come to
you. And we will be sure to change your litter boxes often."
Just then a freight
train rumbled across the tracks that bisect the north 40. Its wake
stirred a small breeze. A minty scent wafted over us all.
"As I was
saying," continued Commander Puff, "if you cooperate, we
will show you... What's that smell? So intoxicating... Can it be? It
is! Charge!"
The furry armada
coursed past us, and into the field. A chorus of contented purrs rose
into the night sky.
And that is how the
town of Catnip, Kentucky saved the Earth from an alien invasion.
Funny aside: When I read the prompt and
saw [the cameraman] my first thought was to replace it with "the
cat." Then lo and behind, the first special challenge word...
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