The cat crawled in on his belly, making sounds like, "hoork, hooork," and wheezing worse than our fifteen-year-old vacuum.
"Gotta do that here, you bastard?" I asked.
The cat's ears flattened, and he rolled one baleful eye at me. "Hraaaack!" he said. "Glortch." He barfed up a wet trickle of brown-orange gunk. Something silvery glinted in the puddle. I leaned over.
It was a little disc with a clear bubble in the middle. Inside, a tiny, green-skinned man pounded on the glass, staring at me with terrified eyes.
Then the dog swooped in and ate it.
Just as well, really.
Tapson on Tales and Totalitarianism
3 hours ago