We've been up since three or four, warming up, and getting ready for the morning patrol. We know he will be coming soon; we just don't know when.
Charlie is dozing off, and I am starting to feel sleepy again.
All of a sudden, my floofs and ears pick up tremors and vibrations; alarms are going off in my body; I am flushed with adrenaline. All this happens before my head has a chance to make any sense of the sudden burst of anxiety. We scramble! I stretch with a yawn and a growl. Charlie coughs, backfires, sputters, puffs of smoke blow out of her fluffy ears, and we're humming. We start the bouncy takeoff roll, our tails lift off the ground, and moments later, we're airborne. The wheels come up.
We hold tight and watch the lunk until we are sure he goes where we want him to go. Charlie stays low, right above the ground. I climb and climb, as hard as I can, all the way to the ceiling. I look for the light of the double full moons bouncing off the biped's bold head. And there they are, little slivers of reflected moonlight.
The Moloch is still half asleep and mumbling to himself, or us, but we pay no attention. I know his blood pressure is redlining, and it is not from coffea. We can feel every thought buzzing in his brain. It's a bun thing. Ancestral stories through the ages have given us a sense of prescience he will never know. He suspects we are very close and that's all he can do. And that blood pressure will go up and up until he can see us.
He slowly turns on the lights, tries to call us on the emergency frequency, and I feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He still wonders where we are, and slowly shlepps in circles over the North Sea of Pee Pads. Tiny golden orbs become trapped between toes, but he never complains.
When he starts to turn his back toward us, we move in for the grab! I snap my mask on, slide the bubble canopy, and latch it tight. I feel a squeeze in my gizzard, and my legs are giving me all they've got.
Charlie's behind me, close to the ground, gaining speed. She strikes first! Charlie weaves like mad around the biped's feet, trying to trip him up, trying to make him step on her. She almost gets him, but right before he's about to crush her paw, he catches himself and keeps that ugly foot up. Charlie knows he won't step on her, and she moves to the spot where he'll try to set his foot on the ground. Of course, he can't, and pulls up that leg at the last moment, then starts to go down. But Charlie has too much speed by now, and can't make that tight turn to meet his foot, and flies wide. She speeds up, makes a big arch, and sets up for another go.
The meatsack stays upright against all odds. He waits, covered in perspiration, discombobulated, and frazzled from the gymnastics he didn't expect to have to do. That wakes him up for good, unfortunately.
I keep circling around to keep him guessing, and Charlie closes in.
Almost frozen in place, the biped spins his head like a top, trying to keep track of us. He tries to sit down on the floor, holding the container of cookies in his left paw and using his right paw for support. Just then, Charlie goes right under his duff. Somehow, the lump stops going down for a moment, and Charlie barely makes it to the other side. The biped's legs are screaming with pain, having to arrest the momentum of his descent to the floor.
Finally, I see it. Eyes locked on the cookie bag, I give it all the boost I can muster. My gizzard makes grunting noises, and I lunge.
My first snap misses, the second grabs a piece of flesh, and in the corner of my eye, I see the biped's right paw reaching around for my belleh, trying to scoop me up. I break off the attack and dive away with a twist. The turn is so fast and violent that my vision goes dark. I tense my gut as hard as I can. Pellets drop out. But he's not done with me yet. I feel the paws tickling my back, trying to calm me down. He'll go for my gizzard again if I let him, so I keep running. I manage to pounce, bounce, and weasel away somehow.
To cool my head, I make a big circle to get away from the fray; clear the space around me, and speed up for a second pass.
Charlie is the first to start climbing over the sitting biped. I can see his paw holding a cookie, and I make my move once more. The first snap goes wide. I calm down, put in the correction, and lead the paw. Snap! Snap! Snap! I graze the flesh. Snap! Snap! Chomp! I bite into the cookie! The cookie crumbles, crumbs explode in my maw, and I roll away, mouf full, one eye on the biped.
I slowly nom and savor the treat. Seconds feel like infinity until the cookie is gone and only a small field of debris remains on the surface of the North Sea of Pee Pads. I look around and see the hoomin paw holding another snack. I can't have just one! Or two. I go for it one more time. I barely miss, but I correct much faster, and my teeth drive into the treat. No flesh this time. Another dive away. Getting away from the commotion, I swiftly roll left and enter a spiral dive. I slide back my bubble, descend, and unsnap my mask. The thin, dry, freezing air feels good on my face.
My nearly three-sixty vision picks up Charlie peeling away and heading home. We've got our fill.
I look at the gauges, and my legs tell me I'm hopping on fumes. Gear down, flaps down, prop forward. My floofs gently kiss the ground.
We taxi to a stop close to the bundos, and the ground crew takes over. Somebun is trying to put chocks under my paws. Somebun else is looking over every inch of my fur, looking for holes. An over-eager medic tries to check my temperature and gets a swift thump to the forehead instead. My gizzard is making quiet ticking noises as it cools. That pint of pineapple fruit water can't go down fast enough. Trembling paws rummage around for that catnip stogie. Did Charlie take the last one!?
It's still dark outside, and the moons are bright in the night sky. I'm exhausted when Charlie hops around and we disappear deep, deep into the bundo, to loaf, to rest. We'll be ready when both moons rise again.
- Gus, and thank you, Buntie Susan, for all your help with this one.
|  | 
| Charlie, "It needs a little something. Unfortunately, I had just emptied my bladder. And all that sludge went to waste." | 





 









