Blockade Boy Has Cooties

When I got back from saving the Earth from certain destruction, I decided to treat myself to a "spa day" like all the manly warriors enjoy back on my homeworld of Amadus. I disconnected the intercom so I could "sleep in", and when I finally woke up scraped some of the thicker callouses off my palms with a hunk of lava rock and then soaked for a couple hours in a tub filled with frozen cubes of pure vodka. Afterwards I had my robot dinosaur trample on my back for an invigorating massage. I spent the main part of the afternoon grooming my back hair. And -- like I do every day -- I shaved off the huge, cowboy-style mustache I had grown overnight.

And that's how I was late to the super-pet selection. By the time I got there, all that was left was a cat the length of a wiener dog, with sixteen legs, and it was striped like a roll of Lifesavers! I immediately dubbed her "Cootie" (after the toy) and carried her back to my room.

So of course the second I got her into my room she saw the giant yellow robot dinosaur, divided into four different four-legged cats and freaked out!

Cootie Blue stretched her body like a furry rubber band and tore around my room at top speed, knocking crap over.

Cootie Red burst into flame and flew around my room in a panic, setting everything on fire.

Cootie Yellow bulged with rock-like protrusions and stomped all over the furniture, smashing it.

And every time I tried to grab Cootie Green she'd float out of reach and then knock me on my ass with some kind of mental force.

The automatic sprinklers put out the blaze but they also drenched the four Cooties. And since cats hate water, that just pissed them off even more. So I was stuck in a wet, charred dump of a room with four shivering, yowling cats.

I guess I should explain here that I'm not exactly a "cat person." I mean, I had a cat when I was a kid. Kind of. But it was one of my own planet's cats. And on Amadus, everything's way more masculine than it is on Earth.

All the men tend to look like this guy.

(Dad? Is that you?)

And all the women tend to look like Frida Kahlo.

And all the cats tend to look and act like dogs (specifically, Rottweilers). So I was really out of my element here!

I had to improvise. The first order of business was to get their trust, so I went straight for my refrigerator and dug in the big pile of raw steaks I keep in there at all times. That actually got them a little too happy. The little buggers pounced on me before I could even get the meat onto whatever plates they hadn't destroyed yet. I started yelling at them, and they backed up, hissing, their hind legs working like they were about to charge at me again. And sure enough they did, but I was ready for them. At the last instant I used my one natural super-power -- transforming into a steel wall -- and they rebounded off of me, surprised but unhurt. ('Cause they're super!) I finally had them right where I wanted them.

I changed back into my normal cybernetic self, gathered up the steaks in my arms and fixed them with my sternest glare, the one that's made many a rival space-pirate piss his space-knickers. "Listen up, Cooties," I growled. "I'm the boss cat here and you are my underlings. You want this meat? You can beg me for it." I crouched down on the floor with my beefy arms around the steaks and started chewing on a beautifully-marbled slab of top sirloin. (What? You Earth-types actually cook your meat before eating it? Haw! Whatever, nerds!) After a minute Cootie Yellow crept up to me and rolled over on her back. She mewed, softly. The other three Cooties followed suit.

I tore a steak into pieces using only my mighty, sinewy hands and distributed them amongst the four cats. After they'd had their fill, the Cooties reintegrated into one freakishly long cat and curled up on my furry chest. Then we both fell asleep.

I felt like I couldn't leave these dangerous creatures alone in my room until I'd trained them, so I had to make do with what I had. For the next few days I lived like a lion, crawling about on all fours, "hunting" meat from the refrigerator, and -- although it broke my heart -- pooping in that huge bowl of potpourri I keep in the corner. But I'd established an unbreakable dominance over the wild Cootie(s) and had even taught her/them to follow my commands.

Sadly, I was so into character that I nearly disemboweled one of the Hall's cleaning staff when he startled me (my apologies, Pavel) but my fantastic foursome of cats is now a crackerjack crime-fighting team! I've dubbed their specialty move "the Blazing Slingshot of Suffering and Awesomeness." That's where Cootie Red rides Cootie Yellow piggyback-style and Cootie Green uses her telekinesis to snap Cootie Blue into them like a rubber band and send them flying into my enemies. Afterwards I give them a sardine or a toy ball with a jinglebell inside it or something.

Now I just have to get my room back in order. (Step one: replace the potpourri.)