Smokey was lounging on the couch, watching Mind of a Chef on PBS. He was musing as to whether he would ever figure out a way to cook for himself. He found human food fascinating, how there were infinite combinations of ingredients and that, after thousands of years, new dishes were still being created. He longed to flip onions in a sauté pan, roll out dough, BBQ a steak! Of course, furry claws with no opposable thumbs didn't lend themselves well to doing such things. Being a prey-stalking, carnivorous animal you'd think his teeth would be great for butchering meat but prior attempts had ended in shredded beef rather than the perfectly cut tenderloin he had intended. He had to rely on his owner/roommate to make his food for him. Owner. What a ridiculous term. Barry didn't own anything, even the furniture came with the shabby apartment Smokey was forced to live in. Food. Barry could barely make toast and Smokey often opted to eat his own canned Purina instead of what Barry tried to prepare for him.
Just as Smokey was lamenting being stuck with such an inept human being, Barry came in the door form his job at the plant. "Hey Smokey!" he said cheerily.
"I told you not call me -- aw fuck, forget it I give up."
"Heyyy hey, language buddy."
"Shut the f--"
"Whoa! Seriously what's your problem?!
"I'm just sick of this Barry. What am I doing here? I feel so trapped in this body. Why am I alive? Why can I talk?"
"Sounds like you're having an existence crisis," Barry said, looking smug that he had used what he thought was an intelligent phrase.
"Existential."
"What?"
Smokey stared at Barry. If he could make facial expressions, they would convey "scorn."
Barry tried changing the subject. "Ok you seem really upset. Why don't we put on Rick and Morty. You love that show don't you?!"
"Yes...it's alright." Smokey did really like Rick and Morty, a cartoon about a mad scientist (Rick) and his grandson (Morty). Rick would always drag Morty on ridiculous adventures, spanning dimensions, universes and time. Besides finding it exceedingly funny, Rick really reminded him of himself. The dad in the cartoon -- Jerry -- also reminded him of Barry.
Barry put on the episode Rick Potion No. 9. It was one of Smokey's favourites, chiefly for the use of "Cronenberg" (one of his favourite directors) as a verb. They were about half way through the episode when something odd started to happen. It was a a scene where Rick and Morty were in their spaceship, speaking to each other.
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"Alright Morty, we have to make a quick detour," Rick said, belching. "Again?" Morty whined.
This was odd because Smokey had seen this episode many times but didn't remember Rick ever saying that. What happened next was even more odd.
In the cartoon, Rick pushed a button in his spaceship. In their apartment, a spaceship crashed out of the TV and landed on Barry, killing him instantly.
Smokey darted into the bedroom, under the bed. What the hell just happened. Did a spaceship just appear in the living room. Did the spaceship come from the TV. Was the spaceship driven by Rick, a cartoon character. Was Barry dead holy shit Barry's dead. These were the thoughts running through Smokey's mind when Rick called from the living room "Smokey! Let's go, it's time!"
"Rick, where are we? This place looks weird."
"Shut up Morty. D-d-d-d-do-do-do me a solid and get that cat under the bed. I need to enter in our next destination."
"I dunnooo Rick, I'm not very good with cats."
Smokey was listening to all this, not intending to come out under any circumstances.
"Morty just think of it as a girl who needs your help. And think of you as not you at all but someone actually b-b-b-*belch* brave and useful. Also, that's not exactly a cat."
Smokey's ears perked up. What did he mean by "not exactly a cat?" Almost against his will, his curiosity compelled him out from under the bed. He hoped it wouldn't get him killed.
"Is Barry dead?" Smokey asked the two cartoon characters in his living room. As much as he disliked him, Barry had never harmed him and clearly cared about him. He couldn't believe that he was gone. Morty thought of asking why the cat could talk but it was really nothing compared to the other bizarre things he'd witnessed with his grandfather so he let it slide.
"Don't worry about that toolbag," Rick said flippantly. "Alright, y-y-y-you probably don't remember who you really are but it's best that I just show you later. Jumping right to the climax never ends well, am I right Morty?"
"That wasn't my fault!" Morty cried indignantly.
Rick pointed his portal gun at the wall and fired. "Alright, get in the ship Smokey I need your help. It's really important," he said.
Smokey had never been needed by anyone for anything before. He liked the feeling. He had nothing to lose so he got in the ship and they flew through the portal.
Smokey had a lot of questions but was too enthralled by the view afforded by the ship window to bother asking any of them. The three of them sat in the ship in silence as it flew toward a suburban house. It landed in the driveway.
"Isn't this...your house?" Smokey asked.
As they walked into the garage, Rick said "Smokey there's an intruder and only you can capture it."
Smokey looked puzzled. "You mean an intergalactic intruder? Someone in another dimension? Do we have to travel back in time and make sure the intruder isn't born?"
"Not exactly, Smokey. There's a mouse in my workshop and I need you to catch it."
Smokey stared up at Rick, feeling stupid. Just then a mouse scurried out from across the far wall of the workshop. Smokey instinctually ran at it, chased it under a table and promptly killed it.
"Bazinga!" Rick shouted, punching the air.
Morty asked "Rick did we seriously just kidnap a talking cat from another dimension to catch a mouse? Have you heard of mouse traps?"
"Morty don't be stupid, that was a mouse from Epsilon 7 and they can only be killed by cats from Epsilon 7. Everyone knows that."
"So I'm from Epsilon...7? Is that a planet?" Smokey asked.
"That's a negative Smokes, you're from here, like me. Because you are me."
"Another clone?!" Morty asked, exasperated.
"Wrong as usual. Seriously Morty you're like the Michael Jordan of being wrong. No, he's not a clone. He's me, from the future."
Smokey didn't know what to say, or to think for that matter. Earlier, he had been having an existential crisis, now his existence was unfathomable.
"Ten years from now, trillions of E-7 mice will eat this entire world. I had tried to stop them but it was too late so I spliced my genes with one of their cats and hid myself in the past, erasing my memory. That mouse you just killed, Smokey, was their scout. Epsilon 7 will never know that this world exists now that their scout won't make it back."
