guywortheyauthor
Dax Magraw, here. I hail from Terra, and I'm a small hairless warm-blooded biped. I'm a peacekeeper on nu Ophiuci c 1, better known as "Catworld."
We had a reliable rumor that Silver Mowk and his gang planned to hit Big Ro's drinking hole tonight. I'm here to stop him.
Now, don't get the idea that I'm brave or anything. The cats (the natives: furry bipedal masses of bone and muscle) terrify me, and they often rip each other to bloody shreds. Sure, they outweigh me about five-to-one, and one swipe of their claws would send me to the morgue, but I've got an ace up my sleeve: I play trombone.
Music turns the Ksss (the big cats) into fuzzy puddles of adoration. It's enough to de-escalate almost any conflict.
Trouble is, some cats are gaining resistance to musical tranquility. Or so I hear.
It won't happen on my watch.
Right?
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This is a 3000-word short story. Feel free to leave me comments, guffaws, and spittle-peppered brays of disbelief.
Cover by Little Vee! I consider it miraculously on point, given the bizarre nature of my story.
Yours,
Guy