Pour a beer out for Harry Truman (not the president), who has been drifting through space for 44 years … with his 23 cats and 500 tons of chili, in that fragment of the mountain where he stole away to a cave to save his cats and chili and whiskey … probably met VEEGER out there on that elliptical orbit. Now he’s returning, for PAY BACK!
In 1987, Harry and his cats, wearing space suits made of duct tape and discarded newspaper, explored an abandoned space cruiser from JINGO-PRIME in the DELVIC-REGION of the galaxy. Though the crew were all dead, bodies apparently melted, one of the droog-creatures had left some nasty machine on, and all 23 cats jumped in … after a few moments they didn’t need no space suits no more, because they’d been turned into SPACE CATS with hyper intelligence – but still cats. Harry didn’t know what to do, he still loved them little demons.
In 1994 his rocky asteroid like capsule coasted by MARS, and his super cats went down to check out the Martian bones. They knew the secret, and were busy etching shit, and dropping clues that lead nowhere. The cats told Harry that “dinosaur bones” were a PUNK, and placed there by aliens to fuck with people … the cats knew things, and their robot hearts were now burning with a sense of vengeful mischief – a generalized anger toward the human gumptous freaks, and a desire to enslave the human race in a Feline Kingdom of kitty rule …
That chunk of rock is near now … maybe tonight … maybe next year.
Harry and his cats and space crabs are coming …
Are you ready?