“A new world order is due! No one else will step up, so we must! This planet, in a state of nearly irreversible CRAP , will die if we don’t do something! So we take over!”
An echo of excited meows rings through the crowd. Mr. Skiffers has put up quite the speech. This cat-ruled world will soon be. And I can’t complain, being a cat myself. But what of the humans? Will they stay our caretakers, only we own them openly instead of letting them think they own us? How should I know? I’m a cat. A cat that will soon be the secretary of the highest authority figure on the planet, but a cat nonetheless. But I like it. So I go with it, this idea of a world free of the disgusting dogs, just like Egypt again… like my parents’ parents’ parents’ parents’ (I could go… and go…) told the generations below them. I poke my head out from behind the typewriter.
“Uhm,” I start timidly, raising my paw a bit, making him turn around, “please don’t think poorly of me for this, sir, but, um, h-how do you plan to rule them?”