Daisy Bateman

The Cute Streets: Tales of a Roomba Kitten

It’s an adorable city. A cute, fuzzy, adorable city. But sometimes, sometimes things happen that are just a little too adorable. That’s where I come in

My name is Mipsy, and I’m a kitten. I ride a Roomba.

It was another perfect Tuesday, and I was sitting in the office, shooting the breeze with my partner Nipsy (no relation) when the call came in. It came from the Chief’s office, so we went over to see what the shouting was about.

Our Chief, Mr. Flufferwinkles, looked up at us from his ball of string.

“Mipsy, Nipsy, glad you’re here. We’ve had a case just come in.” He batted a folder full of papers around on the floor. “Cokes have been exploding and going flat all over the city. We think the Diver Boys may be involved. I want you two to look into it.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” I said. “Where do we start?”

“Try under the big tree. There’s always something shady going on there. And take the new recruit with you. he needs some time in the field.”

“If you say so, Chief.”

“And, kittens, be careful. It’s sticky out there.”

The new recruit, M’Lady’s Duke of Wigglesworth (we called him Fred) was so fresh his eyes had barely opened. While Nipsy tried to get him to stop romping around for long enough to explain the case, I snuck a few laps from the dish of cream I kept under my desk. It was shaping up to be another one of those days.

We headed out to our ride, a silver original-model Roomba with extra brushes, backup batteries and stealth mode. Not the prettiest girl on the lot, but she corners like a dream, and never falls down the stairs.

We started off towards the field, and immediately Fred was a problem.

“I wanna sit in front! I wanna see! Can I drive? Can I?”

He didn’t understand about riding a Roomba, about how the sides slope down and how it turns whenever it meets an obstacle. Which is why he was bouncing around like a fool, which is why he slipped and fell off, and rolled down into a pile of leaves.

“No!” Nipsy cried. “We lost him!”

“Oh no we didn’t,” I said, turning the Roomba around by batting at the sensor. “We’re going back.”

“But he’s gone!”

“Dammit, Nipsy, no kitten left behind! Not this time!”

To Be Continued. . .

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