The Great Sky Lamp

It always comes for me when I’m at my most vulnerable.

Today is no different.

The Great Sky Lamp spills through the open window to warm my tum-tums, exposed and magnificent for all the humans to gaze upon with envy. They know better than to tickle my tum-tums with those deformed paws of theirs, their blunt scritchy-scritchers so inferior to my perfect pink razor-beans.

Only when Mama sprinkles my Special Treat across Mr. Mouse do I stretch to my full glory. She knows I do not rise for less than a full can of The Good Stuff, so she flicks Mr. Mouse across the floor. I pass him between my beans, rubbing my face into the sweet, minty aroma of my Special Treat.

Then, I am up.

I am flying.

I am The Great Sky Lamp.

I am in the glistening Forbidden Zone, and Mama—oh, Mama!—she is chasing me! I leap from between the rows of Not Those, latching onto the Get Off That before scrambling to the NOOO!!

I love the NOOO!! How it wobbles as I climb, higher and higher, and now Mama’s climbing, too! What fun!

Suddenly, there It is.

It.

Red.

Gleaming.

A tiny dot of menace shivering up the wall, following where Mama points her blunt scritchy-scritcher.

I know not what It is. Only that It must die.

I soar from the NOOO!!

My razor-beans tear It from the wall. I open my mouth, wide, ready to feast—but It is gone.

Foiled again.

Author’s Note

This story was originally produced for the NYC Midnight 250-word Microfiction Challenge 2024 semi-finals.

It placed in the top five of its group.