[ WP ] Earth 's number one export in the interstellar trade are sentient , designer house-cats , which are enormously popular as pets across the galaxy . You run a small cattery .

*Aw shit, not this guy again* 
 
 `` Good afternoon, Mr. Tarley.'' 
 
 The last few months, the Intergalactic Confederation's Health and Safety Administrator has been on my ass about all this regulation bullshit. I run a business, a very successful one at that, and I do n't have time to deal with this again. 
 
 `` It's been a little while since our last visit, we just wanted to see how you have been conducting business here.'' 
 
 Yeah right, if 2 weeks can be consider'a little while' you jackass. 
 
 `` All right then, I guess I'll give you the usual tour.'' 
 
 We walk out of the main lobby and onto a shuttle. I always take him straight to the employee lounge first, they eat that shit up, love seeing us'treat our employees right'. 
 
 We step out of the shuttle and into the lax looking lounge. We had to take the vending machine out last year because apparently Earth-made soda can be considered poisonous by alien standards, it's all just bullshit. 
 
 `` It's nice to see you treat your employees right.'' 
 
 `` Yes we value a positive work environment here at CatCo.'' God I hate this guy. 
 
 
 We hop back onto the shuttle ( well, he kind of dragged himself on, considering his slug-like lower half. I wish they would send a human to do these inspections, so much easier to deal with. ) Next we visit the research department, which is probably the most questionable safety-wise of our stops. 
 
 `` Alright, here's where we run all our cat scans.'' 
 
 I chuckle as I realize how fucking hilarious I am. 
 
 
 Our head researcher Brian is at a microscope doing God-knows-what, his team is at the tub with digipads taking notes, where we conduct experiments. 
 
 `` Alright everybody,'' I loudly announce. `` Inspection time, Mr. Administrator here is gon na be looking around, so just go about your research.'' 
 
 They've got an Egyptian Mau in the tub, which is currently serving as a wind tunnel for whatever reason. It amazes me how little I know about what these people actually do. 
 
 `` Right now we are just gaging this new breeds reaction to various climates.'' 
 
 It is at this point that I notice that there is in fact, not an Egyptian Mau in the tub, but an Egyptian Mau with six legs and the ears of a Great Dane. 
 
 `` Hey Brian, whatcha looking at over there?'' 
 
 `` Lion sperm,'' he casually says without looking up from his scope. 
 
 `` And where did you obtain this lion sperm?'' The slugbutt asks. 
 
 `` Do n't worry Administrator, we get such fluids naturally from the farm.'' 
 
 It amazes me how little he knows despite having been here nearly a dozen times. After a little bit of prodding around he sees there's nothing to bust us on at the moment, so we move on to the sales department. 
 
 `` As you know, this is where the real magic happens. All these hard workers making stacks of dough by the hour.'' 
 
 Sluggington, as usual, is not impressed. He strolls, or, I guess, rolls, over to one of our newest telemarketers. Shit, I've seen this guy work, I was planning on firing him. Oh well, at least we are n't being graded on efficiency. 
 
 He presses his finger to the side of his ear. `` CatCo, this is George.'' 
 
 Me and slugbug get out of the way as the face of a Trymorgian pulls up as a hologram. 
 
 `` Yepth I wuhd lahk a Buhrmethe.'' 
 
 `` A Burmese? Male Female or Asexual? And uh, alright sir, can I, uh, get an address for that?'' 
 
 `` Athecyool Pthector 3, Trimorg 2, bokth 745329801.'' 
 
 `` Alright sir, that will be, uhhhh, 312 units. Your house cat will be sent to you as soon as the payment is received. Would you like insurance for that?'' 
 
 But he had already ended the call. Alright dickbrain, you managed not to fuck one up. The universe is always getting more fast paced, so I enjoy our quick and easy order and delivery. The Administrator takes a few minutes asking some employees questions about their work as I sit in the back. 
 
 `` It appears we are finished in this department.'' 
 
 `` Great, on to the farm.'' 
 
 Now we are on our way to my pride and joy, the bread and butter of this whole operation. We step out of the shuttle onto the balcony attached to a lift which looks over the entire farm. 
 
 `` Got ta love the farm,'' I say with glee. 
 
 The farm is nowhere near what a farm actually looks like. It's sectioned off by giant plexiglass walls, each devoted to a breed. The far side is where breeding goes down, and that's always where slimepit wants to go. We go down the lift and onto another shuttle which takes us straight to the other end. 
 
 We call it breeding but it's really more like cloning. Our group of specialists extract the right materials from our feline friends and a Petri dish, data entry into our system, and several hours later we have got ourself a kitty. 
 
 Luckily the administrator came at a time when we were primarily in data entry. Twice he has come during extraction and I've got a feeling that's why he has n't left is alone quite yet. 
 
 `` Everything seems to be in order here, I'll just check some data and go.'' 
 
 
 He looks into our computer system and pretends to know what all the numbers mean. He appears satisfied so we walk back through the farm so that he can look at each breed section. He does n't find anything cause there's nothing to find. We get onto the lift and then the shuttle and find ourselves back in the main lobby. 
 
 `` Nothing to report on this time Mr. Tarley. Have a pleasant day.'' 
 
 `` Thanks for stopping by.'' 
 
 I let out a heavy sigh once I realize he's gone. He keeps getting more and more curious. One day he will find us out. He will ask to see that last stop on the shuttle that should n't be there and he will know what we've been doing. 
 
 That will be a cat-astrophe.
