Once again morning arrived to find Garfield, the rotund orange cat, sprawled under his blanket, arms and legs akimbo. He rose to his feet and groggily scratched his head, then began his morning hunt for coffee. His favorite mug was right where it always was, it was light-blue and said "I Hate Mondays!" on the side, but when he got there the coffee pot was bare—no coffee inside. His disheveled personage registered sharp dismay. "Grrr" he thought to himself.

Jon, his owner, would pay dearly for this affront. The hapless buffoon was seated on the couch, observing a television program with wide, staring eyes. Garfield advanced upon him, snatching up the lapels of his pyjamas and administering a series of vicious slaps to Jon's face. "Where" SLAP "is" SLAP "my" SLAP "coffee" SLAP. Jon's eyes went googily and he slumped in his seat.

Just then Garfield heard the news: A coffee shortage had been reported in all urban centers, with no foreseeable end in sight. Hoarding had already begun and the National Guard had been called in to quell several violent uprisings. At this moment the sarcastic pet knew that his destiny was calling him once again and so he swung into action.

"I'm off to save the planet, Jon," he muttered as he gathered his effects. "Don't wait up."

But Garfield felt a pair of eyes upon him then, it was Pookie, his loyal teddy bear and confidant. "No Pookie… this one's too dangerous," Garfield moaned, for he knew that the bear had the power to bend his will. "Alright, you can come along… just stay close and stay out of the way!" The bear made no noticeable reply.

Up Garfield climbed, to the roof where his fighter jet awaited. But this would be no dogfight, he knew. His destination was the salt flats of Patagonia, where he would descend into the depths of the fabled coffee mines. Who could say what dangers awaited him there, but Garfield cared not for the whims of this mortal world. His ears were cocked backward and now he was on the mission.

ZOOM went the airplane and he was there in a flash. He hopped out with Pookie following close behind because he was dragging the bear. Into the mine he leapt and flashed his teeth dangerously, but no monster did he see. Deeper and deeper he delved until he arrived at the Earth Core where a surprising site lay before him, it was Former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher laying comatose on a stone block, attended by various elves and doolings.

"Former Prime Minister, I ought to have known it was your black magic behind this catastrophe," Garfield remarked, and the little people of the mine beseeched him. "Noble cat, restore her life to her! We are too stupid," which was totally true.

Garfield knew it was his time, and he flexed his paws in preparation for the surgery. Pookie was by his side, suddenly attired in a nurse outfit. "Scalpel," Garfield commanded, but the bear did not respond. "Damn you, Pookie," he said, "you'll be out of this ER in nine seconds flat if you don't hand me the scalpel," but still the bear did not obey.

Time had run short and Garfield knew he was losing the patient. Soon it would be all over. "Dammit!" he cried in his hour of need. "Live, dammit! Live!" he thumped upon her chest with all his might, hot tears springing to his eyes, because it was true he was still in love with the Former Prime Minister.

"GUUUUUHHH!!" She suddenly sucked in a breath and coughed, dislodging a piece of lasagna that had lodged in her throat. It landed on the floor and Garfield ate it greedily since he missed breakfast. "Garfield I owe you my life and allegiance," she declared, and all around there went up a mighty shout because the surgery was such a success.

Coffee soon flowed through all the highways and byways of the world once again and Garfield's lust for the bitter brew was quenched for another day, Nermal went to the doctor a little bit later.

CHAPTER DONE