So a friend challenged me to write a story about Munch and a cat. I've been in a crappy mood all week, so I thought, why not? My first fic for any show. Be kind...or don't. It's your review.
Inspiration shoutouts: Nibblonians and their fight against the Brain Spawn, Philip J. Fry, Florida Man or Woman, and tin foil hats. No offense intended to the smart residents of Florida. :)
John Munch was in a mood. It had been one hell of a week in Special Victims. Actually, it had been one hell of a month. Special Victims had had its share of crazies and sickos over the years, but lately the crop had been too cream. First was a teacher caught twerking with her middle school students at a party. The victims of the twerk refused to testify against their favorite teacher and the parents eventually didn't even care to press charges. Then there was the groping Santa…in July. He'd never forget the flasher who held fast food workers hostage until he got a mint milkshake. There was a huge increase of parents "forgetting" their children in various places: hot cars, the bus, subway bathrooms, brothels, sex shops, and of course, in a cemetery while the mother had a midnight tryst in the mausoleum. The strange behavior even seemed to be infiltrating his own squad. The day before, Elliot suddenly got on top of his desk, declared his love for his partner in front of anyone who would listen, and ran out the door, saying he was on his way to get a divorce. Olivia thought he'd gone mad…but ran after him anyway, giggling.
New York had always been full of morons, but lately he had noticed more than just the average dumbing down of society. This was an all-out attack of idiocy. He just wasn't sure what, or who, was behind it. It wasn't just nature or Darwinism, he was sure of that. Some evil force of nature had its grips on his city.
And why was this damn cat following him everywhere? For the past four days, this grey tabby cat with small bells around its neck had been following John to and from work. She…or he…who the hell could tell…always stayed the same length back from him as he walked to and from the police building. It was almost as if the thing wanted to be his pet.
This night, the cat followed him clear to his front door. It usually stopped at the street.
"What do you want?" Munch asked, looking down at the cat.
"Meow," was all it said.
"Fine. One saucer of milk and then it's out the door for you." Munch unlocked the door and the cat ran inside.
He went to his kitchen and got out a bowl. He set it on the floor, got some milk out of the fridge, and poured a little in the bowl. The cat looked down at the offering. "You know, cats are lactose intolerant," it said in a deep male voice.
Munch looked around for a human. "Who said that?" he asked.
"Down here, genius," the cat said.
Munch looked down at his new friend. "You?"
"Yes. I talk. I actually speak several languages, but enough about me. We do not have much time."
Munch got down on the floor. "Much time for what?" he asked, still looking around for a speaker of some sort even though he saw the cat's mouth move.
"The city is under attack. Surely you have noticed."
"And then some," Munch agreed.
"You are the only being who can help. New York City is under attack from a virus that infests human brains, rendering them almost useless. It causes suffers to make idiotic decisions and show moronic behavior. It originated in Florida after a mysterious plane crash in the swamp."
"I knew something was going on! I knew it couldn't just be a full moon. People laughed when I told them it was all a conspiracy to ruin my year. Who's behind it? The government? Communists?"
"Aliens. They are from a small insignificant planet that my home planet tried to destroy some years back. The entire civilization, and I use the term loosely, of this rock is filthy and destructive. Their sole mission is to rid the universe of intelligence. My planet thought we wiped them out, but a few of the stronger of the species survived and managed to make their way to Earth. Perhaps you have seen the carnage they left behind in Florida. Intelligence there is almost extinct."
"Why are you telling me this?" Munch asked, quite intrigued.
"Because you are immune to the disease. You have a superior brain that resists any idiocy. You also understand how the human brain has already failed many in high positions."
"No arguing that."
"You are our only hope in stopping these destroyers of human kind. You can stand up to them and not be affected. Brain usage and intelligence renders their kind useless. You think, they die. Will you join the fight?"
Munch thought for a bit. He was disturbed by what was happening to people, especially Stabler, but would simply thinking and destroying an alien species really save humans from a life of stupidity? He couldn't be sure, but he just felt compelled to find out.
"I'm in," he told the cat.
"Excellent. We have no time to lose. Follow me." The cat ran to the door. Munch opened it and followed him into the unknown, hell-bent on saving New York.