Plummet of the idgit

Back in time once again for another “Year One” chronicle from the Morgue of Antiquity:

02 JULY 1995 - Into the abyss

Alarm! All hands! Man overboard!

My pretty-boy moron of a brother has gone and gotten himself into another ridiculous predicament. Through his uncanny aptitude for infiltration of forbidden spaces, he managed to locate a point of egress from this tower in which we now find ourselves imprisoned. A notable accomplishment, except that this aperature only provides access to a short and precariously narrow stretch of scaffolding a perilous 70 or 80 haunch-spans over the hard, dark, sooty firmament below, with its hellish machinations and belching chariot-demons.

Many times now, I have watched with horror and disbelief as my acumen-deprived sibling recklessly sauntered the span of this precipice -- out one portal-slot and in the other, and looking downright smug about it. Only this time, the secondary slot (his intended ingress) happened to be well-secured, leaving him marooned high above that unforgiving eternity.

Realizing his situation, his first reaction -- of course! -- was to peer though the glass and meow plaintively to ME. Sure, brother, NOW you call upon your more prudent and deliberate half to come bail you out of this idiotic situation?

Not being hard-hearted, and feeling an utterly improbable sense of responsibility for this buffoon (who, incidentally, hogs all the food-pellets), I examined the sealed portal currently separating Fabio from a long and prosperous life. Latched properly. Not a thing to be done for him -- no humans about to summon for assistance, no means of fabricating an emergency escape hatch.

It was while I was giving the latching mechanism a thorough examination that I noticed Fabio was already in the middle of a mortifyingly ill-conceived maneuver. He was attempting to turn around in place, in order to work his way back to his original insertion point. Gauging the narrowness of the ledge in relation to the length of Fabio's body, I could see as mathematical certainty the inevitable result of this moronic contortion, and pressing my face and paws against the glass, all but begged him to reconsider.

And then, I confess that for the first time in my life, I was overtaken by a squeamish horror. I turned away, closed my eyes, and waited for the splat.

After a long moment, I chanced a glance back at the precipice, and sure enough, he was gone. Well, not GONE, as it turned out, for I then saw two claws still clinging to the ledge, and when I edged closer to the glass, beheld the pathetic spectacle of my brother, hanging desperately by his front paws, dangling over the abyss, and staring up at me, eyes bulging and mouth agape in terror. And oh how he then shrieked.

That pretty much brings us up to the present. Here we are, Fabio and I, separated by a pane of glass and the chasmal difference in our wits. He is STILL out there, still valiantly clinging to life, meowing pitifully, and I remain in here, safe and cozy, gazing in vigil down at this pathetic and desperate situation, wondering if maybe these's a chance he could pull...

Whoops. There he goes.

Wow. Damn. Well. That's that, I guess. Hm.

Oh well. He was a pain to look after, anyway. Guess that means more food for me.

*** UPDATE - AMENDMENT TO REPORT ***

Some six or seven hours after Fabio's plummet into destiny, the mad Dr. Poupolis returned to the lair, at which point I attempted to inform him of the tragic demise of my ill-fated sibling. I told the story in lavish detail and with all the dramatic flare that I'm sure Fabio would have wanted, yet the Doctor just stared at me blankly in total ignorance.

I repeated the tale, and although he did listen, I still detected no lantern of cognition in his eyes. Indeed, he responded by pouring pellets into my bowl. Dinner? DINNER?! Can you not hear the words coming out of my mouth, man?

So I ate. And then, tried a third time.

This time, he seemed to get the idea. Maybe it was the fact that Fabio wasn't clawing his way up the Doctor's leg, as per ritual, or maybe that a meal had just been eaten with dignity and grace, but whatever the clue that tipped him off, he finally took notice of Fabio's absence.

Quickly, I led the man over to the infamous portal overlooking Fabio's ledge of death. I looked out the window, then up at Dr. Poupolis. He STILL didn't get it. I gave him the most acerbic and exasperated of meows, looked AGAIN out the window, and AGAIN, pointedly, up at his bewildered face.

And I wondered, how, sir, is it that YOU have not managed to fall out this window by now?

Suddenly, then, it dawned on him. I saw the horror of understanding flash across his visage.

Correct, Doctor. FABIO HAS LEFT THE BUILDING.

He bolted from the lair with a speed and determination I would not ordinarily have credited in him. He will be fetching the carcass now, I thought, assuming the vultures have left anything for him to find. Not a pleasant task, but I steeled myself, in case I would be called upon to identify the flattened remains.

And then...

The Doctor returned. And there, seemingly stapled to his chest, puffing mightily and losing hair by the clump, was my brother -- shaken and scarred and covered in filth, but very much alive.

I am at a total loss to account for his survival, nor can I even begin to fathom what horrors and nightmares he witnessed and endured during his time in The Pit. All I can offer for posterity is the truism that FORTUNE FAVORS THE FOOLISH -- and never so generously as today.

And I would also be deliquent if I did not here record that within mere hours, my brother, this imbecile sine pari, was AGAIN out on that ledge.