As usual, Turnipbutt the mothercat wanders the Ooorah Mothership in search of someone to play with or manipulate into giving him food. Turnipbutt, affectionately named such because his butt looks like a turnip, knows he will find the former with ease. All the Mothertroopers love Turnipbutt.

But what he is really looking for is the latter. Turnipbutt is starving. It's been twenty minutes since he last ate, and it was some stupid pâté—easily his least favourite of the four food groups (pâté, chunks floating in gravy, biscuits, and treats).

Life could be so unfair.

His wanderings take him to the Experimentation Chamber. The door is closed, something Turnipbutt absolutely loathes. He's told them many, many times to leave every door open, but do they listen? Turnipbutt howls at the door. Scrapes his fingernails down the metal obstacle before him. Cries some more, like he's at the brink of death—which he basically is—and won't someone please save him?

Finally, Dr. Snuggwell opens the door. She peers down at him. "What do you want, Turnipbutt?"

He meows, "I haven't eaten in daaaays," and rubs himself against her smooth legs.

"You're hungry again?"

"Yeeeeessssss!" Turnipbutt shouts, slinking his way into the Experimentation Chamber. He knows there's food in here. Dr. Snuggwell keeps a bowl for him in one of her desk drawers.

"Okay," she says, heading straight for her desk.

Then she stops and turns. "But you know my form of payment."

At this point, Turnipbutt is drooling everywhere, purring louder than the Mothership's ultradrive. It's uncivilized, but this is just how he is when food is involved.

Dr. Snuggwell holds her arms out to him.

He meows and jumps up to her warm embrace. She plants an unbearable number of kisses all over him and yet he loves it.

But eventually enough is enough. He's starving, and it's time to pay the piper. She lets him down and opens the drawer with the food bowl—and the food. He sees countless cans.

This excites him beyond belief. He lets out a kind of growl in approval. He's kneading the air. He doesn't know what to do, think, or say. He decides to jump up on the desk. Landing right on the keyboard.

"Turnipbutt, no!"

It's too late.

The supercomputer's making noises.

Something explodes in the corner of the room.

"Not the Flat Earth Simulator!" Dr. Snuggwell is on her knees, sobbing. "It's not ready for testing yet!"

Turnipbutt swooshes his fluffy tail against her arms and face. 

He meows, "Oops."