Just to be Clear, the Narrator is a Human

Here's an absurd little piece I made for an assignment.  Please don't hesitate to voice all comments and criticisms you may have.  And in case you asked, progress is going, but slow on Into the Crust.  It'll be here eventually :)

I left my makeshift shelter amongst the rocks and walked through the tall grass on the west of the block. I reached the spotted gum, the smell of mint wafting in from the garden. I thumped lightly on the ground.

Luckily for me, the ant queen enjoyed music. She wouldn’t talk to me directly but sent a worker out.

‘Sure, we have a battalion we could exchange for the iPod,’ she said.

Hopefully I would have succeeded long before the battery ran out.

‘Hide!’ the worker ant yelled. I dived under the shadow of the tree. Above our heads, Bluey the budgerigar circled, watching for intruders. He would alert the cats in the house if he saw me, so the reconnaissance mission would have to happen that night.

***

When the sun fell, the battalion and I sneaked to the laundry door. The smell was terrible.

‘All the kitty litter must be in there,’ I whispered, feeling smug that they still couldn’t change their trays. Thank God for opposable thumbs.

A noise like kudump kudump alerted me to the arrival of Bowser, the golden retriever who had offered to help.

‘No other humans in miles, sorry boss.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ we all said.

‘What are you doing here?’ Bowser said in his pretend hush.

‘The battalion are going to assess the state of the laundry and hopefully open the doggy door.’

‘Boss,’ said Bowser, ‘there’s a sad cat in there. I can smell him.’

Interesting, I thought.

‘With enough of you,’ I said to the ants, ‘could you carry a cat?’

‘Yes, commander!’ they said eagerly.

***

When the ants had returned, Tabs, the laundry cat, pleaded with me. Mr Bubbles, the ringleader of the revolution, had enforced a strict dictatorship.

‘He sits at the couch lapping milk and watching Indiana Jones marathons while we starve,’ said the laundry cat. ‘I just want things the way they were.’

‘Here’s the plan,’ I told him, ‘I can feed you what little I have out here if you be our inside man, um, feline. And when you get the chance, splash some water on Mr Bubbles. That should distract him long enough for me to get inside and end this nightmare.’

I may have had to sleep outside for yet another night, but I was one step closer to recapturing the house.