here is Gina's story:
It's always Maude who bloody does it: changing the kitty litter; getting fresh loo roll from the stores below (fucking spiders); wiping clean the coffee table when Rob Kinmouth, Coco and Scritti fucking Politti have one of their 'intellectual nights' in the back of the Cat-tain's cabin. No one ever thinks about how important that stuff is though, do they? They take it for granted like everything else: who refills the milk saucer so they can have a freeflowing supply of milk all day? Who re-lays the scratching post? Who tidies up after the weekly squeeky mouse frenzy? And who hoovers around the ship's wheel?
But if Maude says something to anyone all she'll get is 'I did the brasso last week' from James H (three weeks James H, three weeks) or Mr 'If it wasn't for me this ship would be infested with rats' Pickles – he wouldn't know a mouse if he shat one through his left nostril.
Oh she's moaning again and then she feels bad again. Most of them are all right actually, Purrlock Holmes is nothing but utterly charming to her. He always stops to help her when the pasta machine jams. But then Holmes has never thought to make the pasta in the first place has he? At least Cloud Atlas has finally learned not to piss into the gas rings.
But why does it always end up the same way for Maude? When she saw the advert for this trip (What to change your life? Want to escape from the cat race? Want to see the world and discover yourself?) she thought things would change, she really did. It was time to move on, time to be the cat she knew she could be deep down. Oh who was she kidding?Perhaps Rob Kinmouth, Coco and Scritti Politti are right after all when they concluded last night's conversation with a poignant Chinese proverb: Do not remove a fly from your friend's forehead with a hatchet.