(A high wind sends a garbage can lid plunging from a dizzying height onto a tree-lined street. Two keen-eyed cats sit at a living room window and observe the phenomenon. The larger cat, Harvey, turns to his brother, Pooka.)
Harvey: What d’ya figure that was all about?
Pooka: I don’t think you have to be Mensa material to see we’re being invaded by aliens.
Harvey: Mexico or Canada?
Pooka: Very funny! I’m giving you the mental middle finger, Mr. Jerry Lewis. Let’s go out and see if they come in peace. Or, more to the point, if they’re edible.
(Cats exit house through front doorway after effortlessly opening door. They approach lid and sniff it.)
Pooka: Come out! (To Harvey) They must be incredibly small. More of a snack than a full-course dinner, I’d say.
Harvey: I don’t see a door in this spacecraft. Maybe we could devour the aliens, spacecraft and all.
Pooka: Did you say "we"?
Harvey: Good grief! What an appetite! Who are you: Marlon Brando?
Pooka: Again, Harve, Brando is no longer with us. Get a grip. But regarding my appetite, you know I have a fast metabolism. It makes me ravenous! Is that my fault?
(During this exchange, a dog wanders over and paws the garbage can lid. It rolls down the street.)
Pooka: (Sarcastically) Great! Thanks, Fido!
Dog: My name isn’t Fido. It’s Spartacus.
(Animals assemble nearby and each one stands as it delivers its line below.)
Squirrel: No, *I’m* Spartacus!
Pigeon: *I’m* Spartacus!
Earthworm: *I’m* Spartacus!
Pooka: Hilarious. C’mon, Harvey, let’s go back inside and raid the refrigerator. Kae will never miss that chocolate cake.
Harvey: What about the aliens?
Pooka: I choose to look at it this way. Aliens are like grapes. They’re probably sour, anyway.
(Cats turn, tails held high, and head toward house.)
Harvey: What d’ya figure that was all about?
Pooka: I don’t think you have to be Mensa material to see we’re being invaded by aliens.
Harvey: Mexico or Canada?
Pooka: Very funny! I’m giving you the mental middle finger, Mr. Jerry Lewis. Let’s go out and see if they come in peace. Or, more to the point, if they’re edible.
(Cats exit house through front doorway after effortlessly opening door. They approach lid and sniff it.)
Pooka: Come out! (To Harvey) They must be incredibly small. More of a snack than a full-course dinner, I’d say.
Harvey: I don’t see a door in this spacecraft. Maybe we could devour the aliens, spacecraft and all.
Pooka: Did you say "we"?
Harvey: Good grief! What an appetite! Who are you: Marlon Brando?
Pooka: Again, Harve, Brando is no longer with us. Get a grip. But regarding my appetite, you know I have a fast metabolism. It makes me ravenous! Is that my fault?
(During this exchange, a dog wanders over and paws the garbage can lid. It rolls down the street.)
Pooka: (Sarcastically) Great! Thanks, Fido!
Dog: My name isn’t Fido. It’s Spartacus.
(Animals assemble nearby and each one stands as it delivers its line below.)
Squirrel: No, *I’m* Spartacus!
Pigeon: *I’m* Spartacus!
Earthworm: *I’m* Spartacus!
Pooka: Hilarious. C’mon, Harvey, let’s go back inside and raid the refrigerator. Kae will never miss that chocolate cake.
Harvey: What about the aliens?
Pooka: I choose to look at it this way. Aliens are like grapes. They’re probably sour, anyway.
(Cats turn, tails held high, and head toward house.)