Cassielocks and the Three Cylons
By Erin Gieg <giegabyte@connect.ab.ca>
October 6, 1999

     Once upon a battlestar, there lived a family of Cylons. There was
Papa Cylon, with his patronizing voice and extra large frame.  Next was
Mama Cylon, having a low, gentle modulation for a voice (aww c'mon-call
it creative license or something!) and a medium-sized carapace.  The
third Cylon was baby, the littlest one, with a ridiculous voicebox that
had a few bugs, resulting in many squeaks and whistles that broke up his
speech.
     One cycle, after Mama Cylon had finished making breakfast (porridge
of course - but who need milk?), the family poured it into their bowls,
set the jug of oil (quasi-milk, k?) on the table, and went out for a
walk.  Naturally, Mama Cylon had made the porridge too hot, and so the
family decided to let it cool off for a bit, so that it would not destroy
their sensors.
     On the edge of the battlestar, there lived a girl named Cassielocks,
so named for her golden hair.  (Now I know what you're thinking - there's
nothing about gold or yellow hair in that name - but it just sounds good,
so go with it!)
     Anyway, one cycle (the same cycle as the Cylons earlier in the story
[shocking, I know]), Cassielocks was sent out to - play?  Nah, she's too
old for that.  She went to the marketship to find some breakfast - yeah
that's it.  During her walk to the docking bay, she came across an oddly
built little house (that's right, a house) in the middle of an empty bay. 
She noticed that the door was open, and being too curious for her own
good, she went inside.
     A nice bland smell came from the kitchen area (can you tell I'm not
a fan of porridge?), and being hungry still, Cassielocks decided to try
some.  She grabbed the pitcher of oil and dumped some of it on the
largest bowl.
      Before she could see what it was she had poured on the cereal, she
took a spoonful and popped it into her mouth.  A second later, she
realized what an awful flavor it had, and the mouthful came spewing out
all over the table.  (Bad manners, Cassielocks.)
     "Well," she said.  "I won't be putting any of that horrid milk on
the next bowl."
     Then she sighed.  "Just as well; it was too hot anyway."
     She moved to Mama Cylon's bowl of porridge and took a somewhat
smaller bite.  She swallowed the mouthful with a gulp.
     "Ugh," she said.  "Too cold."
     (Now, this porridge all came out of the same pot, right?  Anyway,
moving right along.)
     Finally, Cassielocks decided to try the smallest bowl, and to her
surprise, after the last two bowls, this cereal was just right.  So she
ate it all up.
     After all that, she was quite tired, so she looked for a chair to
rest in.  (Now what was wrong with the chair she was sitting in to eat
the porridge, you might ask?  Well I'll tell you........I don't know!)
     "Oh look at all the nice chairs," she said as she entered the living
area.
     She sat down on the first chair, but it was much too hard.  Next,
she sat in the middle chair, but it was too soft.  (Now I ask you, when
you're tired and want to sleep, can a chair be too soft?)
     So she tried the small chair, but she proved to have too much weight
for the poor seat.  With a loud 'crack', Cassielocks found herself on her
bottom.
     Seeing a flight of stairs, the girl headed up and found a nicely
decorated bedroom.  There were three beds in a row.  Cassielocks decided
that since the chair thing didn't work out, she would try the beds.
     She climbed up onto the first one, but couldn't get comfortable, as
it was much too hard.  Then she tried the medium bed, but found herself
lost amid the pillows.
     "Too soft," she declared, then spent another ten microns trying to
climb out. 
     Lastly, she tried the littlest bed, and it was perfect.  Cassielocks
soon fell asleep.
     By this time, the three Cylons had tired of tramping through the
brush and catching dew.  (Well it's classic - they go for a walk through
the forest.)
     "Drat," Papa Cylon said.  "I'm going to get rust spots."
     "Oh, dear," Mama Cylon put in.  "You're just as shiny as ever."
     They got to the kitchen and got a good sensor sweep of the table.
     "Someone has consumed some of my porridge," Papa Cylon droned.
     Then Mama Cylon piped up.  
     "Some of mine has disappeared as well.
     Baby Cylon upended his bowl in a bratty motion.
     "Mine is all gone," he whined.
     Now that the Cylons knew that someone had intruded upon their home,
Papa Cylon became wary.  They all tramped into the living area.  Papa
Cylon sensed the heat residue on his seat.
     "Someone has rested on my chair," he said.
     By now, Mama Cylon was getting owly.  (Perhaps it was an emotion
chip - or maybe it was from thinking of the mess she'd have to clean up!)
     "Can't have been for long - that chair of yours is so
uncomfortable," she said.
     "Yes, well, yours is positively wimpy!" Papa Cylon shot back. 
     (What's this?!  A pair of Cylons arguing?  Well, in my stories,
anything is possible <BEG> ...back to the argument!)
     "Anyway, someone has used my chair too," Mama Cylon continued,
blithely ignoring the comment.
     Baby clumped over to check his.
     "Somebody was sitting in my chair - and broke it!" he whined.
     Now Papa Cylon was getting really upset.  He led the way upstairs.
     He stomped over to his bed and noticed something or other that was a
mili-metron off.
     "Someone has used by bed," he fairly roared.
     Mama Cylon noticed the mess that Cassielocks had made trying to
extricate herself from her bed.
     "Someone has slept in my bed," she said, thinking of all the time it
would take her to clean up.
     Then baby Cylon saw Cassielocks.
     "Someone was sleeping in my bed too!  And she's still here," he
shrieked, his voicebox crackling and squealing a few times.
     Cassielocks half woke up and reached over and gave baby Cylon a
large smack on his head.
     "That's not my alarm clock," she said.
     Cassielocks sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes.  As soon as those
eyes had focused, she realized that there were three Cylons, standing
around her, staring.
     Cassielocks screamed and leapt off the bed, scrambled down the
stairs and out the door, and ran all the way home.  When she was curled
up on her bed, she stopped shaking.  Then she abruptly sat up.
     "Hey," she said to no one in particular, "I should report those
Cylons!
     They can't live on a Colonial Battlestar!"
                                THE END