A reboot of the iconic scifi-horror film upends the balance of power, placing the feline at the very top where he should be.
The long-anticipated Alien reboot starring Buddy the Cat hit theaters this weekend with audiences flocking to see the modernized classic after effusive praise from critics.
Featuring the new tag line “In space no one can hear you scream — unless you’ve got Buddy on your side,” the reboot reimagines the science fiction-horror classic as a cautionary tale about messing with cats.
“While the original built tension over almost two hours and inspired an overwhelming feeling of dread in viewers, the new Alien clocks in at just 28 minutes and ends right after the iconic chestburster scene,” critic Ferdinand Lyle wrote. “Instead of screeching into the shadows of the ship to commence its turbocharged metabolic processes, only to emerge later as a fully formed creature who terrorizes the crew, this alien is immediately caught by Buddy, who delivers a swift kill bite and deposits it in front of the humans. They reward him with a chorus of ‘Good boy!’ and rub his head while plying him with snacks, and the credits roll. Now that’s efficient storytelling!”
The Alien 👽 was no match for Buddy, who woke from a nap to dispatch the creature with brutal efficiency.
The new version is “the ultimate FAFO flick,” raved the AP’s Misty Lemire.
“The central message here is ‘Don’t tangle with Buddy.’ The apex predator of the cosmos is no match for the apex predator of Earth.”
Other critics were enamored with a post-credits dance scene featuring Buddy, the crew of the Nostromo and dozens of face-huggers who fly through the air, forcing the cast to bust impressive dance moves to avoid the dangerous creatures. At one point Buddy launches into a breakdance routine. The actress who plays Ripley wags a finger at a xenomorph and declares “You just got served!”
“It’s clever, light and wildly entertaining,” one critic wrote. “Buddy’s got some magnificent dance moves!”
Others praised Buddy for his impressive physique. In an interview with Entertainment Weekly, Buddy said he’d been training non-stop for eight months for the role, eating a high-protein diet and spending five hours a day napping in the gym to accentuate his meowsculature.
“The effort paid off big time,” a review from Calico Critics noted. “Buddy looks more ripped and impressive than he ever has, and he was already competing against a high bar he set during his previous films.”
In the post-credits dance scene, Buddy and the Nostromo crew perform a synchronized routine while dodging facehuggers.
However, not everyone was impressed. Reached this weekend at his New Zealand bunker, where he’s fled “until America isn’t annoying anymore,” director James Cameron called the Alien reboot “derivative, low-calorie cinema junk.”
“Remember when I had characters saying ‘Hasta la vista’ and ‘Adios, muchachos’? That was really cool. I was one bad hombre,” Cameron said. “Audiences might think this is a good film, but that’s because they haven’t seen the wonders of Avatar XVII yet. Just wait, it’s gonna be awesome. And there are no cats.”
In the seedy underbelly of Paw City, where niplords run kitty crack empires and feral gangs fight eternal turf wars, one unshakable detective brings the bad cats to justice.
The call came in after midnight.
Shots fired near Burmese Boulevard, with witnesses reporting one party fleeing the scene in a car while another took off on foot.
Normally I’d tend to other biz and let one of the kids in the detective bureau have their shot, but the commissioner’s on my ass and the mayor is worried about what the headlines will do to the tourism economy.
Leave it to the leaders of a dump like Paw City to care more about the scratch in their pockets than the felines they’re supposed to protect.
But I’m a grizzled detective. I know where the real power naps, and it ain’t city hall.
It’s Scratcher Tower, home of the international consortium that runs Big Yums, controlling the flow of every last morsel of kibble into this forsaken city. The Fat Cats on the top floor, they call the shots, control the mayor and have their paws in every pie. If it’s biz, the Fat Cats get their cut.
The feds? They talked a big game last year when they popped Angelo Felinzino and nailed him on a racketeering charge that earned him 15 to 20 in the slammer. But the Fat Cats are a hydra, and even though Felinzino was rumored to be the consortium’s top earner, the fellas in Scratcher Tower’s penthouse didn’t miss a beat.
It was pouring by the time I pulled up near the corner of Tortoiseshell Street and Burmese Boulevard. I padded out of the warm comfort of my ride, the Budmobile, and told it to watch my back. The Budmobile’s AI chimed in acknowledgement and miniature silos opened on each rear quarter panel, ejecting a pair of drones. One drone circled above me in a defensive posture while the other zoomed ahead, scouting my path.
I tasted wet rain and something else. My nose wrinkled, pulling me toward a funky scent. I crouched, sniffing the sidewalk, and that’s when I saw them: crumbs made soggy by the downpour, their addictive chemicals turning a shade of toxic lime as they interacted with the acid rain.
Tempheads are dangerous. They’ll do anything to get their fix, even if it means stealing from littermates or breaking into homes to raid the treat cupboards.
No Temphead was going to catch me off guard, I thought as I placed a paw on my holster and felt the reassuring grip of Thunderclaw. The old revolver was reliable and had legitimate stopping power. The sight of it alone was often enough to get bad guys to back down.
Lightning cracked the sky as I followed the crumbs down Burmese Boulevard, under the old wrought iron bridge and into a back alley.
I paused and sniffed. The Temphead had lingered here at the door to a shady-looking ripperdoc clinic, probably trying to get them to buzz him in. The ripperdoc was smart, didn’t want anyone bringing heat down on his clinic, so he turned the Temphead away.
My keen sense of smell and my detective’s intuition told me the Temphead quickly moved on, and sure enough, there were more crumbs ahead, where the alley made a sharp right turn toward a cross street.
I padded ahead, nose leading the way, and looked up.
The Bradbury Building.
Once a symbol of commerce in the city’s gilded age, now a dilapidated microcosm of Paw City, its former glory obscured beneath decades of grime and decay.
Patting Thunderclaw again for reassurance, I pushed against the heavy bronze doors and into the gloom inside.
My ears prickled in the funereal silence, and my whiskers felt movement in the air currents. There!
A shadowy figure was heading for one of the exits.
Justice is my job, and what kind of cat would I be if I didn’t have the swiftness of a cheetah and the bravery of a tiger?
I leaped the railing, landing gracefully on my feet as I always do, and followed the shadow through the door. The rain was coming down hard, battering my trenchcoat and cap.
Where’d that cat go?
He was clever, I’ll give him that. Lightning lit the alley, and he used the crackle of thunder to mask the sound of his feet splashing through the puddles before he leaped.
I never even saw it coming. It’s been a long time since anyone’s gotten the jump on me. Maybe I was too confident. The attacker barreled into me, knocking me off my feet, and was already propelling himself up a nearby fire escape as I landed in a puddle of rain water.
Thunderclaw was torn from my grip with the impact and went skidding across the concrete.
The Budmobile’s follow drone chose that moment to reappear, making a lazy loop around the alley before stopping to hover in front of me, its ventral nozzles firing whispers of propellant to keep it stabilized.
“Oh dear,” the drone said, “you seem to have fallen, sir. Shall I bring the car around?”
“This,” I told myself, “is undignified.”
The drone chimed.
“Is that a yes, sir?”
I resisted the urge to paw smack the useless machine.
“Yes! Call the Budmobile to the end of the alley.”
I might have been Paw City’s greatest detective, but I wasn’t going to catch criminals with my clothes and fur all wet, smelling like a dirty mutt.
I retrieved Thunderclaw from the ground, slipping the trusty revolver back into its holster.
That’s when I saw it — a scrap of torn clothing on the end of the fire escape, black as night. Black like the absence of light.
I ran a paw pad over the material, feeling its familiar weave and texture. There was only one shop in this section of Paw City that sold zero albedo clothing. Could the Shadow Void be back to stalk the seedy underbelly of Paw City once again? I put him in the slammer once. Now I may have to do it again.
I climbed back into the Budmobile, grateful for the blast of heat from its dash. It was time to pay Tommy the Tailor a visit…
Check back for the next episode of Detective Buddy: Feline Noir!
Buddy the Cat’s talents are innumerable! In this rousing number he slips into the style of Gilbert and Sullivan and uses verse to tell us what a feline should be.
“I am the very model of a feline so crepuscular My visage is so handsome and my meowscles are so muscular! I am a little tiger though the fact may seem improbable My knowledge is near boundless in all matters gastronomical I eat six meals a day in circumstances nominal For serving snacks when I demand, my human is responsible No challenge is impossible, no problem yet insoluble I am the very model of a feline so phenomenal!
I’m schooled in all biology from macro to subcellular A meowster of olfactory for every object smellular My hearing’s extrasensitive in low and higher frequencies I hear the mice a-chatter but the elephants don’t speak to me My style is more Big Punisher than Doctor Dre or Easy E Cuz when it comes to hip hop my tastes all face to easterly I like to shake my booty, I’m funky when I need to be I am the very model of a cat who does it easily!
I rule with iron paws be it jungle or the living room And when I’m finished dining, I am content to sit and groom When it comes to games I am the ultimate competitor Obligatory carnivore, I am a model predator Yet somehow cute and fluffy when I feel the need to be Mostly when I tell my buddy “Wake up, human, and feed me!
I am well-versed in big cats whether tiger or jaguarian And qualities of catnip like a feline rastafarian Intimidating surely, in my home I am the guardian Look dashing in a tux or the kit of a safarian! When it comes to ladies all the gents seek my analysis I designed the Taj Mahal and Cleopatra’s palaces I drink champagne from bottles and sip water from my chalices Then ignite sky with a range of borealises! A champion of Opens like the French, Aussie and Wimbledon My game is too complex for the tastes of canine simpletons
A predator so optimal, impeded by no obstacle When I’m roused to anger you will find me quite unstoppable Stylish with a monacle, calm and rarely volatile I am the very model of a feline so phenomenal!
I am the very model of a feline so phenomenal!
[Chorus of girls]
He is the very model of a feline so phenomenal! Find a better cat? Well that is just impossible! He is the very model of a feline so phenomenal!”
The gray tabby cat’s inaugural dance was sabotaged by former sitcom star Steve Urkel and the cousin of the Shamwow guy.
LOS ANGELES — After vowing to “dance circles around” his human competition and become the first feline winner of Dancing With The Stars, Buddy the Cat was unceremoniously sent home from the competition show following an argument with a judge.
Expectations were high when the celebricat was announced as one of a dozen famous booty-shakers on season 78 of the long-running series, especially after he was paired with Alina Gromova, a well-liked professional ballroom dancer who has three Mirrorball Trophy wins under her belt.
Hype reached a fever pitch with a regular trickle of short clips showing the partners practicing in the weeks leading up to the premiere, and the pair seemed to be in sync.
But their performance on the season’s inaugural broadcast left viewers and judges alike scratching their heads.
Things seemed to be going smoothly as Buddy and Gromova grooved to Jamiroquai’s Canned Heat, but quickly fell apart when fellow contestant David Ofer, second cousin of Vince “The Shamwow Guy” Ofer, dug into his pockets and tossed a handful of Temptations onto the dance floor.
Buddy’s head immediately snapped toward the direction of the crunchy, delectable, incredibly irresistible treats, and he shuffled his way over, vacuuming them up in a series of smooth motions with a flourish before joining hands with Gromova again.
White, the former sitcom star, conspired with Ofer to sabotage Buddy’s performance.
She recovered quickly, spinning and kicking in sync with her feline partner, but Jaleel White — who played Steve Urkel on the long-running sitcom Family Matters in the late 1980s and early 90s — was spotted surreptitiously crinkling a paper bag and misting one corner of the dance floor with catnip spray.
Buddy spun around and executed a series of Travolta-esque hip-twist-and-point maneuvers in the direction of the ‘nip scent. Gromova tried to keep him focused, but the frustrated feline rushed White and bit down hard on his foot as ripples of shock spread through the audience.
“Obviously, a bunch of the D-list contestants felt they couldn’t compete with Buddy’s charm and his mastery of movement, so they decided to sabotage him, the cowards,” one fan huffed in a reaction video on TikTok. “Buddy should be on his way to the second round while his saboteurs should be sent home.”
Other contestants — including the Guy From Limp Bizkit, Hawk Tuah Girl and Kanye West — were forced to wait while the judges tore into Buddy and the feline responded in kind.
“Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. What a terrible day to have eyes!” said longtime judge Len Goodman, shaking his head in dismay. “You call that a cha-cha?”
Steam jetted from Buddy’s swiveling radar ears.
“It was a cha-cha!” he spat back.
“Not in any universe I’ve lived in, dear fellow,” Goodman said.
“It was the definition of a cha-cha!” Buddy argued. “It had cha, and then even more cha! Cha in abundance! Look up ‘cha-cha’ in the dictionary and you’ll see a picture of me dancing in a bow tie. Now give me a 10 this instant!”
The camera caught Gromova pressing both hands to her temples while William Forrest, who played a Wookie in 1983’s Return of the Jedi, nervously waited for his chance to dance.
Eventually two burly security guards lumbered up to the stage and grabbed the gray tabby, who screamed in protest.
“I have friends at court! Powerful friends!” he shouted. “The Queen herself made me a lord!”
Lord Janos Slynt, seen here, was quoted by Buddy as the feline was escorted off the show. Credit: HBO
“What is he on about?” Goodman asked.
“I think that’s from Game of Thrones,” fellow judge Carrie Ann Inaba said. “When Lord Tyrion banished Lord Janos Slynt to the Wall, remember?”
“That was a good episode,” host Alfonso Ribeiro said.
While White and Ofer both advanced to the second round, former 1990s infomercial personality Billy Blanks, best known for his Tae Bo series of exercise VHS tapes, remained the odds-on favorite to become the celebrity winner this season.
Buddy the Cat wants his human to provide him with alternatives to his long-desired Roomba. Nothing fancy, of course.
Sept. 1, 2025 (11 A.B., or After Buddy) To: Big Buddy From: Little Buddy
Dear Buddy the Larger,
Since you have failed to secure a Roomba as my personal steed, as per my repeated demands, I have commissioned several other ideas for my personal conveyance.
Please find the enclosed image of a less complex, human-powered method of mobility fitting my station and status as an awesome feline. I have also attached an image of an appropriate seat designated for my use: humble yet regal, comfortable yet authoritative, offering supplicants the chance to to approach my feline personage while also clearly delineating the difference in power between myself, on my raised dais, and the lowly humans who seek my favor.
Note the dog pelt as a carpet beneath my throne…er, I mean my chair. Any dog who seeks an audience will be reminded that I’m, like, a jaguar and stuff, and they’d better be sufficiently deferential and pay tribute with delicious gifts.
Your friend and master,
Buddy
This design eschews all the complex and expensive machinery of a Roomba for good, old-fashioned human labor. I will require six Royal Buddy Guards: four to carry me at normal times, and six to carry me after I’ve feasted. I told the concept artist not to go too crazy with the ornamentation. Nothing too ostentatious, as you can see.
This design, inspired by Kublai Khan’s court in Khanbaliq (Cambulac), his winter capital. Unfortunately I couldn’t find much about the throne in his summer capital, Xanadu, but I have commissioned a designer to cook up something appropriate and will forward that to you shortly as well.
As you can see, nothing particularly fancy here, just good, sturdy, common sense necessities. I’m sure you’ll get right on it.
Pain In The Bud 