Wonder

The workmen stood around, looking at the big pile of dirt they had created. They had only meant to dig a small hole in which to bury their master's cat, but they had got a little bit carried away.
'What shall we do with it?' said Workman#1 to Workman#2.
'Make it into a large, tetrahedral structure?' suggested Workman#2.
'Perhaps we'd better fill it in before anyone notices,' said Workman#3.
'Before anyone notices?!' said Workman#1. 'It's 300 foot high!'
The three workmen put their hands on their chins, looked up at the pile of dirt and sighed.
The cat which they were supposed to be burying sashayed up to them, rubbed itself against Workman#1's leg and purred.
'Eh?' said Workman#1.
'It's alive!' said Workman#2.
'It's a miracle!' said Workman#3.
'The gods have favoured us!' said Workman#2.
'The gods are having a laugh!' said Workman#1. 'What the fuck are we supposed to do with it, now?!'
'The cat?' said Workman#2.
'The cat, the pile, the enormous hole...' said Workman#1. 'The boss is gonna kill us!'
'Well at least we've got a h--' started Workman#3, before Workman#1 gave him a look which implored him not to finish the sentence.
The three workmen put their hands on their chins, looked down at the cat and sighed.
The cat swished its tail back and forth, weaved amongst the six legs and looked up at their owners with big, innocent eyes.
'There's only one thing for it,' said Workman#1.
'What's that?' said Workman#2.
'We're going to have to kill it.'
The cat purred, swished and weaved some more, then rolled onto its back and displayed its furry belly for the rubbing thereof.
'We can't kill it!' said Workman#2.
'Why not?' said Workman#1.
'It's - she's - the master's cat!'
'It's the only solution,' said Workman#1. 'We're going to have to kill it, stick it in the hole, fill it in, then create some sort of enormous shrine or something with all the leftover dirt.'
'Aww crap,' said Workman#3.
'What?' said Workman#1.
Workman#3 pointed at the cat, which had now given up on the prospect of having its belly rubbed and was proceeding to do a crap on Workman#1's shoe.
'Filthy! Bastard! Moggy!' said Workman#1... and upon the word 'moggy,' he scooped up the aforementioned defecating feline with his foot, flung it forward, and, with a sickening crunch, it landed in the middle of the enormous hole.
It was then that Workman#4 came scootling up to the scene with a piece of papyrus in his hand.
'What's that?' said Workman#1.
'It appears,' said Workman#4, after he had stopped and caught his breath, 'that there has been a small error.'
'What kind of error?' said Workman#1.
Workman#4 glanced over at the hole in which the unmoving cat now lay. 'It appears,' he said, 'that the master's cat' - he noticed the faecal matter on Workman#1's shoe - 'is not dead.'
'Not dead, you say...' said Workman#1, as he began to stroke the previously unmentioned little pointy beard on his chin.
'Not,' said Workman#4, as he glanced once more at the hole, then the pile of dirt, then the piece of papyrus he held (all in the space of about 0.3 of a second), 'dead.'
'Okaythankyouoffyougonow,' said Workman#1.
'But what about the--'
'Tootle off now,' said Workman#1, as he waved Workman#4 away the way you would wave away... ooh, I dunno... a cat or something.
Workman#4 tootled off.
The three workmen put their hands on their chins (all except Workman#1, who already had his hand on his chin), looked into the enormous hole and sighed.
'Quick, fill it in,' said Workman#1 to his colleagues.
'What?' said Workman#2 and Workman#3.
'The hole!' said Workman#1. 'Fill it in!'
'But what about the--' said Workman#2.
'Deny everything. Admit nothing. Cats run away all the time. Now fill in the fucking hole!' Workman#2 and Workman#3 did so, while Workman#1 supervised.
'Good,' said Workman#1. 'Now make a humongous tetrahedral structure with the leftover dirt.'
Workman#2 and Workman#3 did so, while Workman#1 supervised.
'Hang on,' said Workman#3; 'how come you're just standing there, telling us what to d--'
'Button it,' said Workman#1, 'if you want to live. Now grab some of those spare bricks - the great big ones over there - and stick 'em all round the sides... yes, that's it... just in case any of the master's other pets get any funny ideas about digging around.'
Workman#2 and Workman#3 did so, while Workman#1 supervised.
'Excellent!' said Workman#1. 'Now like I said... deny everything, admit nothing. And if anyone asks, aliens came in on their fiery chariots, plonked it there, then pissed off.'
'Aliens?' said Workman#2.
'Or the gods or something. Just don't mention the fucking cat!' 'Okay,' said Workman#2.
'Okay,' said Workman#3.
'Well that was a good day's work,' said Workman#1, as he brushed the non-existent dirt of his hands. 'Who's coming for a pint?'
'Sorry,' said Workman#2; 'can't. I promised the wife I'd help with the preparations for the Festival of Ra celebrations.'
'And I've got roped into painting the Pharaoh's royal barge,' said Workman#3. 'Again.'
'Suit yerselves,' said Workman#1. 'Youse two cramp my style anyways' - at which he got onto his camel and rode off into the desert, wiping his shitty sandals on the dromedary's side as he went.

* the end *