A busy-looking tom strides onto the stage. The audience claps hesitantly and someone meows to their neighbor. Confusion is evident.

"Yada yada, welcome, blah, I'm Clear Sky and I'm taking over for Brick tonight. You're welcome suckers."

He clicks a button on the projector and growls. "StarClan curse this blasted thing," he muttered mutinously. Several mothers in the audience hissed and covered their children's ears. Clear Sky changed the screen to look a bit like this--

and then like this--

and finally like this.

Swearing blatantly, the tom dropped the projector, which broke with a resounding clang and split into eight metallic pieces that glowed in the spotlight. A she-cat yelled something from the audience, but it was censored. We apologize. Clear Sky turned to the audience. "Well, I guess no images," he grumbled in annoyance. "So basically this constellation is literally two lines, made of three stars. It's call Fornax, a terrible name."

He shook the projector hopefully, but nothing happened until he leaped back. A spark jumped from the projector to his paw, and he let out a screech of pain. "OWOWOWOWWOWOWOOWOWOWOWOWWOWO--"

Before his screech was done, the spark flickered into a flame and as he stamped it out, the rest of the floor caught fire. "WATER!!" he yelled desperately, blowing on the fire in a futile attempt to stop the flames. Scorch marks spread across the floor in black shadows and the light of the flames shone on the ceiling. The audience, far enough back that the flames didn't even cause heat, watched in interest.

Clear Sky's tail caught fire next, and by the time security rushed out and doused the fire, his fur was significantly singed. The audience burst out laughing and Clear Sky stood up shakily.

"Well," he croaked, "the constellation is a furnace and was discovered by a man named Lacaille in the eighteenth century, first called Fornax Chemica after a small chemical furnace." He broke out into a fit of coughing, and collapsed. More security rushed onto the stage and carried him out. Sirens wailed in the distance. Brick emerged from backstage, fur rumpled and coffe stains on his bow tie.

"I guess that's it," he remarked, and turned back around. No applause was given. The curtain closed.

that was boring im sorry
written by leopard