((Author Notes: Blame for this fic, er I mean, this is dedicated, to all the SportaRobbie writers here who put lovely ideas into my head. Also, darn you all for making it look so easy, and making me want to play, too.))

Yet another loud thump followed by more grating giggles caused Robbie to grit his teeth and growl. The brattlings and their pet blue thing seemed extra loud today, if that was even possible. Of course, they somehow always knew whenever he had a particularly sensitive invention to perfect and increased their frolicking accordingly.

It was entirely probable that they were at their loudest and most irritating today, as his most current mechanical masterpiece was his most delicate contraption to date.

The Re-Configurator was no less than sheer brilliance. Once completed it could change something into anything else. The possibilities were endless. He could change all that odious fruit into cupcakes! He could transform those noisy children into quiet little church mice. Perhaps he could even transform that loathsome Sport-a-dork into a tolerable person.

Robbie sneered. Perhaps he wouldn't pull off the last one. Even science had its limitations. Maybe a nice silent doorstop would be in order instead.

He was so wrapped up in his pleasant daydream that the loud thump and chorus of shrieking giggles from above startled him so much that his hand slipped and he jammed a very delicate piece of circuitry into the wrong slot.

"Aargh!" He snarled and glared at the ceiling. He threw down his pliers and shook his fist.

"You laugh and play now, but soon you'll rue the day you hovered over my town, Sport-a-creep!"

He was so caught up in his tirade; he failed to see the chain of events set off by the discarded pliers. The pliers hit a jar of bearings, knocking it over and sending bearings rolling off onto the floor. One lone bearing rolled a little to the left only to bump into a stack of precariously placed cogs sending the cog on top hurtling down on top of a ruler laid carelessly on a pencil. This created and ideal springboard to launch a screw that just happened to be resting on one end of the ruler. The screw flew through the air and soundly hit a large purple button on the Re-Configurator.

The light and noise of the machine powering up finally grabbed Robbie's thoughts away from his vengeance rant. He blinked at it in surprise for a moment before he realized that the device was pointed directly at him.

He tried to run from his creation, but the bearings rolled under his fleeing feet and allowed him only to run in one place. A high pitched whine and quite a few sparks were emitted before a beam of orange light hit him square in the chest.

Robbie flew back from the force and hit the ground hard. His world went black before he had a chance to see his beautiful machine cut out with an ominous puff of dark smoke.

It could have been minutes or hours later when Robbie finally stirred. His head felt like it was stuffed with killer bees and his entire body ached. He tried to move, but had apparently been lying in a very awkward position. For some reason his limbs didn't want to move properly.

The room looked off to his half-opened eyes. As he carefully opened his eyes the rest of the way, minding the pain in his head while he did, the view got even stranger.

The ceiling above him seemed much farther away than usual. In fact, everything looked farther away. And larger. Much larger. He blinked furiously trying to clear his eyes and get a better look at his surroundings. There was an odd washed out look to the room that had nothing to do with his lovely villainous décor.

He pushed him self up onto all fours with no little effort and was stunned. From this vantage, he couldn't even see over the seat of his chair. This wasn't right. A quick attempt to straighten to his full height ended with another tumble back to the ground, with his arms and legs sticking up in the air.

"Oh no," he thought, "I wasn't this furry before." The dread was rapidly becoming full-fledged panic. He tentatively wiggled his left arm, only to have a furry paw in front of him wiggle instead.

"Wowr!" he yelped, and promptly snapped his mouth shut. That definitely wasn't what he meant to say.

"Wawrg?" he queried, and cringed at the decidedly feline noise that emerged from his throat. He shook his head in denial and shakily pushed himself back up on four wobbly legs. This was a bad thing. He took a few awkward steps, and had a bit of trouble trying to coordinate four legs while steadfastly ignoring the extra appendage twitching in agitation on his backside.

It was a chore walking back to his unfortunate creation, particularly with the damned bearings lying in wait along the way. And the closer he got to the table, the larger it seemed, until he was staring up at an impossible mountain in his own home.

"It's all right," he told himself. "I'm a cat, so jumping up should be no problem."

He crouched down, muscles tightly coiled and gave a gratuitous butt wiggle before launching at the table with all the strength and grace his feline form possessed. Sadly, he missed the edge of the table by a good foot and a half and learned the hard way that not all cats land on their feet.

He staggered back to his feet and shook his head. The table remained right where it was and mocked him silently with its utter lack of accessibility. He sighed and twitched his tail in irritation. As much as he loathed admitting it, he was going to need help.

"Achoo!"

And he was allergic to cats.