Yeah, haha! 
On rare occasion, I look at some words young’uns use these days, including now after your inspiration.
So I finally found out what “flex” means = to brag about something.
I hear “flex” in movies or whatnot, so now it will make more sense, lol.
Maybe it comes from muscle/bicep flexing, showing off. 
morning Willy… sounds like a good start…
WilIy and Professor Antoine tumbled out of the swirling dimensional vortex and crash-landed onto the ground near the base of the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. The air smelled of salt, diesel, and victory—The Rot was defeated.
WilIy groaned, dusting off his cap. “We made it, Antoine. Now let’s secure this last bit of Cannabinoid-Zeta and get home.”
“Mon Dieu! Hold that thought, WilIy,” Antoine purred, his nose twitching. He ignored the grand spectacle of the bridge and focused on a single, glorious aroma. “I am detecting a familiar, glorious scent. North… North by Northwest… Ah! Lombardi’s! We cannot pass the oldest pizzeria in America, not after saving the cosmos.” WilIy sighed, knowing the battle was lost. Antone’s hunger was more powerful than any cosmic threat. “Fine. But it’s a quick trip.”
He activated his V5 skateboard. Antoine perched on WilIy’s head as they rode off through the streets of Lower Manhattan. They arrived at the counter of Lombardi’s Pizza in Little Italy. Antoine, hopping onto the counter next to the register, wasted no time declaring his order to the attendant:
“Monsieur, nous prendrons une pizza entière! Une grande Meat Lover’s, bien sûr. Et rapide, s’il vous plaît! Mon ami, WilIy, est un peu impatient.”
Seated at a small table, WilIy—embracing the logic of the moment—devoured a large piece of the Meat Lover’s pie.
“You see, WilIy, terroir! Tradition!” Antoine exclaimed, his mouth full, enjoying his gluttonous reward.
WilIy finished his slice, wiped his paws, and pulled out the cryo-pouch. The time for indulgence was over.
He retrieved the last of the Cannabinoid-Zeta cigar stub he had brought.
“Professor Antoine,” WilIy declared, taking a slow, deep draw. "The Rot is gone. New York is… vertical. We need to go somewhere more laid back.”
WilIy exhaled a plume of smoke that shimmered with faint, colorful hues, and the anti-gravity kicked in. WilIy and Antoine, now perched again on WilIy’s head, began to rise silently above the restaurant floor. Professor Antoine, the “sentient anomaly,” curled his long, sleek tail and began to twirl it in a rapid, corkscrew motion, generating a surprising burst of thrust. WilIy, meanwhile, used his own tarsier tail as a rudder, leaning into the plume of smoke, steering them west.
“Home,” WilIy whispered, as his mind became hyper-focused on returning to home and hearth.
In seconds, the tiny primate and the elegant, French-speaking feline had transformed into a Cannabinoid-Zeta-powered, tail-driven ballistic missile. They soared high above the towering steel of the Verrazzano-Narrows, heading straight for home.
It’s always exciting returning from an arduous adventure like defending Cannabotanical Gardens from the likes of the Rot. WilIy could feel the mountains and detect the scent of his house in Tarsier Holler. He was ready for this trip to be done and to get this faux French kitty off his back.
He began their descent. He was utterly spent and ready for a long, quiet rest. As soon as he is abel he had to make sure his cousin Clemmit hadn’t done anything to compromise the gardens. That meant securing any samples of Event Horizon and investigating how the rogue Quasar Pulse genetics had made it into the wild. That will wait until morning.
WilIy’s family gathered to meet Professor Antoine de Chatres. They had arrived just in time for dessert, French apple pie from fresh picked. As they often did, WilIy and his family enjoyed a little strummin’ and hummin’. WilIy finally allowed himself to relax on his old porch swing, the scent of the Appalachian mountains washing away the salt and diesel of the city.
Professor Antoine de Chatres settled himself regally in a corner of the porch swing, his long, sleek tail draped elegantly over the side. He meticulously groomed a paw, then paused, his golden eyes gazing out at the familiar, gentle rolling landscape. “Ah, mon ami,” Antoine purred, a sound of pure contentment. “I see now why you were so impatient to leave that vertical place. This is a much finer reward than any pizza.”
WilIy, utterly spent, gave a small, tired smile. He watched his family enjoying the sunset with their pie. The battle against The Rot was won, and the elegant feline on his swing was finally quiet. The matter of his cousin Clemmit , the Event Horizon, and the rogue genetics could all wait until morning. For tonight, the cosmos was safe, and Wildwood WilIy was ready for a long, quiet rest.
He was home.
Morning ROG, hope your day goes well. They had a tap started when they got planted last night, if all goes well they’ll sprout before the weekend.
another great story and pictures… definitely a talent you have… 
Cool adventures yet again! 
Good morning Sir Willy and other Legends! 
Morning all another great adventure @WilIy 
Always entertaining, Great job @WilIy
Spoons, Willy got some spoon playin’ in! 
Professor Kitty is looking a bit chubby by now, though very happy, still savoring that pizza on Willy’s porch. 
Thanks for this, these stories are always fun! 
Thank you , I’m enjoying the story’s also.
After almost getting obliterated by a collapsing wormhole WilIy was enjoying a little downtime … Antoine loves him some pizza
La pizza est au banquet des dieux! 
That’s what Antoine told me…
Well then I must agree with Antoine, after all pizza is the circle of life.
Now I want to order a pizza
Mmmm, pizza is good stuff!
We have a very good pizza joint close to us.
