Where is the human?
Ahh, there he is, in the bedroom. Snoring. But I am confined. I will wake him up. It’s his own fault anyway. I could have been the mighty hunter this night, but he locked the barrier to the outside world. I could have found the mouse. He lives near the woodshed. Due to my human’s incompetence though, the damnable creature lives to fight again. Just like Sir Richard across the street.
Sir Richard. What a cad. Struts around atop that wall, as if he owns the street. But this is not his street, it is mine. And I will claim it back. I, Duke Barrigan of 23 Richmond Lane, will hold this fiefdom. The other animals will bow before my brilliance.
Once my human has released the barrier.
I pad my way through to the snoring beast. His bulk fills the bed, monster that he is. I silently jump up onto the windowsill, a pale moon silhouetting me through the open blinds. Lazy creature, not closing them. But hopefully he may be sleeping lighter because of his laziness.
A glass of water, left on the side. A perfect weapon for the ambush of his rest. An artfully rested paw, waiting for the opportune moment. Any minute…
There it is. The hulk rolls over, mouth open wide as he fights to inhale. A swift push, the glass tipping into the sheets and flooding the sheets. The brute wakes with a roar, splashing around. I yowl in response, rushing to the barrier. He follows me, stomping across the tiles, uttering sounds in his strange, guttural language. What kind of idiot never learned to meow? Or yowl?
I sit at the barrier, scratching at it gently with my claws. The brute points to the plastic tray full of gravel. I increase my scratching.
The brute calls out in frustration, then opens the barrier. I shoot through, out into the open air.
Time to reclaim the street.
The Idiot in Tin Foil