KFC Time
The giant white and red chalice perched on the edge of the coffee table. It’s comforting warmth penetrated my fur as I brushed my face against it. The large bucket moved a little as I leaned against it. What followed was a fresh waft of steam that welcomed itself into my nostrils. The steam was meaty and salty.
Ten minutes ago, a tamer tantalizing breeze had coaxed me out of my routine mid evening nap. The scent possessed me out of the kitchen and led me to the living room where I now stood. I craned my neck to see more of the breaded goodness piling out of the bucket. I could already see myself sinking my fangs into the juicy white meat. The greasy breading would grind against my teeth, releasing an intoxicating salty flavor that put temptation’s cat treats to shame.
I pressed my pink nose to the waxy paper wall of the bucket. It left a small spot of condensation when I backed away, along with a warmth that radiated across my face. The top of the bucket was not within reach of my head. I cursed my short limbs and neck that visitors ogled over when I came running to the door. I hated being assaulted by their dumb smiles as I struggled to run past their legs and out into the front yard. The bastards would always scoop me up by my belly and berate me with annoying childish jabber before I could make it to freedom. I never understood why humans thought high-pitched voices brought comfort to cats which have sensitive ears. Even my owners talk to me in a baby voice when I’m laying on their laps on the couch. The belly rubbing they give me is nice though.
I hoped I wouldn’t hear voices of any kind as I stared at the chicken bucket pensively. It stood precariously at the edge of the glass tabletop. Just a little push would lead to a waterfall of greasy goodness. Carefully, I pressed my head against the side of the bucket and pushed it towards me. The bucket moved slightly closer but did not spill. I backed away, reassessing the situation. While I was closer to victory, the progress was miniscule. Even if I continued to push it with my head, my strength wouldn’t be enough to bring it to the floor.
I let out a low growl. If only I was taller. I looked down at my legs and thought of the usual evenings on the couch. One of my owners would watch cat videos for hours on her laptop. While I didn’t enjoy the sounds of other cats, a few intrigued me. Some cats she watched had strange triangular faces, big ears, and long legs. They looked like the cross between a cat and an elvish creature and could jump high enough to perch on their owner’s shoulder. This action was usually followed by a surprised shout that made me smile inside. My computer loving owner, who was also six years old, called them long boys. Long boys are a terrible name for a cat breed, but it is a bad name that I’ll have to accept.
Today I was going to become a long boy. I’d take a running start, jump, and bat my front paws at the bucket, knocking it to the ground. This would have to work. I backed until I was a few feet away from the coffee table. I glanced back down at my legs and closed my eyes. I must run the powerful stride of the long boy. I must tense the mighty haunches of the long boy. I must be the long boy.
My eyes snapped open and I charged at the table with all my strength. I repeated mantras in my head. My legs were long. They were stringy and muscular. I now had the power. When I got close to the table, I tensed my haunches. I outstretched my front legs. My body came off the ground and rocketed towards the bucket. For a few seconds, my mind filled with adrenaline. I was floating towards the bucket. It was just within reach of my paws. They bumped against it, causing it to knock over and crash to the floor. While I knew I’d accomplished my goal, that wasn’t the first thing that came to mind. I was still flying. And I was flying across the coffee table. My paws slid against the glass as my entire body skated forward. I flopped to my side and slid off the table, falling back to the floor.
For a moment I lay there frozen. I then slowly got up, searching for my prize. Thankfully, nothing hurt as I walked back to the white and red bucket that now lay sideways on the carpet. In my stunt, I had knocked over several ceramic cat figurines that now laid about the floor. A pile of brown crumbs cascaded from the meaty pile. The salty smell was now overwhelming. I rushed over and inspected the pieces. A large breast lay right in front of me and I salivated hard. I immediately bit into it, taking out a chunk of white meat. The meat and salt interwove through my taste buds in flavor Nirvana. Mmm! Tasty!
