Peeking over the edge of the overturned living room coffee-table into the kitchen, Hortch watched the cola can spinning on the counter, spitting molten lava and smoke.
“Hortch, do something!” yelled the cat, who Hortch was quite certain had never spoken to him before – a detail he took note of, but filed under ‘LATER’.
There was a basket of yarn by the loveseat. Hortch tossed the yarn and put the basket on his head. Then, he grabbed the fireplace wood tongs and ran into the kitchen.
The sparks and smoke were hard to see through, but he managed to grab the can with the tongs and ran with them, bounding straight towards the balcony.
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He picked himself up, threw open the door and fetched the tongs and grabbed the can again, which had luckily bounced all the way back to the kitchen to almost it’s original location; only NASA could have been more precise.
He threw the can-tongs-surprise off the balcony, 14 stories above the Nissan Sentra driving by at that moment with an open sunroof.
“There. Now it’s someone else’s problem,” he said to the cat, whose only reply was to lick its own balls. “Two can play at that game,” thought Hortch, erroneously.
But first… to the kitchen, to see if ginger ale worked better.