stephbg | Like little furry zombies

Husband had a brilliant idea last night: lure the cats out of the bedroom then close the door so we could (a) sleep in peace(*) and (b) solve the problem of their increasingly elaborate pre-dawn breakfast demands. I had my doubts but let him try.

At the appointed hour the bedroom door shook under the assault of the hungry furry zombies.

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

If George A Romero had done cat food commercials he'd have been about ready to wrap.

BOOM

BOOM

BOOM

But then the pace shifted up a gear.

scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape

scrape scrape scrape scrape

scrape scrape scrape

scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape

BOOM

scrape scrape

scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape scrape

BOOM

I think we all get the idea.

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ALL RIGHT! GET UP MAN AND FEED THE DAMN CATS!

For of course Husband's plan had succeeded; he had slept through the whole thing.

(*) This from the man who--I NEVER tire of pointing this out--fell asleep in the cinema during the final battle sequence of Transformers.