The bathroom was a sanctuary of steam, expensive bath bombs, and—most importantly—the regal ego of Queen Beatrice.
Beatrice, a solid ten pounds of fluff and judgmental stares, had a ritual. While the human soaked in the tub, Beatrice would perch on the porcelain rim, tucked safely behind the shower curtain like a fluffy gargoyle. From her humid throne, she could contemplate the mysteries of the universe, such as why the red dot never stays caught and why her kibble bowl was currently 10% empty.
She was the undisputed heavy-weight champion of the household. She was immovable. She was—
THWACK.
In the hallway, a four-pound blur of chaotic energy named Pixel had reached terminal velocity. Pixel didn’t run; she drifted. She took the corner into the bathroom on two paws, her tiny claws skidding across the tile like a rally car on ice.
She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t meow a warning. She simply launched her entire aerodynamic frame into the shower curtain at the exact coordinates of Beatrice’s backside.
The physics were undeniable. $F = ma$, and in this case, the “a” was “Absolute Audacity.”
There was a muffled thump, a frantic scratching of claws against plastic, and then the unmistakable SPLASH of ten pounds of offended feline hitting the deep end.
By the time the first droplets of water hit the floor, Pixel was already three rooms away, tucked under a sofa, looking incredibly innocent.
Beatrice emerged from the curtain looking like a drowned pipe cleaner, her dignity dissolved, staring at the empty doorway with wide, unblinking eyes. She didn’t even know a “Pixel” existed in this dimension. To Beatrice, it wasn’t a prank; it was a targeted strike from an invisible, teleporting deity.
The Queen spent the next hour licking her fur back into place, unaware that the “deity” was currently in the living room, successfully chasing her own tail.
