The Rift: A Productive Evening

A Productive Evening

The hunter stalked his prey warily as she slept, creeping across the ground a centimeter at a time. His prey, the tigress, lay on her side with her paws outstretched, slumbering peacefully without a clue of the hunter baring down on her. This time, he was sure he'd be successful in his attack. A mere meter away now, he prepared to pounce, his brown-furred tail wagging and his eyes narrowing in concentration as he pushed his forepaws into the floor. He could do this. After all these attempts, he'd finally–

"Hey!" came a sharp whisper from his right.

The young German Shepherd turned his head slightly with one ear cocked, looking curiously at the sound of his owner's voice.

A tall man with short spiky hair and a muscular build glared at the pup over the kitchen island, a cook's apron covering his bare chest and pajama pants as he flipped a pancake with a spatula. "You're not going to win, Rex," he whispered to the dog in warning.

Rex seemed to contemplate this for a moment, looking between the man and the tiger snoozing on the couch. Then, making up his mind, he crouched down and pounced, landing on the orange-furred body like a sack of potatoes.

"Ah!" came a cry from the couch as the man put his hand to his face.

With a hefty thud, both Rex and the tigress fell off the couch, landing with her back to the floor and Rex lying on top of her, licking her muzzle as she cried out in protest.

"Jason, your damn dog's trying to smother me!" she yelled.

Pausing his cooking for a moment, Jason put his fists on his hips and said in a mocking tone, "Aw, and big ol' miss Alex can't get up with a puppy pinning her down?"

"Screw you, I'm getting slobbered on!"

The anthropomorphic feline pushed Rex off of herself easily and jumped up onto her paws, but the dog had gotten one of his claws caught in the fabric of her tank top and nearly toppled over, letting out a yelp. Alex quickly untangled the claw and half-hopped backwards, glaring at him. Rex, for his part, seemed to have lost interest and began chasing his tail in the middle of the living room. Alex glanced at Jason with a confused look, and he shrugged, continuing to flip pancakes expertly.

Letting out a sigh, she sat on a stool across the island from him and rested her elbows on the black quartz countertops, supporting her chin with her palms. "I was having such a good nap," she complained. Her thin, muscular body compressed a bit as she arched her back in a stretch, popping several of her vertebrae.

"I told him it was a bad idea," Jason commented.

"He's a dog, Lightbulb." She sounded exasperated, like they had had this conversation before.

"Yeah, but you're an overgrown house cat," he replied jokingly.

"And you're a racist." She watched him cook for a short time, then looked at him curiously, one of her rounded ears flicking. "Why are you using a spatula?"

"What do you mean?" he replied without looking up from his task.

Letting out a huff, she sat straight and snapped her fingers. Immediately, all of the pancakes on the induction skillet rose into the air and flipped over, landing back in their places without a wasted drop off batter. Jason looked at the pancakes, then at his roommate, then back at the pancakes. "You know," he said, "if I wasn't about to lie, I'd say it's because the thought never crossed my mind, but instead I'm going to say I did it because I'm old-fashioned. I was a logger, remember?"

Alex rolled her eyes and snorted. "Sure, whatever. Just let me know when they're done."

There was a slight stutter to Jason's movements, like a chunk of his actions were missing. "Already are." He picked up the last pancake with the spatula and flipped it onto a pile of the breakfast pastries on a plate beside the skillet, giving Alex a smug grin. "Dinner is served."