It wasn’t funny. Well, maybe just a little. Then. Not right away.
I argued with my husband all the way home about when is the best time to go to the store.
— Come on now! — I demanded. -There’s nothing left! Even bread!
-Come on tomorrow. — Sasha grumbled. — Well, yeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
-What are we going to have for dinner?
— We’ll eat the leftovers. Well pleaaaaaaaaa!!
He’s too lazy, but tomorrow is Friday! We’ll have to hang out in traffic jams and there will be more people in the store than usual. Rrrrrrrrrrr.
They came home. The cat, as usual, jumped out to yell into the corridor. Why, you need to notify all eight floors that the tiger is not being reported meat!
-Mayuuuuauau !!- the cat voted, confused underfoot.
— Well, something is left in the fridge! Sasha grumbled as he opened the door.
-Yes, there is something! -I chuckled. -Ketchup, sour cream and tomato paste!
«Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!» The cat yelled even louder and jumped into the sink.
-YES wait you! — I was angrily indignant.
— Nu here is, two eggs!! Now I’m going to fry an egg. Sasha beamed, noticing a couple of eggs in a drawer on the door.
— Uuuuuuuuu! Seriously. I almost went deaf.
Sasha is already reaching for the eggs. But the cat, apparently, decided that this was the very last meal in the house. And, of course, he must get it! Jumped forward. It hung on a plastic box, hung for a moment and fell down with a wild roar-yav. Drawers fell down, plastic doors from them. And then, of course, eggs.
The cat, for some reason, did not eat the prey, but disappeared behind the curtain. We only managed to jump back and swear. I glared at Sasha. He just shrugged.
“Maybe we can eat a cat?” I suggested.
— Bake in the oven, in tomato paste.
-Deal.
— Wow wow wow.
It’s good that Sasha had to get out. But the cat could have been patient, so we arrived an hour earlier!