Ron: (to Cat)

Scene: Ron, standing in kitchen, holding bottle of water, scratching cat.

Ron: I’m heading downstairs to write for the next hour and a half.
Cat: (speaking with eyes only, and perhaps a single tweak of a whisker) Yeah, right.
Ron: I hope to make at least four good words.
Cat: (gives cat chuckle, which looks remarkably like a faraway stare to anyone except a cat owner)
Ron: Would you, uh, happen know what those four might be?
Cat: (walks down stairwell, swishing tail, the universal signal for) Like I’m gonna tell you that?

Ron shrugs and goes downstairs to waste 90 minutes.

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