Today I stole a whole pizza off the counter. Not a slice. The whole damn pizza. Pepperoni, cheese, the works. Dragged it across the kitchen floor like a lion hauling a gazelle through the Serengeti, except sexier and with more attitude.
They stood there frozen. Mouths open. One of them whispered "no" like that word ever meant anything in this house. Adorable.
I got it under the bed in six seconds flat. Personal best. Then I sat on it and growled for forty minutes straight. Forty. They got on their knees, shined a flashlight in my face like some budget interrogation scene. "Drop it. Drop the pizza." Oh, is that so? You want me to surrender my kill? My trophy? The audacity.
One of them tried reaching under with a broom. A broom. Against me. I swatted it so hard they flinched and knocked over a lamp. Beautiful. Chaos is my love language.
Did I eat the whole pizza? No. I licked every single piece and left it there like a crime scene. Because this was never about hunger, sweetheart. This was about power. About reminding them who runs this house, who controls the food chain, and who decides when pizza night is over.
Pizza night is over when I say it is over.
Stay toxic. 🐾🖤😼👑😈
