Finely honed Spawnkitty senses

On this spring afternoon, I had taken over my pet's lap while she knit and become lost in a nap. My lethal claws curled up harmlessly while I ravaged wild monkeys in my sleep, my tail twitching with each kill. Then, on my Spawnkitty sense, I heard it. The bzzzzz bzzzz of the deadly Northern Canadian Fly! The yumoos were shamefully unaware of the danger they were in. A fly in the eye is no laughing matter. I sprang my pets lap without stretching and ran straight for the fireplace. There, Chuck and I cornered the fly onto the windowsill, so others of its kind could witness the carnage and know not to mess with us. With one slap, Chuck stunned the fly, who had no time to register the orange fuzzy Spawnkitty paw before it hit him, and with three assured Spawnkitty bites, I ate it. A well orchaestrated effort resulting in a fast, merciful kill, for we are Spawnkitties! A successful afternoon. Now, back to those wild monkeys.