Task 4: Give said incarnation treats. If I am worthy, I will get the rabid turkey sounds.
Task 5: Wait for Amara to come looking for her rabid, fluffy white turkey.
Task 6: Hand her the sandwich and cat. If and only if she smiles, try to talk to her.
I’ve made a lot of lists in my life, one of which even got my best friend his dream girl. But this one was art.
The execution was part of the issue. I know that she loves marshmallow fluff, but how much is too much? What is the perfect peanut butter to fluff ratio?
I decided to go with the theory that the more fluff, the better. So I piled it on before the chunky peanut butter—the only way she’ll eat it—and placed it on the small plate.
I took a deep breath. First order of business was done.
I figured that wrangling the cat was going to be the biggest challenge, so before I tackled that, I tiptoed past Amara’s room and into mine, where I dropped the sandwiches on my bedside table.
And then, for the difficult part.
I headed back into the kitchen, where I grabbed the cat treats. Quietly opening the bag, I shook them once to get his attention.
I was met with the round eyes of an owl.
Okay, my original plan to lead him into my room wasn’t going to work. I was hoping that he would work with me,somehow reading my mind that he had to be quiet about this before I got him into my room.
Clearly, that was not going to happen. So instead, I snatched him.
Treats in hand, I scooped the mammal up in my hands, running into my room before he could scream.
Honestly, he didn’t seem to mind.
And now we’re here. With Fluffernutter on the ground, looking up at me with confusion in those weird little eyes.
“Okay, you need to help me now,” I whisper, cracking open the bag.
He sits.
I drop a treat.
He doesn’t do shit.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
I drop another. He looks at it, and then back at me.
I drop three more, and nothing.
I groan. “I just need a turkey noise. Please.”
After dropping two more, I’ve had enough.
I pour out the whole bag.
Thankfully, that does it.
The small man loses his shit, immediately going full turkey with what can only be described as a level of gluttony the bible speaks of.
My heart pounding, I jump into my bed, and am just taking a bite of sandwich when Amara flings the door open.
“What the hell?” she asks, watching her cat inhale small treats. Her eyes slowly pan up to me.
