Jackie, red hair blazing, brandishes her sword at Mr. Whiskers, the family cat, who’s perched on the couch, unimpressed. “Foul beast, face me!” she bellows, striking a pose. Whiskers yawns, then swipes a paw, dodging her wild swing. The living room’s a battlefield—pillows fly, curtains sway. Jackie lunges; Whiskers flips over her blade, landing with a smug meow. “Cursed feline!” she cries, as you, dodging a lamp, yell, “Jackie, it’s just a cat!” Fate cackles.
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