Or something like that.

t’s 4 am and you’ve lost the sleepdrunk ‘rock, paper, scissors’ match which decided which one of you was going to investigate the sound from downstairs, that vaguely could have resembled someone stubbing their knee on the low table, grasping for purchase in the dark, failing the effort and falling to the floor with all the grace someone who is unfamiliar with their surroundings at 4 am in the pitch dark of night could make if they were close to 180 pounds and in their cups.

So you trudge down, making noise like a herd of excited elephants, -hoping that the burglar(s)/drunk neighbour know what excited elephants sound like and would decide that evidently the best course of action is to get out of the way.

And for all the trouble you’ve gone through impersonating multiple elephants, you are greeted by a rubbish bin spinning on its rim -as if by magic and not because the cat suspected there was something delicious inside of it, that he should eat and regurgitate to admire, then eat again to better understand what half digested admiration tastes like.

Or something like that.

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