INT: A PATCH OF SUN ON THE ARMREST OF A COMFY COUCH
MILO THE CAT is lounging in the sunshine, taking a very contented nap. His owner walks in and he raises his head sleepily.
Don't look at me like that. I can always tell when you humans are having a bad day. Like it's my fault for sleeping. Do I give you a hard time for only sleeping eight hours? Or for sleeping when you should be feeding me? No. So leave me alone.
(The owner walks over and pets Milo)
Well, I guess if you're going to pet me…
(Nuzzles the hand of the owner, who then pets him near the tail. His whole backside automatically lifts)
Noooooo—not the butt! Curse you, human, I was in such a comfortable pos—ooh, that does feel nice, though. All right, that's good. Getting bored now. Okay. Okay. Okay, that's enough.
(Bites the hand and then slinks off)
Man, it's like you don't know what you're doing. Petting is not about you, sir, you hairless pink popsicle. Now bring me food! Hey! Food, I tell you! Not that dry garbage, bring me something wet that makes the whole house smell like tuna!
(Follows his master toward the kitchen, baffled when he doesn't get his way)
I cannot fathom the inane stupidity of humanity. It's like they don't understand basic commands. Did I say to go get ice cream to stuff in your fat face? No. It's like when I meow and you meow back at me—I'm trying to speak to you in a language you understand, not get you to try and repeat it! I've seen your kind do the same nonsense babbling repetition with babies. Maybe you don't understand how communication works. If you did, maybe you'd get that I want to be petted on the head but not picked up or touched on the belly. It's not like it's that hard to remember.
Morons. I'm surrounded by morons. Sometimes it's almost like you think you're in charge or something.