Summer stomped into the living room where Phil was watching TV. She was grumbling loudly to herself in anger and closed the door behind her harder than she'd intended. It made a booming sound that echoed in the room. At the sound Phil turned to look at her. She could only spit, "I'm going to kill that cat!"
"What happened? You look like you're ready to commit murder," Phil grinned.
"I was in my studio just now, painting a still life around that antique vase we got last fall. It was going really good and I was nearly done with the rough painting, and..." she put her fists on her hips, "that damned cat leaps into my lap and sticks her big, fuzzy tail in my bottle of Antique Magenta! She scared me so bad that I jumped and she leaped away and tail-brushed magenta over my painting! She kicked the easel over, it fell on the stand I was using and that beautiful vase goes flying, and it hit the jar of used brush cleaner and that fell off the shelf and burst on the workbench. Turpentine slopped all over Mrs. Clay's painting and ruined it, and then the vase hit the floor and shattered and it's ruined and if it's the last thing I do on this earth I'm going to murder_that_damned _cat!!" She stood there, fury crackling through her, while Phil clapped his hand over his mouth to try and stifle the laughter that was bubbling out.
"Oh, you think it's funny, do you?" Summer growled. It was at this point that Phil rolled off the couch and onto the floor, holding his sides and laughing out loud.
She stared at him for several seconds while his face turned red and tears came to his eyes. Then her lips began to twitch and, despite herself, she began to smile. His laughter was so contagious, and he was obviously having such a great time, that she couldn't help herself.
"Sounds..." Phil was trying to talk through his laughter. "Sounds...like...a reg...regular CAT-ASTROPHE!" Then he fell apart again.
Summer fought not to laugh. She lost. Suddenly she was giggling along with him, then sinking down on the floor at his side. She collapsed against his heavy, warm body and they shook as they chuckled together.
Finally things grew quiet in the room and the two people lay still, Phil on his back and Summer leaning back against his ribcage. "You're awful, you know," she chided him. "Absolutely incorrigible. I was all set for a good, old fashioned conniption and you ruined it."
He grinned and spoke, affecting a cheesy French accent. "Awww, non, Madamoiselle, I am ze defender and protector of misunderstood poo-see cats everywhere! I could not permit you to commit ze awful beating on ze tiny, innocent poo-see!"
Summer couldn't help but giggle at his silliness. "Are all French poo-see cat defending superheroes as beautiful as you?" she asked.
"Oh, but zere IS no other defender of ze helpless little kitties," he crowed. "I am ze ONLY one. Why, do you have a little poo-see that needs to be rescued?" At this, he ran his fingertips up the sensitive inside of her thigh, but when he reached the hem of her shorts he stopped and gave her a quizzical look.
"Hmmm...perhaps I do," Summer replied. She quickly unsnapped her denim shorts and drew the zipper down, revealing her well-trimmed pubic fur.