Semi-Auto Tribute Dispenser Earns a Demanding Encore

The box was an offense to begin with. It was large, loud upon opening, and smelled aggressively of plastic and disappointment. My Human, however, made a series of cooing noises usually reserved for when I deign to sit on their lap. They pulled out a brightly colored orange-and-black thing that looked like a very uncomfortable place to sit. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, judgmental *thump-thump* against the upholstery. They fumbled with a panel, inserting cylindrical objects that I knew from experience held the strange lightning that powers their noisy gadgets. I yawned, showing off my fangs, and began to groom a perfectly clean patch of fur on my white bib. Another loud, useless human toy. A low whirring sound began, raising the fur along my spine. I flattened my ears, my eyes narrowing to slits. The Human was aiming the plastic monstrosity at the far wall. There was a sharp *crack*, and something incredibly fast—a blur of orange—zipped past my head and ricocheted off the bookcase. My refined sensibilities were momentarily overwhelmed by millions of years of predatory instinct. I was off the sofa in a flash, my pampered body moving with a liquid grace that would make a panther jealous. The little orange thing now lay motionless on the rug, a fallen foe. Cautiously, I crept forward, my belly low to the ground. I sniffed the dart. It had the faint, metallic scent of the air it had just violated. I gave it a tentative pat with one white paw. It wobbled obligingly. Before I could launch a full-scale assault, another *crack-zip* echoed in the room, and a second dart landed near the curtains. This was not a random event; it was a volley. A challenge. The Human was providing a steady stream of worthy adversaries. I abandoned the first victim and pounced on the second, bunny-kicking it into submission before looking up, my eyes wide with the thrill of the hunt. The whirring stopped. The Human was reloading, fumbling with the 'magazine'. I sat, panting slightly, a small pile of three vanquished foam darts gathered at my paws. My cynicism had melted away, replaced by a primal, exhilarating focus. I looked at my Human, then at the silent plastic blaster, and let out a small, demanding "mrrrow." The message was clear. The noise was still an affront to my dignity, but the prey was of exceptional quality. Reload the tribute dispenser. My afternoon had just become significantly more interesting.