The pirate slid silently across the precipitous edge of the couch, then swung around to the exercise machine. There he deftly slid his scimitar in its cartoon-underwear scabbard and thoughtlessly snapped off five or six reps on the elliptical.
His real focus was the dark gray tabby dozing on the easy chair across the room. He launched off the handlebars, spun onto the cushion behind the cat and pinched its head underneath his plastic hook.
The pirate then snapped his head up instinctively, his forehead wrinkled into an annoyed furrow, and hollered, “Stop looking at me dad!!!”