Claws

Every night he woke to the faint skittering of claws on wood. He got up, grabbed his peashooter, and rushed out of bed, sheets trailing behind him. Kal often forgot the outside world as soon as he heard those claws. He often forgot that it was less than freezing and he was only in his boxers. He forgot that the front porch was often icy from the warmer weather during the daylight. All he knew in those early morning hours was that he wanted those animals gone.

This morning, he found himself standing on the porch – just barely – he had nearly slipped and instead sprained his back from the recovery – a crazed look in his eye, and the pea shooter at his mouth to hit the next warm-blooded monster that made noise.

There it was – a crack! Before he could see what it was he aimed and fired a shot. A shriek followed quickly after. When the rage had cleared from Kal’s eyes shock had settled in. An adonis in furs stood before him.

Realization settled over both of them, and their eyes in unison fell over Kal’s nearly naked form.

If it was near freezing, Kal could not tell for how much his cheeks burned in embarrassment.

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