Schrdinger

The cat sat in the dark. It gave the edge of the box a wee scratch.

‘This is dark’, it thought. ‘I’m hungry’ it thought too.

It wasn’t the first box it had been in. It was about as dark as any other box, with a slightly mustier odor.

‘Fish’, it thought.

The smoke came in slowly. It coughed a wee bit.

‘Cough’, it said.

It yawned a wee bit and dreamt of salmon dancing in top hats to that song from Ferris Bueller.

‘Awesome’.