Crushing It

The Fitbit buzzed. “Time to move!”

Well, he had to feed the cats anyway as they were delivering their most intimidating laser stares. He walked into the other room, opened a cat, spooned the food in, and set the bowls down.

The Fitbit buzzed. “Crushed it!”

“Crushed it. I sure did.” The man was being sarcastic. He’d used thirty seconds and what, twenty movements?

“I don’t think so,” one cat said with a glance up.

“No.” The second sniffed with disdain. “You didn’t ‘crush’ it.”

“Right,” said the third. “We could have fed ourselves, if we had thumbs.”

Nodding, the cats resumed eating. Muttering at them, the man returned to us chair.

Talk about crushing it; someone had, and it wasn’t him.