Tabias sniffed at the spread of food. The table was covered from corner to corner with all types of colorful snacks. It’s a yearly tradition.
“What good is the rest of the year of football, if not for SuperBowl Sunday!” Father roared in the living room with his buddies.
Stepmother was busy in the kitchen, restocking pop and beers and cutting cucumbers and tomatoes. The TV was blaring play by plays that Tabias couldn’t care for. His sights were on the food!
Crackers and cheese, cookies and squares, pickles and carrots, Mozza sticks, and finger sandwiches. It all looked so appetizing, Tabias had no problem filling his time by filling his belly.
He stacked the food on top of each other before stuffing them into his mouth. Playing Jenga with sardines, cream cheese, and pickles slices. Making Dr. Dreadful treats with olives, ham slices, and devilled eggs. He mushed them into napkins and licked it off for the thrill of it.
His belly grew and grew until he felt like the man on the table from Operation, and his legs wouldn’t work. He fell to the ground and crawled under the table to wallow in his tummy ache. Suddenly, he realized the meat slices he had been eating caused his body to break out in seasoning spots!
Large black and white-rimmed like pepperoni, but also like a leopard! The skin around the sausage spots burst into thick yellow fur, and his teeth grew five inches. His hands hit the floor, and razor-sharp claws dug into the carpet.
Tabias, the leopard, stalked in circles under the table. What would he do? He needed his father’s help. He leaned back on his haunches and pounced from under the table. He aimed to tackle the balding man sitting next to his father, but the sausage spots faded mid-air. Tabias fell short and found himself lying on the coffee table.
Cans crushed under him, and all over the floor, he looked around and noticed his eyes were stellar sharp. His yellow-spotted fur had smoothed into a perfect carrot orange. He laid, looking at his father as a fox. His trusty fox tail still in place, smacked the table impatiently. How would his father help him now?
“Tabias!” his father yelled.
“Temerarious,” Tabias howled as the carrot orange suddenly faded to a bumpy brown like a Mozza stick. His body stretched long and thin, and his slithery tongue hissed from his mouth, just like the stringy cheese in the middle.
Tabias coiled up and lifted his head to puncture his venom tipped fangs into his father’s skin just at the same moment Stepmother entered the room saying,
“Who wants pigs in a blanket?”