Three cats—Mochi, Salem, and Pudding—sat in a perfect triangle beneath the silver moon, their whiskers twitching in anticipation. They had fallen asleep on the windowsill, bellies full, but their dreams had just begun.
In their shared dream, they stood upon a mountain made entirely of soft, swirling cream. Rivers of milk flowed through valleys of cheese, and clouds rained down whipped froth. A golden saucer floated in the sky, glowing like a divine treasure.
“This is it,” purred Mochi, eyes gleaming. “The Age of Cats begins with the Milk Dominion.”
Salem, always the strategist, flicked his tail. “We’ll need to control the Great Spigot of Endless Dairy. Only then can we rule.”
Pudding, the youngest and most chaotic, leapt into a milk fountain and declared, “I claim this land in the name of all cats who have ever been denied seconds!”
They marched across the creamy plains, leaving pawprints of destiny. Every bowl they touched overflowed. Every kitten they met bowed in awe. Soon, the entire realm meowed their names in reverence: the Triumvirate of Milk.
But as the golden saucer descended, the ground began to tremble. The milk rivers turned to fog, the cheese mountains crumbled, and a distant sound echoed—pssshhk!—the hiss of a waking kettle.
The three cats opened their eyes on the windowsill. Morning light spilled across their fur. Their human was pouring milk into her coffee.
They stared at the cup, then at each other.
The dream might have ended, but the thirst for domination remained.
