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You step on your tippy toes. You stretch, and stretch, and stretch, but it all seems like you can't.
...
(pun fully intended).
Skittles jumps up onto the shelf that held the tomato cans. You attempt to coax him into knocking it off, but he just doesn't get it. Seems as though his prime directive as a cat: cause as much discomfort as possible, is conflicting with his other directive: knock shit off of shelves.
You remind him of this fact, and then, after a minute of thinking, he comes to the conclusion that the most cat-like thing that could be possible is to knock off all the tomato cans off the shelf.
You pick up one of the cans and shove it up one of your buttholes.
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