The Daily Killer

Sarah was arranging throw pillows on the couch when she heard keys jingling at the front door. Her cats, Mochi and Whiskers, perked up their ears but remained lazily sprawled across their cat tree.

"Who's there?" Sarah called out, following their daily ritual.

"It's the killer, here to murder you!" came Alex's cheerful voice. "I brought groceries!"

"Oh thank goodness," Sarah replied, walking to help with the bags. "I was worried it might be someone trying to sell me solar panels. That would be much worse."

The next day, it was Alex's turn to be home alone with the cats. He was deep into a video game when he heard footsteps approaching the door.

"Who's there?" he yelled, pausing his game.

"Just your friendly neighborhood murderer!" Sarah sang out. "I picked up your prescription!"

"How thoughtful," Alex responded. "Most killers don't bring medication."

This playful exchange continued daily until one afternoon, when both of them happened to arrive home at exactly the same time, meeting at the front door.

"Who's there?" they both called out simultaneously.

"It's the killer!" they answered in unison, then burst out laughing.

Inside, Mochi and Whiskers watched their humans with typical feline disdain. The cats had long since figured out that real killers don't announce themselves – they just knock over water glasses at 3 AM and demand breakfast at dawn.

That evening, as Sarah and Alex cuddled on the couch watching true crime documentaries, Whiskers knocked over a glass in the kitchen with a loud crash.

"Who's there?" Sarah called out instinctively.

"Meow," came the response.

Alex turned to Sarah with wide eyes. "That's exactly what a killer would say."