True story.

   I worked a long day and was laying on the floor on the rug in the living room, relaxed. All was quiet. Until Kizzy silently launched off the arm of the couch, ricocheted off my gut, and spray into the dining room. Um, ow. It was surprising, it was painful, and—when I stopped rolling around and laughing at my own misfortune—it made a good cartoon. Bad kitty.