Stifling a yawn, Jack Ryan entered the kitchen, blearily fumbling through the cabinet for a mug and pouring a cup of coffee from the steaming pot on the shelf. He'd slept in a bit later than he intended, and judging by the condition of the hot liquid, one of the girls was already up. Probably Julie. Julie was an early riser. Jamming a few pieces of bread into the toaster, he leaned against the counter, studying the view outside the window quietly.
The lawn was still; not a breath of wind disturbing the tall grass, much in need of a trim. Over the Sound, the sun was preparing to rise, and little waves slapped at the pebbled beach at the edge of the verge. Plucking the steaming pieces of toast carefully from the little machine and dumping them quickly onto a nearby plate, Jack smiled slightly to himself as he settled down at the table with his breakfast. So far, so good. Maybe, just maybe, this morning would be as relaxing and peaceful as the weather seemed to be. He reached across the table for the jam jar.
Splurt, splurt, splurt, splurt. Jack glanced up casually, then froze and did a double take, mouth dropping open in horror as Mr. B, the family dog, waddled into the room on a set of four fleshy tentacles, leaving a trail of gleaming ooze behind him, a newspaper clenched firmly between his teeth. His eyestalks swayed gently with each splodgy step. Coming to a halt beside his master, and dropping the paper into his lap, the creature panted happily, struggling to wag his slime-covered tail.
Jack stared, struggling for a moment to regain his composure before taking a deep breath and bellowing, "TENENBAUM! Have you been experimenting on the dog again!"
From the basement door behind him came the muffled reply of "Just a little!"
Schluck, schluck, schluck. Mr. B's back tentacle slapped wetly against his fur as he tried to scratch behind his ear.
"I can fix it!"
"You'd better! Right now!" he shouted back, giving the dog-mollusk a dubious glance.
The only answer he received was a moment of silence, followed by a dull thump from behind the door. A plume of black smoke drifted out from under the threshold, accompanied by loud coughing. Jack raised an eyebrow.
"You alright?"
"Fine! A minor setback, is all," she answered in between coughing fits, "Let me just… eh, just…"
With a little sigh, he flopped back into his seat, reaching for the coffee cup and folding open the paper. Something tickled the bottom of his outstretched arm, and he looked down to see Mr. B's eyestalks poking over the edge of the table, fixed on the plate of toast sitting in front of him. The beast turned the appendages toward him briefly before returning his gaze to the food. Jack sighed again.
It was going to be a long day.