You freeze where you are, and time itself seems to stand still. A disheveled creature, evidently having been interrupted in the process of seizing the contents of your refrigerator, locks eyes with you from across the kitchen. Terror is evident in his eyes, which relentlessly stare at you, glistening in the light emanating from the frigid box containing the subject of his raid. Frozen in place, his hand stuck grasping the handle of the halfway-opened refrigerator door, his appearance is statuesque. But even this eerie quality is not remotely unsettling relative to what slowly dawns upon you. The creature is Chance Furlong.
This seemingly simple observation is so difficult to process that you're forced to dismiss the reality of the entire situation. Your mind desperately grasps for an explanation, for any feasible reasoning behind this situation. But your futile reasoning returns null, and you are unable to find an answer for what you are actively perceiving. So you are content simply to stare and wonder at your beloved cartoon character, inexplicably standing before your eyes, who stares back with mirrored amazement at you.
After a twenty-second period of time which seems to span dozens of minutes, the temperature sensor within the fridge triggers the cooling unit, thanks to Chance's terrified iron grip on the door preventing it from closing and sealing away the cold. The surrealistic situation is shattered with the powering-up of the compressor motor, and slowly time returns to its typical continuation.
The inexplicably real Chance releases the door handle, allowing the refrigerator to close. Still staring intently at him, you notice the intense fear and guilt in his eyes. As for you, however, you feel relatively calm. After all, you've watched Swat Kats, and know that Chance is a "good guy". No matter how bizarre and disturbing the whole situation is, the fact that you recognize Chance alleviates any fears related to the fact that there's an intruder in your home.
It hits you that your relative lack of fear is probably an intimidation to him. As far as you know, you don't have a TV show in his universe, so he has nothing to recognize you by. To him, your a terrifying hairless primate whose house he's broken into. Suddenly, his eyes dart to the sliding glass door nearby, and you sense that he's about to bolt for it. Frantically, you break the silence and shout before he can escape: "STOP! Don't leave..."
Chance's eyes widen in shock. Clearly he hadn't been expecting you to speak his language. Realizing that he has the ability to communicate with you, he actually relaxes slightly. "I know who you are," you exclaim. Speaking up for the first time, his voice is constrained and wavering. "Y-you do?" The situation is becoming much more comfortable now. Chance relaxes more, and you walk across the kitchen to talk more casually to him. You're even becoming excited at the idea of talking to a member of the one-and-only Swat Kats! Grinning, you enthusiastically affirm his question. "Yeah, you're a Swat Kat!" Your voice drops when you realize just how poor of a condition he's in. "You look hurt," you note with a tone of concern, to which Chance replies, "Let's just say I've had a very... confusing day." You nod, and offer him your couch for rest. Though you evidently haven't yet gained his trust, he's too exhausted to deny a rest, and falls asleep immediately after you lead him into your living room.
You stare at the sleeping form for several minutes, contemplating whether you've lost your mind, or whether something drastic and unexplainable has happened. Unable to make any conclusions, you change your course of thought and decide to take stock of what's left of your food supplies. Random food is spilled in front of the refrigerator, and a trail of paw prints shows how Chance had gone through the back door and made his way immediately to the food. You rebuke yourself mentally for your perpetual slacking in home security. That aside, you continue with your initial objective. A quick glance inside the refrigerator reveals that virtually everything had been viciously consumed, as if by a starved beast. Upturned leftovers splatter the shelves, and it generally looks like a tornado had occurred within the confines of the fridge.
You sigh, dreading the financial burden of restocking your food, but quickly you forget this as you realize that it was Chance Furlong who caused the food disaster. He did appear to be quite starved, and you're glad that he was able to find food, even if it meant stealing from you. Now back in the living room, you glance once again at Chance. Many questions are unanswered, and you perpetually wonder how Chance came to be here, not only into this world, but into your very own house. However, as excited as you are to talk to Chance, you don't wish to disturb him, and you walk to your own bed to attempt to nap.