The halls and stairways of the apartment building became a war zone. Mr. Williamson, thinking he was playing some elaborate game sped up as fast as his small, furry legs could carry him. Fritz and Zooey, weighted down by their coats, scarves, and boots began to shed their clothing to keep up with the kitten. Neighbours came out to stand on the sidelines, arms folded, watching this better-than-daytime-tv event.

Fritz and Zooey panted heavily calling after the kitten, lagging far behind him and they went up and down stairs, to the lobby, and back up to their landing. Mr. Williamson swerved and bounded into an open door availble. People screamed at the sight of two half naked people chasing a sparkly and Italian food scented kitten as if it were some kind of comical romp.

Mr. Williamson stopped abruptly in front of their own apartment, tired and bored of his made up game. Fritz and Zooey slowly walked up the stairs, gasping for air to the sight of Mr. Williamson napping in the doorway.