This is crack, so don't take it (too) seriously.
Look! A useless disclaimer!
He was practically starving, as being denied meat was almost torture for the carnivore. Perhaps he was on the brink of insanity, perhaps he had crossed that line already. His prey had been taken away for him…how long he had gone on, barely surviving on what meager food was provided for him, he did not remember, not anymore. He could barely think through this haze of stomach-wrenching hunger. But they could not stop him. He would not allow it to happen, not now, when he was so close.
He slunk along, body crouched close to the ground, feline and slender. He was a predator in his natural environment, and there was his prey, in the open and vulnerable. The hunter was in his element, with nothing barring him from his goal now.
And what fine prey it was. Plump and meaty—he could practically taste it already—and completely oblivious to the him, who was slowly advancing, closing in on his meal. He tensed, preparing to strike.
When it was too late for his prey, he roared. Without hesitation, he pounced.
Danny and Sam entered the kitchen just in time to see Tucker do a fabulously gay cross between a pirouette and a hop-skip onto the counter, even managing to make a strange, hair-raising shriek that sounded like a duck being strangled by its own intestines. Or a man being forcefully castrated with a pair of chopsticks.
Take your pick.
The pair stood frozen as Tucker misjudged his jump, smashing his head against the cupboard an inch above him. Though dazed and bleeding freely (and in possession of a severe concussion, doctors in the emergency room would tell him half an hour later), he shook it off, proceeding to maul a hamburger sitting on the counter in a spectacular display of flying bits of processed meat.
"Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick," Sam groaned.
"Yeah, well, this is what you get for blackmailing him into staying on a vegetarian diet for a week."
Er, I suppose a review is out of the question now?