Countertop Conquest

Down on the floor was child's play—the kitchen counter called for an aerial assault! I gripped the woven dishtowel hanging from a lower drawer, dug my stiff pink feet into the cotton ribs, and hauled straight up. One heave, two hops, snap! I vaulted right onto the laminate edge. Ahead stood a brushed steel breadbox with a heavy roll-top shutter. Resting right across the front handle was a brass measuring spoon marked with a pierced five-point star on its neck! I didn't flinch. I charged across the tiles, wedged my black beak under the cold spoon handle, and levered upward until it clinked free against the metal casing. Ground claimed!