Dad shot me a wide-eyed look. "Studmuffin?"

There was no time to explain. My familiar leaped into the air toward Dad. His cape, which was my blue bath towel with a dryer sheet still stuck to it, waved out behind him. He gripped one corner in his little kitty mouth.

I had no idea what he was doing or what he was planning. All I knew for sure was that my familiar was soaring right for my dad's head, the claws in his white murder mittens on full display.

Time slowed. ...