Doppler blinked.
He missed everything in that one blink.
"Wha'?"

His uncle, however, was not so lucky.
Foucault reared back as his table was flipped over, falling backwards onto his head with a thud, legs kicked up over the overturned table.

That wasn't very pleasant.
He pulled himself back up with some effort, rubbing his aching head and back, and eyeing the creature that had caused such chaos.
Next to it, the dog sat, panting with a bit of a whine as he lay halfway buried by the table.

He glanced over at the mess on the ground.
There had gone his meal.

With a sigh, he stepped forward and folded his fingers around the table's edge, and began to push it off of the pair underneath it.
The dog managed to slip out, and him step away, just before a board came flying in and smacked the creature on the face as it was standing up.

"Well," said Foucault, staring.
The strange beast seemed down for the count.

His eyes passed over to the man working the grill, noting a small twitch in body and facial muscles.
Had he been hurt?

He looked around as the question rose into the air.
Seemed his whole family had somehow escaped unharmed--besides the new ache in his own bones, anyhow....