Last night he plaintively stated that "no one ever FEEDS me", when I was eating, despite my apartment mate having done so earlier, at which time he scarfed down fully half of her meal. Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom! He ate so much yesterday that he felt bloated and belched for the rest of the evening.
While speculating about little meatballs.
Furry ambulatory little meatballs.
With a cute hairbow
HUNGRY BUZZARD (CATHARTES AURA)
In his world, meatballs are what little girl hamsters are. One of whom (Clarissa) visits nearly each day with her grampa (Basil). The other creatures love having them over. Sydney Fylbert drools. And then gets either poked in the hurty place with a stick, or threatened with a fierce aura till he skulks away.
"No one ever feeds me! It's been so long!"
When I left this morning he was wailing about 'fatty inner thighs'. Which, he insists, I can and must harvest from the bitter old fossils in Marin whom I babysit. I muttered something rude when I closed the door, because heck will freeze over before I break the law and harvest body bits from useless old men.
Although, I suppose that if I carve them up for turkey vulture food and weasel bait, they would no longer be useless. So it's worth considering.
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