My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is the real deal. She had me dig my grave yesterday so we'll be ready when the big day comes. For now though, she's using it as the temporary Eeeps Family garbage pit and cat litter recycling center. I think maybe I can hardly wait.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, has been a bit sleepy as of late. While she naps I am required to lie on the floor at the foot of her bed and shoo away the rats. (They love her dearly, possibly even more than I do, but they cause her no end of sneezy fits.)
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is flying a flag of truce. Once she gets it properly aired out and is sure that all the spider nests have been shaken free, she wants me to wear it for a while, or at least until I offer to surrender. Until then there's a good chance that she'll probably keep shooting.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, invited me to the Eeeps Family ritual end-of-year pig immolation. It's quite a thing down at the Eeeps Family compound. (And no, they don't actually burn any pigs. These days they just show their "grand prize winner") a photo album of days gone by and generally receive complete compliance. Instead of a ritual bonfire, the family forms a ring and dances around the lucky porker while holding aloft an array of flaming torches. After they're all tuckered out from the dancing, they slaughter the pig (SURPRISE!) and roast it, so some things haven't changed, but at least the agonized squealing is a thing of the past, and the meal is pretty much as good without any of it.
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, is experimenting. She wants to make strawberry shortcake with wheels, for people who prefer their dessert to go. One distinct obstacle will be training desserts to follow simple commands like "go", "stay", "serve yourself", and so on. So far, she's gotten a dog or two to cooperate, but they don't taste good, even with whipped cream. Still...
My love, Echinoia Eeeps, wants to build a new home for her pet budgie, Hermann the Terminator. She wants this thing made from common and natural materials like dirt, twigs, and dried elephant droppings. (Natural to her world, more or less.) I'm supposed to be in charge, since my appearance doesn't usually frighten Hermann, though it can at times send him into a homicidal rage, which is the story of what happened to the local kindergarten teacher a while back, if you remember those headlines. But luckily we have a lot of elephant turds around here, and my body armor is all polished and up-to-date, budgie-wise.
