As he trotted over to examine what was left of the carcass, he recalled--just in time!--that jp had warned him that squirrel brains were not part of a wholesome diet. Can that have been what Mary Baines Crowley had tried to feed him, chopped finely and mixed with a little chicken stock and thyme, just before the fatal accident?
He was well-satisfied with his work that day; he'd done a good job. He wondered, in fact, why it was that Penni never asked him to help with her perpetual car problems. Silly woman! Why did she think mechanics and sixteen year old boys possessed his knowledge? She would not learn, though at least she'd never fed him squirrel brains.
Never mind Penni, though. She had a cat, and Bilbo did not like cats. Alexa, tease that she was, shared his felinophobia. He bent to examine his privates, remembering as he did so the light touch of her long sensitive fingers on his silky ears. He drooled again, and snuffled lasciviously... |
