|Espresso as "Mr. Spressos"|
|Espresso, "I think the black and white levels the viewing field."|
Good Evening, Everybunn!
The hoomin walked into his room and went blind from an intense, narrow beam of light. He instinctively tried to shield his eyes with the palm of his hand and hoped to see the assailer. The light beam wondered about the hoomin's face and came to rest focused on one particular spot of the hoomin's mug.
"Oh, that's hideous, Mr. Hoomin!" said a voice, presumably of whoever was shinning the light. Then, the hoomin recognized the intruder - it had to be Mr. Spressos.
The hoomin made a motion with his mouf trying to say something and stopped. He was too tired, too tired to speak without hissing when all he could do is hiss. He wanted to scream. When the hoomin's temporary crown refused to stay in place the other day, he gave up. He got used to the gap in his mouf, feeling the little stump where a proper toof used to be.
"Yeah, that looks like a baby incisor coming in, Mr. Hoomin. You know, there was an error in the glue formula," Mr. Spressos' voice trailed off. The Hoomin nodded eagerly.
"It was not unicorn spittle you needed. It was dragon phlegm. Of course, I couldn't tell you that back then. I hope you understand how risky it would have been if such information got out." said Mr. Spressos. The hoomin tried to lunge toward the light, but the beam wiggled left to right across the hoomin's face stopping him dead cold.
"Now, now, Agent Hoomin! There's no need for that. You wouldn't ignore your social distancing obligations, would you?" said Mr. Spressos soothingly.
The hoomin became still again and tried to say something and gave up.
"I know, Mr. Hoomin; you lost another crown last week. You just can't catch a break, can you? I don't have to tell you how sorry I am," Mr. Sressos went on reading the hoomin's mind. The poor hoomin just tilted his head to the side, wondering how Spressos knew about the second crown popping off.
"Turn around, Mr. Hoomin, go stand in the corner and face the wall," ordered Mr. Spressos. The dejected hoomin obeyed.
"Mr. Hoomin, try that dragon phlegm. And next time, try to ask the Mrs. to chew your onion sandwich for you!" said Mr. Spressos as he left the room, shutting the door and leaving the hoomin in the dark.
We'll keep you posted,
Oh bad news .. we need things to get better here. Hoomins need their teeth ...
Onion sandwiches must be the culprit for this madness! Just say NO to Onion Sandwiches!
I'm thinking just saty NO2?
Sorry, meant to say "say."
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