Good evening, Everybun!
It’s been a boring and quiet day. Cold outside and cozy inside. The biped pretended to keep his distance from us and thought we wouldn’t notice him sneaking around; he pretended to nap just to listen to Charlie snore, brought plates of treats only to see just how far out our tucks are.
He’s just grateful for us, for those moments, for taking care of Charlie, for catering to our whims and thumps.
He wants to art again tonight, and we’ll let him if the treats are right.
But something feels terribly, terrificly off. There is no big canvas sitting on the easel. Literally nothing big going on. We only supervise sketch and such. Where are those promised, big, Charlie pieces I kept hearing about? And where’s the big one of me!? All I’ve seen these past few months are sketchbooks, and now he’s drooling over some old, round, slide rule. I mean, what the thump!?
Good night and good luck!
- Gus
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