He frowns slightly, more confused than disappointed. "Dang. I have to eat like, five pounds of fresh meat a day. Like, real fresh. Hot-off-the-bone fresh. It was a lot easier during the war, but now I mostly eat at the abattoir. They let me drink the blood if I work there for half wage, and that works."
He reaches out a soft, clawless paw and gently touches the guy's face. "What's your name, by the way?"
"Oh, uh..." The guy trails off, gently running a hand along his other arm. "Don't really have one. Lot of names other people've given me. Been called a lot of things. I'm not really in love with any of their monikers, so I've just stayed away from the topic."
He scratches a small patch of fuzz growing on his chin. "Hey, what if I became your family and you gave me a name?" he asks. "We're both missing something, and we could give it to the other."
The little guy nods and smiles. "How about Bimothy? Bim for short."
"Bim." The man's voice crackles with delight. "But what about my puppet? Should he have a name?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Build us a door And rest here with me Lights are on But nobody's home... extended sig
"Bim." The man's voice crackles with delight. "But what about my puppet? Should he have a name?"
Build us a door
And rest here with me
Lights are on
But nobody's home...
extended sig
"Wumbozauce." He says confidently. "Wumbo for short."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels