When Big D escaped the other night and returned as an alien abductee, he also returned with a little souvenir of his adventure: fleas. This is offensive to me, as the fleas have migrated from Big D, though you’d think there’s be enough of him to go around, and now me and my delicate skin are harassed by vermin.
I am getting my revenge on the slaves by constantly scratching while on their dining table and in the Typing Slave’s precious recliner. Why am I revenging myself on the slaves when it’s Big D who brought this plague upon us, you ask? Because they’re the dumb butts who let him out in the first place. At least, we’re operating under the assumption it’s him. I haven’t tricked him into Pink Thing’s bath yet to see if he can breathe under water.