Long-hair won’t leave well enough alone–always pestering me with goofy faces. Do I look amused? Then she hands me off to Bristle-face, who, let’s be honest, doesn’t have a clue how to change my loincloth. How do you put my loincloth on inside-out and backwards? Serves Bristle-face right, that Long-Hair got real mad and shook that irritating rattle at him right after that loincloth incident. Speaking of clothes, why do I have to wear these ridiculous onesies. Do they think I’m a professional wrestler? Well, I’ll show them–just wait, I’ll spit up on Long-hair’s shoulder. 

Ugh, Bristle-face is confusing my yawn with a look of surprise again. If Bristle-face covers up my eyes one more time and says “Peek-a-boo,” I’m going to set my internal alarm clock to 3 AM and wake up and say “Peek-a-boo” to him. I always find it kind of funny to hear Bristle-face muttering in the middle of the night, like a lunatic, while waiting for the portable milk dispenser to warm. Sometimes he falls asleep while holding the milk dispenser to my mouth, and I like to give him a little fright by a sudden scream, at which point he jolts a little and tilts the milk dispenser upright again.

I’m not sure why Long-hair and Bristle-face are always patting me on the back. It’s not like I’ve done anything to deserve that much praise. The only way to get them to stop is to belch, which shows you what kind of crude creatures I’m dealing with. Sometimes Long-hair even gets happy when I pass gas. I mean, I hate to clear the room, but if that’s the only way to get them to quit beating my back, then so be it. Check that, sometimes leaving a surprise in my loincloth is also effective. 

But enough bathroom talk. Sometimes I wonder if Bristle-face and Long-hair are capable of any sophisticated thoughts. They are so focused on my gastrointestinal functions that they miss the giant bright yellow ball above them. Who put that there? Everybody acts as if it doesn’t exist. They just go right on toting me around, with nary a look upward. Then they’re always shading my eyes from the brightness of the yellow ball, so I can’t get a good look at it. Sometimes they don’t even notice that the bright yellow ball is replaced with lots of bright little dots and another smaller less-bright white ball. Who put those there and why? 

These are the things I think about when drifting off to sleep at night, after Long-hair pours warm water all over me. I’ve tried and tried to voice my displeasure about this–what do I look like, a fish?–but she insists on the warm water and scrubbing routine. Though Long-hair and Bristle-face don’t seem to be the smartest creatures around, I’m starting to grow fond of them. They may not provide much stimulating conversation (usually, they look like they’re in a stupor and need some sleep), but they’re good for holding the milk dispenser and changing my loincloth. That counts for something.