>Gilmore: Zoey’s awake!! Yay! Zoey! Zoey! Can I smell your butt? And lick your feet? Yay Zoey! Where are ya goin’? Can I come? Let’s go in the play room! Yay! Wanna bite my ears? Yay! Wanna sit on my back? Bounce on my belly? Yay! Wanna pull out my fur? Wanna drool on me? Yay! Oooh! You’re in your high chair! I love it when you give me cheerios! And grapes! And graham crackers! And whatever that was that just came out of your mouth! Yum! You’re my bestest friend ever!
Boomer: Oh dear god. That Thing is still here. It does not amuse me. Why is It not intimidated by me? Does It not know that 5 of my 6 ends are sharp and pointy? Why must It follow me? Why must It try and ‘pet’ me? It is not schooled in Swedish massage techniques and is an insult to my very existence. It should not be allowed near me. It should go without saying that I can’t be bothered to move away from It because of my vast superiority. That Thing has poor personal hygiene and can not be tolerated. How will I survive another day with It?