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[copyblob]

So today, there's a little pink blob on the farm. It's pink. Also, a blob.

The narration promises that it will probably not envelop and digest you in its glutinous depths.

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[truth_sometimes]

There is a blob in front of him.

He has a cane.

Poke. Poke.

C'mon, anybody'd do the same thing.

[copyblob]

Poke poke poke D:, House. D:.

"Diiiiiiiiiiitto," it says reproachfully, and turns into his cane in self-defence.

[truth_sometimes]

"Okay, even for around here, you're weird."

Pause.

Grudgingly: "Sorry I poked you. Can you not be my cane now? She'll get jealous."

[copyblob]

Canes... don't have ears.

Alas.

On the other hand, this makes them not much fun to be, even when in dire need to not be poked. So Ditto becomes its lovable blobby self again, and peers up at House with its adorable buggy little eyes.

"To?"