Something small and grey is nosing along in the grass, biting off dandelions and tonguing them into a crude bouquet (and occasionally eating one). In time, it may shuffle to the porch and up the steps, pausing and dropping the bouquet onto the decking.
"Nice day," the small plush-looking donkey says, in a deep, gloomy voice.
"...it was just a second," Sam protests, mostly out of form. "Not really any trouble at all."
...and now you're arguing with the stuffed donkey about being owed a favor. Whaaat. It's probably a bad sign, some of him observes, about how much you've had, that you're even pretending to go along with this.
Eeyore nods his head in response and shuffles back into the house, likely looking for Jaenelle. If not, he'll find a cup to put the dandelions in and sets it on a chair in the main room, with a note:
"Nice day," the small plush-looking donkey says, in a deep, gloomy voice.
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...and now you're arguing with the stuffed donkey about being owed a favor. Whaaat. It's probably a bad sign, some of him observes, about how much you've had, that you're even pretending to go along with this.
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Blankly, and just...bewildered, quite plainly, by this whole thing.
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fOr janel
frOm eor
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