At least it’s not all the time I suppose.
Seems even animal’s like eating snow. That’s cool.
It’s not very. He eats it off the ground and sometimes there’s stuff in it an’ then he throws up.
It’s all quite disgusting.
Does that happen often?
He likes to eat snow, so he’s doing that.
Now I have a feeling that it just got worse. Stubborn and he isn’t moving. Have you tried using one of his favorite treats assuming he has a favorite? Maybe he’d move for that.
Been there, done that.
Looks like ‘m gonna stay on th’sidewalk for a bit.
That’s not sounding too good.
Misha’s m’dog. An’ he’s massive. An’ stubborn.
Misha’s decided t’sit still an’ not move, so I can’t get him into th’house an’ I can’t take him for a walk either.
Think ‘m stuck.
“Doesn’t all this talking make your lips hurt?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in curiosity “Or throat?” He added. Harry was a singer, so he knew how much painful it could be to consecutively sing, or talk, for the matter of fact.
“I don’t think Riley’s party is a costume party,” he absently said. “But I would love it if it would be though,” he continued. “Imagine all of us, wearing cheesy costumes. Quite a scene, that would be.” He chuckled to himself, his minds wondering over what Alice would wear. Something really scary, he thought to himself. “Well, um.” He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. “You could be the female robin. And you’re the sidekick because you’re shorter,” he laughed, completely aware of the fact that he shouldn’t be taking advantage of his height.
“Now that we are talking about bodies; confession time, I have four nipples.” He said, raising four of his fingers. He gave her a little shrug. “Its either very disgusting or fascinating.”
Harry laughed. “What’s wrong with a little bit of flirting?” He asked, taking his phone and dialing the number of Jeanette Hudkins. His number was on private so the receiver won’t be able to trace him back. “I mean, you’re only young once.” He said as he hit the ‘call’ button. He really hoped that Jeanette wasn’t married. Or old. Like really old.
"Sometimes," Faye admitted, smiling sheepishly. Of course her throat hurt sometimes - all the time, her mind corrected - but it wasn’t her fault her friends were normally never talkers like she was, right? Besides, tea and Strepsils generally combated the soreness fairly well. They were indeed a formidable team. “But tea helps. Even if it doesn’t taste all that good,” she added, making a face.
"Why cheesy costumes? Costumes need t’be original!" she exclaimed, pounding her fist on the table for emphasis before hiding the wince the action produced by turning it into a mock glare. "That can’t be fair! It’s nor m’fault I don’t like t’drink milk just like that. I still eat dairy products, y’know. An’ I’ll grow at some point. So shush," she ordered, bringing a slender finger to her lips.
She contemplated for a moment, narrowing her eyes. “It’s fascinating,” she decided, refraining from pounding her fist on the wooden glass table once more. “Where’d they come from? Didn’t think you’d need them,” she said cheekily.
"Nothing at all, Harry Edward," Faye said, leaning back into the soft cushions and half-closing her eyes drowsily. She was always so tired nowadays - it was awful. "Unless y’hurt ‘em. Then it’s bad. Really bad. Anyway." She leaned in closer in an attempt to listen. "Is it ringing?"
'S cold outside today, so 'm all dressed up as a marshmallow!
I’ve known him for only a few days, but I think he’s nice. Maybe I’ll like him later, but I barely know ‘im right now.