My family is away and I've taken to eating baby octopuses for dinner. Helen and Damien consider tiny legs with suckers quite disgusting but I quite like the rubbery texture. I have noticed, however, that my morning movements have become excessively explosive. With each retort I leap from the seat and stare into the murky turd bath expecting to see arms with suckers reaching for my jugular. Even the thought of them grabbing for my junk is a little repulsive. Imagination can be a curse sometimes.
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