Quoted By:
“Ah yes, the <span class="mu-i">culprit</span>.” Officer… <span class="mu-i">W</span> replies with narrowing eye lenses. “You did a fine job bringing him in, erm, <span class="mu-i">alive</span>. You owe me five dollars, Loxley.”
The security guard on W’s right begrudgingly fishes out a handful of dollars from their kit and places it in the leader’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.” Stuffing the dough into his pocket, W turns his attention back your way. “Did you manage to obtain any more pertinent intel? This might not be th-”
Before he can finish, W and the other goons watch in awe as a familiar chubby, ill-tempered trash panda trots over to you with a smug look on her masked face and a <span class="mu-g">THREE-SCOOP MINT CHIP CONE</span> held in her jaws! Dragging Denise’s invention across the pavement behind her, the raccoon watches you with interest as the scientist in question tries to apologize from the van via a series of frantic hand gestures.
“Sir! Got eyes on a <span class="mu-r">CLONE!</span>” Barks Goon #1!
“Which one do we shoot?!” Howls the other!
“Let’s take it easy, now–” Officer W mutters as his professional demeanor falters a bit, “Just need to think of a question the real one would know… Erm… Tell us your Social Securit-”
Will they <span class="mu-i">cool it</span> already?! Snatching the cone from your pet’s jaws, you hungrily take a bite out of the top scoop and relish in the <span class="mu-b">MINTY-FRESH SENSATION</span> that subsequently fills your mouth! Itsh nod a clone, ogay? Shesh a <span class="mu-i">RAGGOON!</span>
“Ah.” W mutters as Lil’ Stanley stares daggers at you. “In that case, should you be eating that?”
Uh, <span class="mu-i">YES</span>, you reply as you attack the ice cream with a series of rapid licks! Mint Chip’s your favorite, apparently!
“Yes, but…” The Officer continues as you fend off your irate pet’s attempts to scale your leg, “I think it was eating that.”
“Definitely.” Adds Goon #1. Well they thought <span class="mu-i">wrong</span>, you counter as Stanley sinks her claws into your side and swats at the bottom of your cone! She was <span class="mu-i">bringing</span> it to you, okay? You’re uh… you’re training her!
“M’am, there are definitely some bite marks on there.” Goon #2 points out as you peel the raccoon off of you by grabbing the scruff of its neck! Yea, well, you shrug, you’ve got, like, <span class="mu-i">gloves</span>.
<span class="mu-i">PLUS</span>, you add in a baby voice holding the raccoon at arm’s length away from you, she could use a widdle diet anyways, couldn’t ya, <span class="mu-i">FATTIE?</span>
Clearly not agreeing, Lil’ Stanley thrashes around in response, showering you, Jed, the bench, and your ice cream in mouth foam. Say it, don’t spray it, punk!
>CONTD.
