>>5151686Bait now firmly in hand, you prep <span class="mu-b">STEP 2</span> of your devious plan: cautiously tiptoeing closer to the beast's new lair, you keep your mop close in hand as the raccoon licks its toothy chops from the safety of the boxes!
"Easy, cupcake," Ly warns, "dis' one's fast..."
Yea, you hiss, you <span class="mu-i">noticed!</span> Placing the plate in the center of the room near the operating chair, you back off a bit and wait. Sure enough, the beast cautiously emerges from its hiding spot moments later--its glowing green eyes locked on you as it approaches the bait! Standing still, you watch as the woodland critter begins tearing into the toast with ravenous gusto! It's almost kinda cute, you think, when it isn't trying to <span class="mu-i">bite</span> you, that is!
"Reminds me of you eatin' pizza." Ly remarks. Cool it, dick! Sometimes you just don't want to get stuff all over your hands! It's <span class="mu-i">EFFICIENT!</span> Completely absorbed by their meal, the raccoon fails to notice you slowly approaching with your <span class="mu-g">MOP</span> at your side.
"So," your bones begin, "What's next?"
You were planning on bashing this thing into a new <span class="mu-g">FUR HAT,</span> but as you step closer you're taken off-guard by a quick glance from <span class="mu-r">STANLEY'S</span> saucer-wide eyes! Shoveling the toast into their mouth like some kind of cat, something about the experiment tugs one of your heartstrings...
"Stan?" Ly asks, clearly sensing your murderous intent fading, "What's wrong <span class="mu-i">now</span>?"
You're not sure, you whisper, but you can't help but feel... <span class="mu-i">connected</span> to this critter, somehow...
"<span class="mu-s">HA!</span> Dat's rich!" Ly snorts as you spot a <span class="mu-g">BEATEN-UP CAGE</span> inside the closet out of the corner of your eye! "First we track down yer' great, great, grandpa, <span class="mu-i">now</span> we've found da' <span class="mu-b">PROTO-STAN!</span>"
You make a mental note to hurt your bones later as you mentally line up the trajectory you'll need to knock the furball into the cage. It's risky, you conclude, but come on--it hasn't done anything <span class="mu-i">you</span> wouldn't do to a stranger! As if hearing your thoughts, the raccoon takes a break from scarfing down the food to give you a look bordering on... <span class="mu-i">gratefulness?</span>
Sorry, fuzzball, you mutter through your smile, but you've gotta go home now... waiting for the raccoon to go back to feeding, you punctuate your sentence with a golf swing of your mop!
<span class="mu-s">THWACK!</span>
>CONTD. 