Morning call

For the second time this week, my day has started with me reaching under the bed with paper towels to mop up Ink's puke.

He does this every so often, usually after scarfing down his food, then immediately running around like a mad hatter. It's preceded by the telltale hacking sounds that suggest he's retching up a young alien creature, followed by the appearance of a pale brown puddle of gloop.

At least today, he didn't do it at 6 am.


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