“You are somewhat pleasant to exist around, Francine. I do believe you may have a slight chance at possibly moving on, maybe. I must deliberate with my superiors. I shall return at a point in time occurring after my forthcoming departure, or maybe not. Do not think of me, for that would not bode well. You may pass the time by thinking thoughts, as long as they don’t pertain to your likely death sentence laid upon you or your current situation in any way at all. Think of all the hunger in the world, or try to invent a series of new yo-yo tricks, maybe, but don’t do either of those since I just suggested them, and that would be indirect thoughts concerning my reality. I don’t really care what you think or do, Francine, you are not the first beast of beauty, and I have a strong feeling that you are far from the last. I hope you enjoy yourself while you can, for you may very well not be able to shortly. Also, don’t talk to the one you call “Master,” he’s kind of a dickhole. Ta-ta!” The limbful creature then ascended back into the hole in the throbbing ceiling (she was surprised that she could describe it’s appearance to an extent now, a revelation that unsettled her for some unknown reason) without another word as far as she could tell, leaving her with the apparent dickhole.
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