RIP Sir Matt Fuzzby.
Whatever will be said from here on out...I want it known that he put up a god-damned good fight before they took him down. Murdering sons of Public Admin. bitches. "All the martial arts in the world won't help you if you don't have apposable thumbs," I would always say...but the little bugger would never listen. He'ld just keep doing his laps in that multi-coloured plastic ball of his...while all the while asking me to keep making the maze of tubes in his cage into something akin to a "real" obstacle course...and not some fecking walk in the park that any run of the mill pet store chinchilla could navigate. It was beneath him. And we both knew it. I have to live with that now.
At least some people are walking around with less eyeballs or needing a series of tetanus shots as a result of what happened that night. Hardly an eye for an eye, though, is it?
Well...ok...maybe it is...technically speaking and all. But, feck that.
Bilal...hear me now: If you lie down with dogs...you get fleas.
And treats. And a scratched belly. Which is nice.
Savvy?
You and your Pub-Ad. cronies have the blood of an innocent on your hands. Retribution will be mine. Tread lightly. End of transmission.
'Nuff said.
Over and out.
Signing off.
TTFN.