Lost Creek Hollow great, i'd like your $8-est bottle of wine please

the tension in the room could be felt in every hair on his round potato body. he might not have understood what was going on, or that he was essentially being cockblocked by his own mother, but he knew that something had upset her based solely on the tension. aengus lifted his weak head, as though he was attempting to reach out to bat and beg her to stay. if he had his sights, he would have batted his pretty little baby blues at her and serenaded her sweetly into coming back to their den.

instead, he released a squeal that could have broken the sound barrier. his nubbin arms moved a few inches before he got tired of all that. tentatively, he drew his bobble head up and squeaked for his mother to rescue him; he'd wiggled a bit too far from her side and damn the world was cold.