“Hmm.” He drummed his claws upon his big, purple chin. “I suppose you must show her how caring you can be. Have you tried making her some jambrewskies?” “Making her some what?” “Jamgiggities.” “I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.” “Clothes they sleep in! You must know the sort. Jamburritos.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in me. “I really thought you’d know what human jamchiladas were by now.” “Warden Tenn, I must advise you that, in my professional opinion, you’re probably having a stroke.” He did not appear alarmed. “It’s a human word. Don’t blame me. It’s not as if I came
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