Death betide the manufacturers of talking toys with motion sensors that trigger whenever a squirrel breaks wind in the next town over. Like this thing from the imps at Tonka:
Cute? Oh, we thought so when Santa brought it to Beast for Christmas. But it won't. shut. up. At 1:30 in the morning..."LOOK...GARBAGE!"
"THAT STINKS!"
Which naturally terrifies Herman, who's already inclined to flip out at the slightest provocation. Here's this skinny little ten-pound cat, who somehow makes the noise of a team of Clydesdales when he's running around in a panic. His chubbier sister? Stone feline predatory silence. At any rate, the end result of the toy-triggered commotion is the same - a rude awakening from another one of those dreams where I'm telling Katherine Heigl and Scarlett Johansson to stop fighting over me because I am very much already spoken for, thank you very much.
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