That stuff looked like string, and he sprayed it all over me.
I know he wanted to tie me up, but I guess my younger person underestimated me.
That string couldn’t hold a lick to me. I could break right through it, piece of cake.
Did I say cake? Is there cake around here?
Oh. Never mind.
Back to that string.
I wrestled that string to the floor. And there it lay.
Scratchy likes to play with string. And he’s not as strong as me.
I could get him interested in playing with that stuff and then wrap him up in it.
He’d be wrapped like a cocoon before he knew what hit him.
What’s my younger person doing?
Why’d you put the string up there?