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Chapter 42. The Farm, Part I
PREVIEW
... foot of the bed where he’s melted into a half-lump, half-blob puddle of bored goo. He perks up immediately—if a sentient glob of living ooze can be said to perk—squishing up into a jellier, more alert posture with an enthusiastic burble that probably translates to something like yay, food or finally, you people stopped talking. Never change, Jelly Boy. Never change.
“Come on, you lil’ weirdo,” I mutter affectionately, giving his squishy head a pat. “Let’s see what culinary horrors await ...
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