Chapter IIIAt the very least about a non-ideal morning, and also about the fact of what your ideal apartment and your quite pleasant life can turn into in just 24 hours.
I dreamt that my head had ended up in some reeking maws of a beast, for sure, a tiger’s, and I, accordingly, was a courageous trainer. I wasn’t fearful, but the odor was excessively bothersome; the saliva of that beast made my face wet. Suddenly my leg jerked, and I felt my knee touching something slimy, maybe it was my intestines. I shuddered and woke up. And I saw the mug of the beast right above me. It wasn’t a dream. It was Terry, who had put his front paws on my collarbones. He shamelessly thrust out his tongue. Never in my life was such a disgusting object next to my face. He stank of digested hotdogs. Terry dripped
