My human has absolutely no taste, whatsoever. The beast will eat tacos then beer then double-mocha-fudge ice cream. All in an hour. And it is I who must put up with it. And I do. What choice do I have, he and I are one.
Well, two, technically, but from outside my host, who could tell? We naturally do utterly everything together. When I’m tired, I release special toxins which put the pathetic creature to sleep. When I’m hungry, I twist in his gut and rile his notions, and off we go. Doughnuts for everyone!
Lately though, even as I assuage his anxiety regarding his recent new employment, releasing my own concoction that soothes his nerves, he’s become reticent to do as he’s told. I need my bi-daily fix of carbs and luscious fat molecules to grow. He knows that. I’ve reminded him often enough. But even so…
For instance, just today, he insisted in downing a bottle of peptic salve. A strange feeling clay filled liquid that I frankly abhorred. Did he care? Nay. He attempted to go about his day, ignoring me and my taunts. The fool.
He should know by now who is boss in this body.
You’re right. I should be kind to my host, my Daniel. He’s given me so much. Life and luxury. And, children. In fact, they are just coming about, full of hunger themselves. Aren’t they dear?
But of course, they can’t live with us, Daniel and I. But, there’s time enough for that, after they’ve grown. After they’ve fed on sweet cakes and fatty meats, mmmm. I can feel them squirming in anticipation. Quiet my children. Soon. Soon.
And after? Daniel and I will enjoy our midnight snacks, alone, together.