Mateo
Mateo's exaggerated expression of horror and disgust at abba-stanza zucchini is honestly the stuff of Christmas cards, and were it not for the globs of icing he needs to mould into diabetic perfection, he'd have corrected his friend. Or he'd have slapped him across the face - Mateo isn't sure. Alas, they aren't going to be able to dwell on it for much longer, because at that moment in time their cat apparently attempts to hobble them.
Yelping can be musical on Christmas, and Mateo proves it as he jumps with shock and spins to look at the furry culprit. In a show of comedic errors (naturally), he's holding a spoon covered in icing as he turns, of which some gloops onto Petunia, followed by a smattering of snowflake sprinkles.
"Oh fuck," Mateo has time to say, before the yowling ball of sticky fur is bolting across the impeccably decorated apartment and straight into their Christmas tree. A few baubles cheerfully bonk along the floor, and Petunia hisses. "I suppose she will not want her presents yet."
Yelping can be musical on Christmas, and Mateo proves it as he jumps with shock and spins to look at the furry culprit. In a show of comedic errors (naturally), he's holding a spoon covered in icing as he turns, of which some gloops onto Petunia, followed by a smattering of snowflake sprinkles.
"Oh fuck," Mateo has time to say, before the yowling ball of sticky fur is bolting across the impeccably decorated apartment and straight into their Christmas tree. A few baubles cheerfully bonk along the floor, and Petunia hisses. "I suppose she will not want her presents yet."
i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
i'm not as think as you drunk i am
