Feed me, Seymour! Or, Bob. Really anyone will do.
I hate sitting for portraits, but sometimes one
simply must indulge the peasants.
I can reach you from here. You know that right?
Eeeeek, a peeping paparazzi!
Are you really leaving again? I’z gonna cry.
Carrot tops:
Both kinds:
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 31 2009, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)