It was a strange day when we decided that maybe we wouldn’t eat him after all. We thought maybe we’d try to eat the grass instead, but he didn’t actually seem happy about this. This, we did not understand. He wanted to be eaten. Who wants to be eaten? He does.

So we figured we’d eat him anyway. But he wasn’t happy with this, either. No. He argued that he didn’t want to make us do anything we didn’t want to do. So then we decided we wouldn’t eat him. Again, he complained. He wasn’t going to be happy either way, so one day we decided to discuss it. We could shut him up and just eat him in the end, but then we’d feel all guilty because he’d be b****ing as we tried to go about killing him. But, with the other option, he was still going on about how we should have eaten him in the first place.

In the end I just shot him.