Phewie it's hot!!!!
It's so hot that the Food Lady says she's afraid that she'll come home to find a little pile of ash and soot that's all that remains after I spontaneously combust. My big bruther Mao tells me to stretch out on the floor as long as I can make myself, and that will make me cooler. But I think Mao is smoking crack, because it just gits hotter and hotter and hotter. The Food Dude tries to help by soaking me with a dripping wet washcloth, but he doesn't realize that getting wet is torture to me. Yeah, it cools me off good, but the whole time I'm cool, my brain synapses are firing: "YOU'RE WET! YOU'RE WET! YOU'RE WET!" and I can't even think, I'm so upset.
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