Somewhere, in an overly festive kitchen, Mr. Tickles licked his lips and purred softly. With a flick of the mouse, he scrolled down to scan the freds in the Coffeehouse. He licked his white left forepaw and brushed his silky hair as he read. His gaze shifted to the floor, staring blankly at the prone body of his previous servant.
Mr. Tickles would solve this "People" problem once and for all, even if he had to do it one by one.