Maxwell was a good boy. He thought so, at least.
His human loved him dearly, so she gave him a treat.
A little stuffed monkey that rattled and squeaked.
A gift for Little Lord Fauntleroy, my little boy Maxie!
Success. Six solid hours of exuberant play.
Jasper the monkey was adored and enjoyed, and forever here to stay.
But Jasper met an unfortunate end. Maxwell played too rough.
Into the graveyard of mangled friends. Jasper was taken and put up.
Maxwell understood nothing. Just what did he do?
Where did his human take Jasper to?
He saw her with him. "Please, human, give him back to me."
He stared at her for literally hours, very uncomfortably.
Unbeknownst to his human, this subject wouldn't be dropping.
Unbeknownst to Maxwell, he took up a hobby that was much widely known as "stalking."
Staring, accusing, and holding a grudge.
"Where is it, human. Give. Him. Up."
His human was baffled! Why not play with something else?
You play too much, too rough, enough... please control yourself.
This is not a new routine. Human sees that things are broke.
Goddammit, you destructive Chewbacca, how the hell did you break a rope?
Honestly, how did you break a knot? You spoiled tiny brat.
No, what the fu- it's broken. You're not getting it back.
Your human will get you a new toy very, very soon.
Now, please get all of your other toys and please get out of the bathroom.
no no nO NO NO STOP THE COUCH IS NOT WHERE YOU LEFT IT.
Maxwell did not understand the phrase: "You little piece of shit."
Maxwell grew weary. Still looking but with an injured spirit
...and a mournful sorrowed whimper, if anyone could hear it.
But wait. His human. Did she say, "Maxie want treat?"
He stood frozen as he perched and perked at a high pitched squealing squeak.
Maxwell grabbed at the plastic, not fragile like cloth.
He shot like a bullet from a smoking gun, into the air and took off.
A new toy! A new joy!
A very happy little boy.
You little piece of shit.
(Who I'm in love with.)