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Updated: May 7, 2025
Chocolate arsenic, you mean! My damn-fool days are over." "What's got you, Max? Didn't you buy him for me yourself that day at the races five whole years ago? Wasn't the first things you asked for, when you woke in the hospital with your burns, me and and Snookie? What's soured you, Max? What? What?" "I'm soured on seeing a strapping, healthy woman sniveling over a little sick-eyed cur.
A cold tear oozed through one of Miss Munroe's closed eyes, zigzagged down her face, and she laid her cheek pat against the white wool. "Muvver just wishes she was dead, Snookie. God! don't she just!" An hour she lay so. The morning sunshine receded, leaving a certain grayness in the cluttered room.
"Was muvver's ittsie Snookie Ookie such a hungry bow-wow?" He yapped shortly, pawing her. "Ask big bossie sitting over there carving his din-din if him got chocolate tandy in him pocket like always for Snookie Ookie. No, no, bad red meat no good for ittsie bittsie bow-wow. Go ask big bossie what him got this time in him pocket for Snookie.
The small bunch in her arms raised his head and regarded her with pink, sick little eyes, his tongue darting this way and that in an aftermath of relish; then fell to licking her bare forearm with swift, dry strokes. "Muvver's ittsie bittsie Snookie! Him love him poor muvver! Him poor, poor muvver!"
"No more tandy! Make ittsie Snookie Ookie sick! Make muvver's ittsie bittsie bow-wow sick! No! No!" Each admonition she accompanied with a slight pat designed to intimidate further display of appetite.
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