Max and I were in the park. In the warmth of my home, going out had seemed like a good idea - the morning frost glistened on the eyebrows of the tramp in my tree-house, the breeze lifted stray newspapers and sent them into the faces of elderly dears, and the whole world looked like some sort of snow-globe. Or something, I don't really remember. But anyway, it looked nicer when I was inside in the warm.
Which reminds me, must throw some more fire out to the tramp. Not too much, of course, tree-houses are flammable. Besides, I need my fire. Prometheus went to a lot of effort to get my that fire, not to mention the personal expense. Oh, and the eagle-innards thing.
Actually, I don't trust the tramp with fire. He certainly couldn't manage his hedge fund, which is why he's in my tree-house. I charge him rent. You're probably ashamed of me, shaking your head in disgust. But let me tell you, he's not a nice man. He keeps pretending he's a chesnut, and when I'm out, he steals my bed linen to make flags.
But I digress, where was I? Oh yea, don't trust him with fire. So I think I'll freeze the tree-house with liquid nitrogen, so when I give him the fire, he won't go making mischief.
It seems the most humane thing to do...
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