Gloryosky, Your Manliness! As per your instructions, I have been hunkered down here at the large-jawed woman's less than palatial estate in Littlerock! You were right, O Girdle of the Thighs of Theta! I was able to burrow down into one of the several padded pieces of furniture that she keeps out for her "pets". I think that she has spotted me several times, but there are so many beasts kept in doleful captivity in this place that I think she just assumes I am one of them. Anyway, she now calls me "Mr. Grumpy Paws" because I have bitten her several times when she has almost sat herself down upon me. Fortunately, my teeth usual don't do any damage because she is well-padded in the rear. In fact, there are times when she unknowingly crushes the occasional cat or small dog when she throws herself onto the upholstered furniture and doesn't even realize it!

Things here are not good. At least once a day the large-jawed woman staggers out of her domicile with another stack of clothing and tosses it into a great heap of rubbish. No one ever comes by to see her, either. I hate to say it, but I think it may be because she is now giving off a rather distinctive odor, much like the eeko plant on Theta --- I mean, France! Those who live closest to her less than palatial home have taken to throwing rocks and bricks into the yard with clever messages attached to them: "Go Home!", "Go Away!" and "Will you please stop your animals from shitting all over my yard?" Every once in awhile someone climbs over the fence and takes a picture. There was a doozy a few weeks ago; the large-jawed woman is down to her last few outfits, and this one was something that no one would want to remember. So of course someone took a picture!

She doesn't have anyone to talk to, as her human offspring seems content to sit in front of the communications screen of his computer and stare at pictures of undressed female Terrans. I think he is like his maternal unit in their shared love of animals, because from what I can see, the unclad Terran females are frequently depicted with animals themselves, and boy, do they like animals in the pictures!

Once in awhile the large-jawed woman will throw herself down on the upholstered furniture and mutter to herself while ignoring the smells of urination and defecation that waft up from the cushions (I only wish that I could, Your Immensity, so if you can beam down the Febreeze that I asked for, I would be ever so grateful!) Mostly she just says "Patrick! Rob! Bob!" over and over again, but every so often she will add "It's about damn time Jim sent me a check!"

Can I come home anytime soon?