The human female receives an alarming amount of what she deems “junk mail” at her place of employment. A consequence, no doubt, of purchasing all manner of disgusting/hazardous/baffling lab supplies. The catalog that has arrived today, however, appears to have nothing to do with her job and everything to do with that upcoming Midgardian holiday devoted to frightening people, costumes, trickery, and the consumption of unsafe quantities of sugar–all things at which I excel.
I believe I shall have to place an order. I think some of these need to find their way into the human female’s shoes. Or her lunch.
No, wait! These! These! Or some of both?
But why should I buy things only for her? I deserve a present! Look–tiny minions whose eyes bulge in a most satisfactory way when you squeeze them!
If I order now, they should just make it in time….