So the humans have made a little effort to shovel off the table. It is now possible, at least, to see the table. There is still some clutter left, however.
This small pamphlet was made by the human female. Sigyn is quite fond of scones and is very enthusiastic. I shall reserve judgement until I ascertain whether those wavy lines emanating from said scones represent fragrant steam or whiffs of putrefaction.
Rum-raisin scones? Intriguing, but why not use the real thing?
You, madam, are a sissy.
There is plenty of junk left in the rest of the room. Note this beverage bottle:
Neither of the humans drinks this concoction. None of their frequent guests drink this concoction. Note how dusty and collapsed the bottle is! I’d claim credit for hiding it from view, but I think this predates my arrival on Midgard. This is left from a six-pack they purchased for some visitor years and years and years ago. Unbelievable. No! Wait! Stop! Do NOT just wash it off and put it back. Throw the damned thing out, already.
All right, mortals, what about this? “E” for “Explain.” “E” for “egregious hoarding.” “E” for “I can’t bEliEvE thEy kEpt this!”
The human female says the male picked this up off the floor of the garage where her car was towed after it was totaled. That’s right. Blame someone else.
What have you got there, Sigyn? If I had to guess, I’d say it is the cap off a tube of caulk—
But I could be wrong.