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... not the right thing—yes, yes, taste it with mayonnaise! That's the way. That's how you eat chicken!"

Yeah. No idea what that was about. But it felt right.

Then I felt something warm and scaly on my face.

Soft. Tiny. Breathing.

"Huh? My dog?"

Wait... I don't have a dog.

I don't even like pets.

I panicked, reached out, and grabbed whatever it was—long, kinda squishy, like a lizard—and screamed,

"NOOO! FREAKING LIZARD IN MY BED!"

...

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