Punkin, I am anxiously awaiting your return this evening. The little people, in what I assume is an attempt to melt me or at least drive me out of my mind, have begun to spew the contents of their stomachs out of their mouths and onto my hands. Though I felt no pain, I cannot be certain of future reprocussions. I did feel a small amount of life leave my body as, what I believe to be some of the food I had thrown at their open mouths a few moments before, was hurled back at me with the force of a firehose. I am frightened, and am beginning to think there may not be enough vino in the world to sustain me until you are home.