This must be some kind of punishment. Not for anything as serious as trying to take over the world, but halfway there at least. Salem wasn't about to claim that he was sympathetic, though, and had to keep his focus firmly on this welcoming door, where he could see invitingly warm lights beyond the windows, and where he paced anxiously without the thumbs to let himself inside.

"Milk is seasonal?!" he said, aghast. "How long will I have to wait? What about all of the chocolate cookies, how will we eat those before they go stale? I hate a stale cookie, one of life's greatest disappointments."