This morning, Nebula was eating my face.
You heard that right.
Every morning, about seven--which is an hour before I get up--the cat bounds in with wet paws. Could be dew from his morning excursion, or it could be water from the dog bowl--we'll never know. He purrs, he sticks his head under my hand, and he drools.
On my face.
I am mostly asleep at this point--maybe ninety percent.
So he licks the drool off. And licks and licks and licks. And I can sense the hunger stirring within... so delicious. Good human. Much salt. Wonderful human. I loves it... I loves it... I want to--
"No," I mumble, moving my head. "No bitting."
So he starts licking again. Good human. So tasty. Wonderful human. Mmmm... I loves it... I want to... I want to...
"No."
I want to... I want to... I want to...
"Knock it off."
Please let me... please... oh, it tastes so good... so very good...
And today, my husband whispers, threatening as a troll. "Stop. Eating. People."
No! You taste delicious!
And then he bit my nose.
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