I’m actually going to call a pause there again. I can smell a big storm a-brewin’, and after spending two hours on detailed analysis where my browser crashed twice while trying to make a single post, I’m worn out. Gonna tackle the rest of the episode tomorrow.
In a little house, by the seaside, was a polar bear in his rocket chair, looking out the window. “Sky is looking grey, Grover. A storms a brewin’ out there.” The shark-dog in his lap barked in response, looking out at the window as well.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Visitors? He never got visitors. Unless it was some pesky reporter asking about his daughter again. Grover jumped off his owner’s lap and ran to to door, barking and growling like a maniac. Walter hushed him and went to the door, opening it slowly. “Hello?”