V bit through three tables last night. All at once. They were the kind of makeshift tables constructed out of old doors with their knobs removed. They had been holding up my domino display. As well as my glass bells and little wire angels. And three ongoing games of checkers.
V decided to demonstrate his multi-stomach digestive process to a Rolling Stone reporter and needed to devour something with a variety of fibers. He bit clean through the tables, demolished six chairs and fought a wasp's nest.
Then he threw himself down a flight of stairs and recited famous speeches and poems til dawn.
I busied myself with coupons for detergents and silent prayer.
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