quīnquāgintā   ūnus

"Stray Dog, what are you here for?"

He wanted to puke his rage and smack the hell of out the little and funny looking thing. He did want to try his anger out on it.

Had he been waited so long for some little and funny looking but sassily saucy thing? He didn't want to process it that way.

He could actually use a better thought. That should help figure out what he was supposed to know and do.

He didn't know which was more important; what he should know or do? He couldn't really be sure. He did want to be.

He would try all that that seem really necessary to it. He tried to supplant a new thought. Why was it that creatures with brief nature and words were always like that.

Like were saucy and don't usually have ways with words. They only bluff for sanity. They don't even know what they are doing until it's presented to them.