A forcefield has them trapped in one part of the room. I didn't learn til it was too late, that I was their warden. Occasionally I'd hear them arguing with each other. I might look over to see them ringing necks. "Mind your own business, pal." They're small too. As tall as a boot. "Watch your step, your majesty." One of them says, and I look over and Daffy screams as he clutches his foot squeezing it as it glows red like a traffic light. I lower my head and rest. I smell cigar smoke. Porky strangles Daffy, gently. Tight. Very tight. Almost too, tight. Too tight? he was for a time, loose, too loose. Too loose? too loose.
— Andy Heck Boyd, 2021