I can't listen to Momma no more today, acause she been all full of foolish talk. I tole her I can't eat these broccolis, Momma, and she sayed they's fun, Georgie. Like eatin' little trees. But giraffes eat trees, Momma; I's a Boxer Dog. Then offer it up for the Souls in Purgatory, George. Which, it turns out; they ain't even here. They's off somewheres waitin' to get into Heaven. And prawly they doesn't like broccoli, either. IT'S A SACRIFICE, GEORGE. She growled worse than Grampy ever done when we moves the furniture around. So I ate it. I hope she ain't catchy.