This is not going to work out.
The little Please, Please, Please, Please, should rest in his special chair, rocking back and forth, drooling (as he can't dribble too well) and staring at the large Emile figure mopping up. But that dove-brained Nicholson guy has all these big freedom ideas, and the little 4-Pleases idiot one has become enthralled with the possibilities. Nurse Ratchett would give him better career advice, and shoot him full of the right drugs to end it all painlessly, but the little one has culted himself to Jack. Jack, meanwhile, has tired quickly, and so has passed the small Cutesy-in-a-flea-bite-way-One on to the Blue Tranky. She lives in a shed, a falling down shed, a shed in need of decoration. Please +++ thinks she loves him, thinks he can aid the dour one in her time of change. Truth is, the Brittle-Brutal-Ball-Eyed-Honey-Haired-One only wants the Small Scampy Once-Across-The-Fieldy Stealy-Champy for his medals. To use as ear-rings.
