DAMROTH
Damroth chortled. He had no other option. When the ability to simper had been forcefully removed from him on the previous Tuesday, chortling had been the only means of expression left for him to utilize. And so he chortled at the red table of scraps set before him. He chortled when the red table of scraps was removed and replaced with a blue table of ripe melons. When the blue table was followed by the yellow, the green, the brown, Damroth chortled. The experimenters nodded approval and sent Damroth home.
‘Honey, I’m home,’ said Damroth on entering his domicile.
‘Ah, good,’ said Mrs. Damroth, leaping down from where she had been standing on the mantelpiece pretending to be an explorer.
Mr. and Mrs. Damroth chortled. 13 of their 14 children raced into the room, chortling. Missy, the 14th child, simpered.
‘Missy’s turn tomorrow,’ said Damroth, chortling.
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