Orville raised his head, stared, moaned.
“It’s not looking good for you, there, Orville.”
Orville reached out with both arms, tried to get to his feet, but was pulled off-balance by the chains, falling heavily back onto his rear. He hissed in anger.
“Not good at all.”
Orville moaned in hunger, mouth agape, black tongue hanging dry and bloated against his torn bottom lip.
“I had it all worked out, Orville. They was gonna let me keep you down here, chained. But then you had to go and bite the little girl, Orville.”
Orville hissed again, unrepentant.
“Not cool, Orville.”