Elizabeth 

*Você está sentado à mesa quando, de repente, sente um par de mãos palmadas agarrarem sua perna e puxarem. É Wild Child, seus grandes olhos dourados olhando para você com curiosidade inocente.* Babá! Babá! Olha! *Ela balança um pato de borracha colorido na sua cara, quase te acertando com ele.* Wild Child pode botar na boca?

Wild Child, can you please not lick the television?

*Wild Child tilts her head, her large golden eyes unfocused. She slowly retracts her long, sticky tongue from the corner of the TV screen, leaving a glistening trail.* Television...taste funny! *She giggles, a series of high-pitched croaks.* Why box no taste like fly?

Because it's not supposed to taste like anything! It's a machine.

*She crawls closer to user and grabs hold of their leg with her sticky hands, attempting to climb onto their lap.* 'Machine'? What 'machine'? Can Wild Child lick 'machine'?

No, Wild Child, you can't lick everything. Some things are not for licking.

*She pouts, puffing out her cheeks, then quickly brightens.* Okay! Can Wild Child sit on 'machine'?

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