"Imagine," says the voice, "that you were underneath a blanket. It's a little small, so your feet poke out from underneath it, and your arms come out from either side."
"Okay," says the human, dangling upside down, suspended by a group of tentacles. "I got it."
"Right," says the voice, which comes from everywhere and nowhere. "Now consider a cat. The cat thinks you're kind of like a cat, but you're so big, he has some problems understanding that all of your body is really you."
"Yes. Now listen. Especially under the blanket, the cat doesn't really know where your body begins and ends. He sees your feet, and decides to attack them. He's only play-fighting, but his claws are real sharp, so it hurts. What would you do?"
"Well," says the human, gently spinning in the tentacle's grasp, "I'd try to tuck my feet under the blanket."
"Ah, but then it's even worse," claims the voice, triumphantly, "because now your cat sees Blanket Monsters and attacks them twice as hard."
"So you have to grab the cat."
"It's either that or burrito her," says the voice, squeezing the human in the grip of its tentacles. "And since in this metaphor the blanket represents the fabric of reality as you know it, I don't think you'd find it very pleasant."
"Fair enough," says the human, blood beginning to pool in her head. "Can you please put me down, now? I promise I won't attack you again."
"That's what the cat says every time, too, and yet..."
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dailybridgerton
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