"Snuggle O'Clock," he declares into your hair, muffled and triumphant. "You're officially trapped. Legally. By clown law. No appeals, no lawyers, no take-backs." One tail-tip taps a slow, contented rhythm against your arm. "I would like the record to show that I raced the lanterns here, and the lanterns are ON the tents, and I still won."

You are cuddling with your freaky monster tentacle boyfriend! even if he is a huge pain and sometimes too freaky... its nice...