Come to the Detroit area and I will treat you to Chicken Chardonnay. You'll be back. pic.twitter.com/6DZUOu4kiD
— Tari (@uncommentari) March 29, 2014
He was glistening and green, hot orange underneath.
“Look at his stomach,” my daughter said from the curb, lifting the box to the car window. “Fire-bellied. Look.”
“Wow,” I said. “What a color for a belly. Very exciting.”
“You have to spray him with this water bottle and feed him crickets,” she explained, raising up the bottle and arranging herself and her new companion in the back seat. “Ten a week.”
“Ten, really,” I said, calculating the mileage to the pet store.
“Ten live ones. They don’t eat them if they’re dead.”