“Kira,” I heard Martha’s voice near the house.

She hasn't even reached the porch yet, but she's already calling. Here is the sloth!

“I’m coming, my friend,” I answered in a disgusting high voice, laughing at certain people from our community.

She crept up to the front door and flung it open. But she couldn't even try. Martha stood near the steps and smiled.

“Hi, girlfriend,” she smiled defiantly and curtsied.

Once upon a time, Martha was bothered by our ridicule, she had more of this emotional substance in her head that always gets in the way of good jokes. I'm definitely a bad influence on her.

Satisfied, she went...