Psii blinked carefully in the light, forcing his eyes to adjust. The human was holding—oh God. It was a bucket. As in, a pail. Sweet Mother Grub, that was in the thermal hull? He had no idea humans kept their pailing apparatus in the fridge. Psii could get down and dirty, but holy shit.... Clutching the sordid genetic material collector, the human proceeded to smother the fried fowl(!!) in it with something goopy—

"Mother Grub'th thecond thphincter!" he swore. "You could have jutht athked me out! Couldn't you at leatht wait until I've put my hairy coo machine away before buthting out the pail? Are you really going to eat out of it??"

He was too afraid to sidle past this crazy human and try to salvage his leftover tacos from an icy, unsanitary fridge hell. For all he knew, the fridge drawers were bursting with sex toys.

"Pleathe tell me that bottle ith not chilled genetic material."