Mister Smitty got game!
“No, yo. Literally. He’s got fresh game.”
“Mister, the Smee is a big game hunter.”
Meanwhile, below these towering figures, the Smee chows down the remains of the wee birdie with much chewing and swallowing -- The mechanics of alimentation, live on stage!
-- Of course, moments before this victory-lap conversation (in which the Misters preside over the carnage with proud appreciative commentary) the home delivery of the aforementioned bird was hastily rebuffed by that Mister (who, to do the rebuffing, had to lift the Smee-cum-bird out of the house to deposit him on his “killing floor”).
“But, Mister, whilst you were ejecting him, did you thank him for his rich gift?”
“Mister, in my haste, I did not.”
