Morton

Morton was afraid. He knew that they were coming for him. Coming to take him away. He heard them at night sometimes, whispering to each other quietly. He'd pretend he couldn't hear them until they would chant his name in whispered unison.

"Morton, Morton, Morton." On and on in the night until he would scream out, "Just get on with it, I'm tired of waiting!"

Then they would be quiet. But he knew they were just drawing their plans to get him. His real friends would sometimes ask what he meant by "get him," or where "they would take him to."
He would yell at his friends for being so rude until he blacked out. But they were good friends. They would always put him to bed and fix him breakfast, or tell him when someone was lying to him. They were all so alike. Morton loved them, and they loved Morton.

That's why he was so angry when he found out that they were the ones plotting against him.

The End