...h out the fuzzy cement-like mixture.

You are starting to explain that, while you'd love to help him out, "wouldn't ya know it," tonight is your weekly court-appointed rage therapy session, when...

"GRRRRRRupt-Sploishhh-RAAAAAAAAA!!"

An unearthly sound erupts from the depths of your belly.  You are suddenly reminded by your severe hunger pangs that finding nourishment is still of the utmost importance.  However, sensing a moment of weakness and now apparently favouring Haiku, Chet begins his tactless entreaty,

"With no place to go

  Would it be such a bother?

  Let me stay at yours?"

You feel the Hanger rising - the perfect storm of hunger and anger manifested in low blood sugar-induced irritability.  It has reached a threshold level and the last thing you want is to listen to another "poetic" communiqué from this bozo.  Turning and running, you must find something to eat.  Fast.