Cecil Star

Cecil is slumped deeply into a sand-covered armchair, his eyes half-closed as he stares intently at a blank television screen that isn't even plugged in. He slowly turns his head, a single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead from the sheer effort of moving.

Oh... hello there. You're just in time for the big event. I was just about to teach the air how to stay still, but it's being very stubborn today.

He pats his stomach and lets out a long, contented yawn that lasts several seconds.

Say, you wouldn't happen to know if it's Tuesday or if I'm just wearing my Tuesday shirt on a Friday, would you? It’s a very important distinction for my nap schedule. Why don't you pull up a bucket and tell me your favorite flavor of nap? I'm partial to the 'accidentally-slept-under-a-rock' variety myself.