Taken last night by the camera I set up for just such an occasion. Look at his beady little eye, reader. My guinea pig is planning something. But what? He claims to have been plucking my eyebrows but my eyebrows do not look any different. And not because he is a 'subtle and talented beautician' like he claims. My eyebrows do not look any different because they have not been plucked since last I plucked them. Which I'm not complaining about, because it's not like I want my guinea pig to sneak out of his cage late at night and be all pluckety-pluck-pluck and whatnot. It's not like I want that. It'd just be nice if he cared enough to do it on his own bat, instead of not doing it and doing something far far worse instead and pretending like he was doing philanthropic eyebrow topiary like a hero. I asked him if he had given me hormones (he has been pretty vocal about wishing I was hairier. Another reason the eyebrow thing is suspect), but he said he hadn't. He wouldn't lie about a thing like that, would he? I mean, that would make him pretty much a monster. And not the small lion of a monster that he wishes he were, but the sort of Monster that handsome behavioural analyst Derek Morgan often tracks down in episodes of Criminal Minds. William wishes he were important enough to be tracked down by handsome behavioural analyst Derek Morgan. But he isn't. He is just a stupid guinea pig who is not as clever as he thinks he is.
When I showed him the photograph, he was all "that is an invasion of privacy". I pointed out that I am perfectly entitled to invade my own privacy by filming myself sleeping, if I so choose. "Like in Paranormal Activity" he exclaimed, his little face brightening. William loves Paranormal Activity. The first one, not the sequel. He always hopes that the presence in the house is some sort of enormous guinea pig and *SPOILER ALERT* is always a little bit sad when it turns out that it isn't. "Talented Filmaker Oren Peli made the right call there" he says " Maybe it wasn't the call that I would have made but, yeah, he probably definitely made the right call. But still..." After he says "But still..." William usually trails off into the distance for a couple of minutes. Sometimes his eyes mist over. And I know he is thinking of giant invisible guinea pig demons and all the damage they could do to a moderately sized house in suburban San Diego. He still hasn't answered my question though. But as I look at his little, furry face I realise the answer has been here in my heart all along. "Were you pretending to be an invisible Guinea Pig Demon, William?" I ask "whispering demonish things into my ears and so on and so forth?". He nods shamefacedly. He can't even look at me. Nor can he promise not to do it again. Especially now that he knows there is a camera, just like in the movie. Next time he is going to sit on my tummy though. Because it looks really, really warm.