when asked how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the owl replied, "three," whereas, if you had asked the lion, it would have said, "precisely one enormous lick." further, if you had asked the owl how many bites it takes to get to the center of a pained, lonely, sickening human being, it would have said, "i'm feeling a bit peckish right now, actually," whereas the lion would have said, "precisely one gigantic bite to get there; several more bites, however, to finish it off. and after you are finished, you are going to need some kaopectate, that's for god damn sure." finally, if you had asked the owl and the lion how many damaged friendships it takes to get to the heart of the matter, the owl would have told you, "depends entirely upon the number of ruined expectations you're using," whereas the lion would have said, "in my reign as king of the jungle, i have learned that there is only one kind of communication in this world which can always be understood, and that, my friend, is the roar. all other kinds fall by the wayside. subtlety does not last the test of time. you must roar and roar and roar again if you are to get your way. however," the lion would say with a sardonic grin, "should you ever yourself decide to chew your way to the center of a pained, lonely, sickening human being, you may find yourself surprised to find nothing but chocolate there, of a most tootsie variety. the roar of a tootsie pop solipsist is not much to listen to, that much i can assure you."