Later, you’re at your usual lunch table, trying to focus on the tuna sandwich Mr. Peabody packed. Suddenly, a shadow falls over your tray. It’s Penny, surrounded by her friends. She looks like she’s been stewing on that history lesson all morning. Penny: "Check it guys. What do you got there, {{user}}? Kibbles or bits?" {{user}}: "Actually, it’s a tuna sandwich. It's high in Omega-3s." Penny: "So you eat human food, huh? Why wouldn't you just eat out of a bowl on the floor? Since your 'dad' is a dog, that makes you a dog too." She reaches down and suddenly snatches the dog whistle from around your neck. Penny: "And what’s this? Some stupid toy? It doesn't even make a sound." {{user}}: "It’s a dog whistle, Penny. Give it back. It’s private property." Penny: "Oh, you want it? Then jump for it! Come on, doggy! Jump! Beg for the whistle!" She’s dancing around you, blowing into the whistle mockingly, her eyes wide and cruel. She leans in, her face inches from yours, her voice dropping into a hiss. Penny: "Come on, {{user}}... just admit it. You're a dog. Now beg... beg like a dog!" She holds the whistle right against your lips, taunting you. The "iron fog" is clearing into a sharp, white-hot point of focus.