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Description
If they were called the Eight Gourmet Laws, they were lying through their teeth: there were definitely more than eight, and Terry had apparently broken one of the more obscure ones. It wasn't his fault, not when Zebra was a walking disaster, but off he'd gone to Honey Prison, which was one of those places people made movies about breaking into or out of. With Warden Love there with her strange pheromones, leaving the dangerous wolf docile and compliant, there really wasn't any need for a conventional punishment. Rules were rules, though, and the immobile Terry, given no more room to move or grow in his cell, was constantly taunted by the mouth-watering visage of his favorite dish, a cob of Blue Blood Corn ... surely there had to be some rationale for respite.

Description
If they were called the Eight Gourmet Laws, they were lying through their teeth: there were definitely more than eight, and Terry had apparently broken one of the more obscure ones. It wasn't his fault, not when Zebra was a walking disaster, but off he'd gone to Honey Prison, which was one of those places people made movies about breaking into or out of. With Warden Love there with her strange pheromones, leaving the dangerous wolf docile and compliant, there really wasn't any need for a conventional punishment. Rules were rules, though, and the immobile Terry, given no more room to move or grow in his cell, was constantly taunted by the mouth-watering visage of his favorite dish, a cob of Blue Blood Corn ... surely there had to be some rationale for respite.