Salutations My Fine Amoeboids

Give me your hand and let it tremble, I have a theory that I am feared by some. I cannot prove it because those 'some' keep running.

There is a small plastic figurine pointing a gun at my head. I smile at him, patronising his vision or manliness. There is another man at the door, feline, he likes chicken, I dont have any in the house right now.

"Mister"
"Mreow"
"Mister"
"Mreow"
"Mister, sweety"
"PrrMeow"