With tears in his eyes, he presses the pillow down.
“I’m sorry, I used to love having you around, you helped me so much.” He applies more pressure to stifle the muffled squeals and struggling.
“But you’ve gotten so loud and you roam around like you own the place. It’s not working out.”
He feels the hot air as it radiates through the pillow. The movements slow then stop. He relaxes and releases his hold.
“Goodbye, Roomba McIntire.”