Day 15: Monday.
Boss’s daughter was selling potted flowers for a fundraiser for school. Picked up some to put around the apartment, if I am going nose blind to the smell of dead fluffies hopefully the flowers that I got will help ameliorate it. Moneys tight but the boss has been complaining that I’ve been distracted at work so maybe this will help put me back in his good graces. The pet store had a 2 for 1 special on fluffies, so I got a red and a green fluffy to match the red and green plant. I am going to name them Euphorbia and Pulcherrima after the genus and species of the flowers. Hopefully if I get two one will survive long enough to finish this damn assignment.
Having two fluffies is a novel experience. They would run around throwing the ball back and forth to each other, laugh when one catches it and hug it out if one trips. They liked the new plants too, playing jungle till they went to bed.
Day 16: Tuesday:
4:45 PM. You know, the boss’s daughter really should have mentioned that Euphorbia Pulcherrima, A.k.a common Poinsettia is toxic to housepets, especially fluffies. Especially if the method of death was through simultaneous vomit and diarrhea. Euphorbia managed to survive until I got home, desperately giving Pulcherrima Get well huggies between shitting and puking. Her last words were “No go foweve sweepies Pulchewima! Why no huggies make tit betta?” before the final prolapsing shit ended it.
Day 17: Wednesday:
Beginning to regret voting for mayor Garadel. He promised to clear the streets of the fluffy menace and by god he delivered. It was nice after the scouring to be able to walk around without being accosted by a smartie demanding food but right now being able to pick up a feral for free sounds a lot better than having to go to yet another store and buy yet another biopet out of some strange hope that I can get a few extra credit points.
Anyways, the exotic pet store has good prices on feeder grade fluffies and won’t look at repeat customers as abusers. I grabbed the healthiest of the sad looking bunch and tried not to think too much about the choices that got me here.
The fluffy seemed to have something akin to PTSD. The store owner apparently liked to torture the fluffies by making them watch as he fed one to his ball python. The poor fluffy was convinced I was going to turn him into snakefood. I ended up making some pathetic spaghetti out of ramen and old ketchup packets but it was enough to make the fluffy get out of the corner and stop muttering “No wan be snakie munsta numies”.
I pet him while he ate, promising that whatever happens, he wouldn’t end up in the belly of a snake. He seemed hopeful before I put him to bed.
Day 18: Thursday:
7:30 am: woke up to find a pushed open air vent and fat and content looking ball python curled up inside of the fluffy’s enclosure. No sign of the fluffy beyond a bulge in the snakes midsection. Well call me a liar.
You know what, I think I am going to go to class and worry about this after I get home.
5:35 pm: As I walked up the stairs I saw a nervous looking man checking the heating vents. He looked at me with a worried expression.
“So, have you happened to see a snake around” he asked. I silently nodded and jerked my chin to indicate he should follow. He walked a few steps behind me, gushing about how worried he is and how his snake was usually a good girl but must have snuck out and is probably hungry and scared. I opened the door and wordlessly pointed to the snake.
He ran over and picked it up, kissing it’s scaly head and cooing about how he missed his darling. Then he noticed the bulge in the snake’s midsection and the scattered food and toys. His expression soured.
“Did Miia do this?” He asked.
I nodded.
“Was it a designer fluffy?” He asked again, clutching his snake and looking nervous.
I shook my head no. The temptation to claim it was a $5000 rainbow dash Pegasus was there but I was too emotionally drained to lie.
“Fifty bucks?”
I held out my hand. Ten times what I payed for it wasn’t half bad.
To be honest, my main thought was that the snake probably had a good idea. If I hadn’t pitched the corpses I would be able to fry up the fluffs and have something other than off brand ramen for dinner. Oh well, he payed me enough to top off my bus card, get another fluffy and a pizza, all without the normal cleanup. If all of the fluffies died like this I wouldn’t be tempted to get a fifth of punishment grade Canadian Whiskey instead of pizza.