It’s 5 o clock PM on a Friday summer afternoon, and I just got done with my freelance work for the night. Time to kick back, relax, smoke some weed, drink some beer, watch a few movies and enjoy my weekend off. But first, it’s time to feed Moxi.
I ring the dinner bell at the bathroom and the monitor lizard’s feet come patting along my carpet. She follows the daily routine of running into the bathroom and hopping in the bathtub (since her meals can get messy) eagerly awaiting her favorite supper of live rats. I pull the pet box out of the closet and open it to find…
…oh damn. The last three rats are dead.
Fuck me. Monitor lizard’s will only eat live prey, to feel a sense of satisfaction out of catching their own food. Prey that is dead or appears dead will often be ignored unless the lizard is desperate. Looks like I’ll have to run to the pet shop to pick up more.
“Sorry, Moxi, you’ll have to have a late dinner tonight.”
The pet store was closing at 6. Good thing I didn’t come an hour later. I ask the pet store shopkeeper for feeder rats.
“Sorry, sir, we don’t get our next shipment until tomorrow. But we’ve got plenty of fluffy ponies we need to get rid of. Poor-temperament foals, bad colors, strays, unwanted pregnancies. I hear some people are even eating them now. Anyway, a few foals would be a perfect meal for a monitor lizard.”
I fucking hate those annoying shitting things, but if that’s all they have, they’re about the same size as rats anyway, and Moxi won’t care the difference. I picked up 9, so she’ll have something to eat both tonight and tomorrow until I can get my hands on some rats.
The entire car ride home they just kept babbling in that annoying over-the-top cutesy talk, farting and squealing like pigs.
“Neu daddeh wuv fwuffy?” “Whai mummuh sai babbeh is ugwe cowow daddeh?” “Fwuffy make poopies!” “Gib kibbwe dummeh hooman!” “Wan miwkies!” “Wuv huggies fwiend!”
I wanted to shake their container until they shut the fuck up, but I couldn’t risk killing them, fluffies are notorious fragile, especially at their age.
When I got home and took the container in while ignoring their whining about “bad upsies” I walked from the garage into the main hall. Moxi greeted me with her forked tongue sticking out over and over again. I lead her to the bathroom.
While she sit impatiently in the tub, I opened the pet store box and the fluffies started cooing, happily greeting their “new daddy.” One even made “happy poopies” when he got excited seeing the lights. I picked him first. He seemed like the most innocent. Most nieve. It would be entertaining to see how he reacts to a vicious predator.
“Gif miwkies daddeh! Am onwe widdwe babbeh! Happi peepees!” A stream of piss narrowly missed my face. I dropped him in the tub with a squeak. Moxi sniffed him out.
“Squeek! Babbeh nu wike scawy munstah daddeh, pwease make it gu way?” Moxi pounced. She caught him in her razor sharp teeth and thrashed him around until blood splattered on the walls. She threw him into the wall and he flopped on the ground like a ragdoll with his intestines hanging out.
“Pw-pweese sabe babbeh daddeh, nu wan be nu-nu-uch-” Moxi picks him up in her jaws and swollows him whole.
I reach my hand into the box to ponder my next target. Suddenly a little grey one jumps up and bites my fingers. They’re not even capable of penetrating skin, but it startled me nonetheless. He puffs out his cheeks and pisses on the ground in an attempt at intimidating me.
“Dummeh hooman nu take smawty’s neu hewd! Gif nummies an get wid of dummeh munstah nao ow smawty gif sowwy poopies!”
He’s next. I pick him up and squeeze him until his ribs crack and shit spews out of his asshole.
“Nu, owwie huggies, tu tite! Pweese nu huwties daddeh!”
Into the tub he goes. Moxi latches onto his back leg and genitals in one bite.
“NU! WEGGIE HUWTIE! SPECIAW PWACE HUWTIE!”
He flies into the wall. His leg and special place don’t go with him.
“MENIE MUNSTAH MENIE MUNSTAH TAKE BABBEH’S SPECIAW WUMPS AN WEGGIE! PWEASE STAHP SCAWY MUNSTAH! SABE BABBEH DADDEH!”
He waddles as fast he can with his three legs to the other side of the tub leaving a wet bloodstain along the way and starts desperately trying to climb the slippery wall to no avail. Moxi grabs the squeaking foal by the head and slams him into the ground a few times before he disappears down her gullet.
Her last fluffy will be the little pink filly cowering in fear in the corner. She pisses and shits the second I pick her up.
“Pwease daddeh, fwuffy wiw gif yu wats of huggies and wuv! Pwease no make fwuffy as scawy munstah nummies!”
“Hey Moxi, wanna do your trick?”
Moxi stands up on her hind legs and opens her mouth.
“DADDEH PWEASE!”
I toss the wailing foal in the lizard’s waiting maw. All 4 of her legs are hanging out the sides of her mouth until she chomps down and they all pop off and hit the tub floor at once. After Moxi swallowed her whole, I briefly heard her say “huhu no wide dawkies” as she went down her throat, then squealed as she hit her powerful corrosive stomach acid before falling silent.
That’s enough fluffies for today, Moxi, I’ll feed you the rest tomorrow. They cry and protest the “scawy dawkie woom” as I stuff them back in the closet in the bathroom I usually store my lizard’s food. I clean the tub and give her a quick bath before sending her off to her safe room to play with her toys or take a nap.
Now that that’s finally over, I think I’ll go to the theater to watch the late night showing of John Wick 4 and see if my girlfriend wants to go too. Could really use some popcorn right about now.