I'm lonely. And in the most crowded realm of the afterlife, that is quite a trick. Every night after I drive home and walk up the five flights of stairs to my apartment, I dread opening the door. The room with it's single bed and one bathroom seems deathly cold and empty to me. So I've decided to get a pet. After long hours searching the internet I think I've finally settled on a likely candidate...the Mongolian Death Worm (see here).
I mean first off what a splendidly imposing name, Mongolian Death Worm. I could put a sign on my door reading "Beware! Premises are guarded by a Mongolian Death Worm". That would keep the solicitors out (of course they're down here, where did you think they come from?). Apparently the only color they come in is red and they somewhat resemble a five foot length of cow intestine. Awwwww. I can just picture him flopping and wriggling across the floor to meet me as I come home.
Another wonderful thing about my new roommate is he spits a corrosive yellow fluid that can dissolve metal. That will save me money, because I won't have to buy acid for my coffee anymore. He can generate electricity, giving me a way to keep my air conditioning bills down as well. You won't believe how much power it takes just to get my apartment down to a comfortable 115 degrees.
I have been considering his welfare. I want to be a good parent, so I will have to buy him a sand box. He can burrow and sleep in his very own little patch of the Gobi Desert. You might ask if I'm afraid of having such a fearsome creature around? Well, not really. Being an immortal spirit there's not much he can do to me, and since I do live where the "worm does not die" I figure it's a win-win situation. This weekend I'm heading to the Gobi Desert. I can't wait to bring home a pet to enliven my dreary environs.
I think I'll call him Toby.
Brackish
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2 comments:
My favorite pet's name was Toby. No, he wasn't a mongolian death worm, rather a loose-jointed schnauzer. The runt of the liter, he used to lick between toes. And not just the toes of my family members. Any exposed toes. The sensation of his hot and jagged little tongue darting 'tween your digits was pretty disgusting. And that's not even considering where that dirty little dog tongue had been.
Correction: runt of the litter I should have said. The runt of the liter is a half-pint I think.
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