Seperis (seperis) wrote,

mammalian panic

Are we allowed to have a day where we can do nothing but lay in bed and sulk with our mock-mocha and houseshoes? Cause I am totally in that place. I have these sixteen year old girl not invited to the party feelings, I feel neglected and tragic and unwanted, and I keep catching myself writing in rhyme about my transcendental pain. This can only end in too much eyeliner and a dip into blank verse, and no one wants that.

Houseshoes. God, I have fallen. They are pink.

My weekend trauma seemed destined not to occur until I was dragged to the Herpeteon of Maximum Stress to get--surprise!--more crickets to pour down the gullet of the Freaking Bearded Lizard, who is showing signs of really, really liking me way too much. And yes, the entire desensitization thing is working in a big way, as now I no longer have a blood pressure spike walking in, but save it until I see the giant ball pythons, the strange yellowish thing wrapped around a branch, the three (three! THREE!) cornsnakes, the yellow rat snake, the Christ I am going to pass out baby boa constrictor and oh my God in heaven is this happening to me the fucking Anaconda.


Overheard was a nice couple talking to one of the people working there about their problems feedign their snake. In which a large guinea pig every twenty days wasnt' enough adn they might have to upgrade to rabbits, and oh, hi, this is me, *twitching* six feet away.

Seriously. Twitching.

Oh my God there was an Anaconda in that store. In a little snake tub! AN ANACONDA THAT I SAW ON TV KILLS YOU SO VERY FAST IS SITTING RIGHT THERE LIKE A NORMAL ANIMAL! Also, tiny turtles that you cna't buy unless it's for educational or government study and what is up with that?


Due to failing blood pressure (and a very real possibility of me just breaking down right there and crying hysterically for my mommy to come and get me), I began to walk over to look at the rats--apparently the things that one feeds (oh my God a *guinea pig a month*?) snakes and soothe myself in mammalian happiness, when half-way across, my mother glued herself to my side, grabbed my elbow, jerked my head around and made me stare very very hard at all the pretty furry mammals.

Me: ...Mom?
Mom: Just--look! Rats!

(Mom? Hates rats. A lot.)

Me: Uhh--
Mom: Hamsters! *manhandles me toward the cages* Aren't they nice? Look! A hedgehog! I like hedgehogs!

(Mom does not like hedgehogs. I doubt before this second, she knew they existed.)

Me: .....

So I was suspicious.

When we were halfway to the Ferrets of Maxium Mammalian Zen and the Guinea Pigs of Inner Tranquility, and I looked back, the aisle I had been standing inches from was filled with people, and as I was collecting my two dollars of medium size crickets and watching in mute horror as a large ball python uncoiled itself to try and climb out to kill me (so not kidding), Mom explained that a few inches from my elbow, the little group in the aisle had had an actual snake out and were passing it around and she thought it would probably look bad if I screamed and died right there on the spot. It would please Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit too much. Also, my life insurance just isn't all that great. now I own two zebra finches.

Well, Mom does. I kind of--*waves hand*--forced her to pick two, got their supplies, said, hey, present for you! And left filled with bird zen.

...okay, the pattern here seems to be, I will buy warm blooded animals when reptiles scare me. Herpeteon has a Flemish Giant, a rabbit that looks like a tragic love affair between a hyena and a slowly dying, radiation mutated koala bear (seriously here, this is the ugliest furry animal I have ever seen) and I have a horrible, horrible feeling that when they add another ball python or something I'm going to walk out clutching it and promising it love and let it, too, eat my hair and fake love for yogurt covered tropical fruit snacks.

This, my friends, is a clear case of mammalian panic. Kind of like heterosexual panic, except it's sadder and involves credit card maxing.

I am going to go steal my sister's forgotten box of Valentine chocolate and wallow. If you want me, I will be over there, listening to Alanis Morissette.

So--is fandom still adverse to songfic? I could totally write John to this. are all right now emailing anyone you think has my phone number to call and stage an intervention, aren't you?
Tags: jenn's life, pets
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