Professional Squeaky Toy
Being owned by an eight year old isn’t easy, I won’t lie. Once, I was a powerful eldritch being, torturing the poor, rotten souls trapped in purgatory. In one of my many past lives, however, I must have pissed off the wrong elder god. Ah, yes, I remember now, even through the haze of this new form. It was for stuffing my face with their personal food stash. The tasty morsels were just sitting there and I couldn’t help myself. Sadly, in the elder god’s infernal rage, I was cursed to live a thousand lifetimes as a hamster, which didn’t sound that bad since I thought hamsters lived super short lives. The issue is, I’m stuck with this kid, Charlie — that bastard — for all 1000 of ’em.
I awoke in the cold metal confines of my cage, forgotten in the corner of this grubby kid’s room. The first week of my brand new life with him wasn’t so bad…until I learned Charlie forgets to feed me most days. I’ve taken to gnawing on the water feeder in desperate attempts for nourishment. Starvation took my first life. My favorite pastimes during my second life devolved to include kicking my shredded bedding onto the pristine carpet — much to the dismay of Charlie’s parents — and sprinting at 1000 miles per hour on my creaky hamster wheel at exactly 2:57 every morning. It was the only activity I was capable of in that cage. Charlie got so pissed off that, one night, his sticky fingers grabbed me from my cage and hurled me across the room. I felt the wind whip through my fur for a singular, magical moment…up until I smacked into the wall. Two lives down!
I was hoping I could traumatize the child a bit, maybe induce some character growth, but my form simply rebuilt itself, and I woke up the next morning right back in my piss-soaked hell.
I came to accept this was my fate. Sometimes, if Charlie is feeling gracious and deigns to play with me, I get to run free in the living room, at the cost of being at the mercy of his massive dogs. I lost one of my lives falling victim to the fate of becoming a squeaky toy. Don’t even get me started on the time Charlie thought I looked cold and put me in the microwave to warm me up. Life #62 flew by as I ventured to terrorize Charlie once again on my wheel, but underestimated my speed capabilities and just kept going faster and faster until…you get the gist. I sorta feel bad for the family goldfish though. It keeps going belly up in its bowl and Charlie’s parents just keep quietly replacing it like the sick fucks they are; I think we are on Bubbles #16 at this point.
I will survive this gauntlet of eternal punishment or my name isn’t Okthaazhul the Ravenous…oh, what’s that? A piece of plastic I’m not supposed to eat? Mwahahaha, COUNT ME IN.
When not deep in editing, Jenna often finds herself practicing laughs in the mirror or querying the universe on ways to be funnier.
