I’m watching a documentary about rats and this guy is like “they say there’s a rat for every single person in New York City” and I know he’s talking about like population numbers but it kind of sounds like he’s trying to tell everyone in New York that they have an individually assigned rodent friend and I think that’s beautiful.
The next big thing in fandom: Rat Soulmates
Well I’m here, when do I get to meet my Buddy Rat?
As I approached the near-empty parking lot that practically hung out over the Hudson, I took my 78th look at the pamphlet that had arrived on my doorstep yesterday: my 16th birthday. The pamphlet said,
Congratulations on the 16th anniversary of your birth. Please report to: Rodent Assignment Terminus #1 13th Avenue Manhattan, NY
Honest to God, I had no idea there even was a 13th Avenue on Manhattan but here I was. After about two minutes of look around, I spotted the ramshackle little kiosk in the corner of the floating block of asphalt and pavement. It was surrounded by mini traffic cones forming an impromptu runway that led right to the small window carved in the side of the slanted hut. I knocked on the window sill and waited.
The tiny window slid open and the wizened face of an old lady appeared. By my rough estimate, she was approximately 170 years old. “Name?” She croaked, taking a drag off her cigarette with shriveled lips.
“Uh… Addison. Addison Sharpe.” I held up the pamphlet with my eyebrows up, letting her know I also did not know why I was here.
The window slammed shut and I heard the bustle and groaning of the old lady getting up out of her seat.
To my surprise, she appeared outside the kiosk with a metal wire hanger-looking device with a hook hammered into the end. She shuffled three feet to a tiny, manhole cover and slipped the hook through one of its holes. I rushed forward to offer to do it myself but to my utter shock, she lifted the manhole up and to the side with no more effort than it took her to slam the small window of her kiosk. She removed her cigarette with one hand and cupped her mouth with the other. “Addison Sharpe!”
A low, unholy sound emerged from the depths of the hole in the ground. It sounded like 8 million chairs squeaking across a poorly-waxed floor. It sounded like 32 million claws clicking and clacking their way across a cement car port. It sounded like the asthmatic breathing of a mass of nightmares. It got closer… and closer to the top of the hole.
A single rat, about the size of a small chiuahua, emerged from the hole.
“Look, he got dressed up for you,” the old lady wheezed affectionately, and casually moved the manhole cover back into place.
The rat in question appeared to have a pink bow on his head, stuck there with what I can only assume (and hope) was gum. He regarded me, whiskers twitching, beady eyes staring.
“I like your bow,” I offered.
The rat hobbled towards me, latching onto my pant leg with sharp little claws and climbing until he reached my hoodie pocket, where he settled with a decisive sigh.
I turned to thank the old lady, but she slammed the door of the kiosk in my face.
This is the most magical thing that’s ever happened in response to dumb shit I said on tumblr. I love you. And I like the bow, too.
inktober day18: a litter of mimics born in the local high-class jewelry shop. that’s what they get for letting the neighbor’s curio cabinet sniff around their guard display case.
gonna post the last few inktobers i did. i might finish the nine i have left but ehhhhhhhhhh.
my rooster doesn’t crow when the sun rises, he crows when he hears humans wake up, like you can literally just roll over in bed and he’s like “hoLY SHIT THAT’S A PEOPLE THE HUMAN ISAWAKE AHHH AHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
the same rooster – god guys he’s socute – he always lets hens eat treats first and won’t have any treats until they’ve had as much as they want, unless it’s a blueberry. shit, blueberries are like serious fucking business for Pharaoh. he’s a gentleman until the damn blueberries come out and then he don’t play no fuckin games
in case you were wondering this is him
It’s been almost a year since I made this post so I guess I should update you guys on Pharaoh!
He’s still a sweetie but with more attitude and will fuck up your shit if he’s grumpy or if you’re wearing shoes with shoelaces. He doesn’t like that. He watches Netflix with me a lot and cries anytime theres explosions or gunshots in a show. He has so many chicken lady friends who he adores and he has fathered 4 chicks. I tried to train him to walk on a leash but he protested by laying down and refusing to move, so we gave that up after a while. He likes to guard me from cars and squirrels, and even plastic bags (which are his worst fear)
Mario’s personality profile from the 1993 Nintendo Character Manual.
The description of his child-like curiosity and his immediate acceptance of anything weird are the first time I really thought of mario having that distinct a personality and it is adorable
I’m screaming??? So my cat knows I get upset when he steps on my paintings (not yelling or anything I think he just sees me spend hours trying to cover up what his paws do) in my “studio” which is a crammed small storage closet with painting all over the floor drying , so like I’m in there rn and I saw him try to get to point A to point b but it was impossible for him to jump over so like he realized the matte parts were dry and like he was stepping on the corners of the painting and every step he’d look at his paw to see if he fucked up and honestly it was the most thoughtful thing ever I don’t ever wanna hear anyone ever say that cats don’t care
This Is a Backup Blog 