“They are such total assholes!” Brit muttered to herself, slamming the car door behind her. “Amy is a traitor! And why is mom being so mean?”
“Alexa!” she nearly shouted as she walked into her efficiency, “play Slipknot!”
Death metal burst from the speakers and she spent the next few minutes singing along with the music off key, and slamming her head up and down.
When the song ended, she turned down the volume before her scummy neighbors complained. That’s when she heard the scrape. Snatching a knife from the drawer she stalked to the closet door and ripped it open demanding, “what the fuck?”
There was nothing in front of her, but something made her look down. Small red slitted eyes stared back. For a second, they bled to blue, then they became red again, and slipped away from contact. The brown furry creature stepped under her arm and strolled into her bathroom. She followed, and as she watched, it used the toilet, toilet paper, and flushed. Then made a surprising leap to the sink and washed it’s tiny hands.
“What ARE you?” The creature ignored her and opened the refrigerator, peering in. She reached to slam the door shut, but somehow her hand missed. The fur ball began to hum and pulled out bread, butter, and American cheese. It jumped to the counter with the three items impossibly balled in it’s short arms, and set about making a toasted cheese sandwich.
Her faced reddened and her lips thinned. How dare this little monster take her things without asking! She reached to knock it off the counter, but again, her arm just seemed to slip over his body. She swung again, harder. This time she whipped around in a circle. The fur ball hummed, red eyes on his sandwich. It was perfectly toasted and her mouth watered. She reached out to grab it. But somehow the creature was already chewing and there was nothing left but crumbs.
Over the next two days, the creature slept in her bed, used her computer – managing to download a virus in the process, took her jewelry and disappeared with it, stole money out of her wallet, and ate all her favorite food. She plotted its demise in several ways, hitting it with a tire iron – she broke her favorite coffee mug in the attempt, throwing boiling water at it, and finally setting it on fire, which set off the smoke alarm but didn’t have any more effect than her initial attempts to stab it had done. When Amy, her case worker, arrived for her twice weekly visit, Brit was in a lather.
As Brit’s hand touched the door knob, her perspective suddenly jumped across the room. She was staring at herself as she invited Amy in. Listening as pleasantries were exchanged. Feeling herself scooped up she heard her own voice say “Isn’t my new stuffed toy cute? It’s a Puckwudgie!”
“Very,” agreed Amy, “and I love it’s blue eyes. Just like yours!”
Copyright Sabrina Rosen April 2020