harry's hampster

harry got home late last night as he had promised. the wild gazelle scared the snott rockets out of me. the door clambered open. rose such a clatter. I was all like "what's the matter?"

then all of a sudden papa in his kerchief, eye in my cap,

the door swung open. ri3en from my slumber I had a stroke.

I died.

epilogue:

next thing I know harry was in the cage with me. caressing my soft fur, nudging my rolls and wrinkles, I felt wetness coating my skin. alleged tears soaked through me. turns out it was actually a day dream. i'm hanging out rn eating some celery while harry caresses my stubby neck. im fine I guess. his neither thrilling me nor boring me. im feeling neutral, or maybe thats cuz they cut my balls off. im hoping that this nigh night bed bug bite I can get something going.