#fidgetstuff

Psst, gun anon (and whoever sent an ask to my Spider @under-the-stares), I promise I will get to replies soon, hopefully by this weekend health and time permitting!

// Sorry to have been a bit quiet this week! Tackling poor health and long working hours again but hopefully will start perking up tomorrow for a smol response or two!

"Not a pet cricket. I was... ehhh, kept in a case with several others like myself. I recall them disappearing one after another, then later learned it was because they were all fed to a frog. I was the last one left when... ehhh, the outside happened. Night turned to day, and was so briiiight..." It was hard trying to remember that far back before he'd changed, living in a small box before that fateful night when the Visitor arrived. Life was good now, full of many lovely things he could collect and stash away in his ever-growing hoard. The only thing he really missed was grass, the taste of which was now a vague memory of something he half-recalled, yet wasn't entirely sure if he'd ever ate it at all. He wanted grass cooked, something normal crickets didn't eat. Maybe it was just a fleeting memory of his past life, mixed up along with his body and everything else. All Morton knew was that if he tried it, tasted it, it would finally put all those confusing thoughts to rest.

"He was...ehhh! Not using it efficiently, and he had not used it for some time so I merely... ehhh, borrowed it. For my collection." it wasn't really stealing if it just happened to be... laying around, was it? If said co-worker had really treasured their stapler, they'd have taken better care of it like Morton had, who'd already had stashed it away with a number of other office-themed items.