Second Time's the Charm

Saturday, August 2, 2014

*I'm recovering from the One Direction concert last night…by working at a market/babysitting all day. So, I'm just posting what would be in a chapter in my book if I ever had one. Which I won't. Because I'm boring. Anyways, here's part of a chapter, if you will, about those two times that I had guinea pigs and hated almost every second of it. Enjoy! Will be back tomorrow with a recap of the concert!* 

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Unbeknownst to me, my mother used to make pacts with the mothers of my friends not to cave and get certain animals. When a child sees one of their friends with something, said child must have it too. I was no different than anybody else at the age of 10, constantly needing to keep up with the Kardashians---or was it the Joneses?

My best friend at the time, Nina, had called me on Christmas morning, as usual, to tell me what she had gotten from Santa. I answered the phone, murmured “ahuh, ahuh” after each item, then promptly hung up. As soon as the landline was on the hook, I burst into tears.

“Mom. Nina. Got. Guinea. Pigs. From. Santa,” I cried to my mother, who was cursing Nina’s mother for breaking the pact. “But-but. You. Said. Santa. Doesn’t. Bring. Live. Chattel!” I screamed through my sobs. I didn’t know what chattel was, but apparently it is a legal term that I picked up on from my mother.

Needless to say, I got my first (that’s right, first) guinea pig the next day. He was a short-haired guinea pig, named Yumi because I was going through my anime phase at the time. I don’t like to talk about it, ever. I was obsessed with Yumi for the short time that he was alive. Turns out, he was a sick guinea pig from the start and had an upper-respiratory infection when we bought him. After dropping $50 on his prescription and feeding him yogurt through an eye drop for five days (this is all according to my mom because come on, I was 10. I couldn’t take care of myself let alone a f**king guinea pig), the poor little guy kicked the chair.

Based on past experiences with guinea pigs, I assumed their life-span was only a month. Score! I got something cute to brag about for a while and then they would die just four short weeks later! It seemed perfect in my 10 year-old (and, apparently, super twisted) mind. My mom felt bad about my gimpy guinea pig, so she let me pick out two new ones after Yumi died.


And I’ll be damned, those two f**kers lived for six damn years. I had to wake up to them chirping at 6 in the morning for SIX YEARS. My pillows spent more time being chucked at their cage than under my head. They were irritating little pests, but all of my friends fawned over them. I would also like to point out that one was named Isabella, pre-Twilight era, but that didn't stop everybody from asking if that's who she was named after. NO. I would rather gauge my eyes out with a Harry Styles doll than name something that I loved for .2 seconds after a character from the Twilight series.

I hate guinea pigs to this day. But I'd still never eat them (I'm looking at you, Peru). 

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