#MWBB Week 47 : I’m Not From Here

The door opened, revealing Mary, stomping her feet on the porch, trying to dislodge the snow packed into the nooks and crannies of the soles of her boots. “Oh, frack!” I thought. “You watch. She’ll keep the damn boots on, and walk all the way to the kitchen.

Yep. She did. Tracking snow, and whatever else clung to the bottom of her boots clean through the house. If I could speak, I’d have screamed insults at her. “Bitch! Do you know how cold that shit is? That’s right! Let me absorb all the guck on your boots. Had a bad day? Make sure the carpet knows!”

Homeowners. Geeze. If only they knew what lives in their carpet.

Like Buffy’s fleas. Dang dog. She comes in from the back yard, hauling in another load of them little beasties, sits down in the middle of the family room floor, and scratches. Then, rolls around, on me, ‘cause I’m able to scratch her whole dang back at one time.

God, but I miss the days back home. When I was all rolled, wrapped in plastic. And clean. Oh, to be clean again!

Wait! Wait! Little Debbie’s coming downstairs to watch TV with Mary! Aww. Little Debbie’s so cute. The way she sits right down on me, where Buffy just drug her ass, leaving God knows what, ‘cause it itched. Hey, kid! You do know the dog just wiped her butt there, don’t you?

And the cat, oh God, the cat. Mary, you can call Stanley Steemer all you want. They ain’t ever gonna get all the cat litter out of the carpet in the hall. And your priceless living room? The one you never let anyone into, except for Christmas Dinner? That’s the room Princess always pees in when you do something that pisses her off. That corner, between the china cabinet, and the wall.

Lord. You do not wanna smell that corner. And you sure as hell don’t wanna know what’s growing in that.

Gods, but I miss the days I was on that roll in the warehouse. That’s where I’m from, you know. That roll in the warehouse. I’m not from here. I just live here. Wondering how humans stay alive with all the stuff they fill me with.

I still have a stain that’ll never come out, from when Little Debbie lost her cookies one night, and I inherited them. Mary thinks she got it all cleaned up. Ha! They ever pull me up, and put some poor sap of a new guy down here, and they’ll learn! Gods, will they ever learn! They’re gonna be like, “Ewww! What the fuck is that?”

I really love how Mary lets Princess have her hair balls. Then waits a few hours for them to dry up before she cleans them up. Yeah. Smart idea that. Let me soak up all that liquid. That came from kitty’s tummy. With all that acid, and bacteria. Make sure you let that stuff soak into me really well, so you don’t have to get your fingers in it. Oh, yeah. Then let’s let Little Debbie sit down where Princess made her deposit.

Humans. Geeze. It’s amazing they’re still alive.

Damn fleas. If I had hands, I could at least scratch myself where it itches.

God, I miss the days back home, in the warehouse, sealed in plastic.

561 Words

This is my entry for week 47 of Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other stories in the challenge.


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