My Haunted Past

Once upon a time, a boy named Connor lived.

And when he was in third grade, a hamster lived with him.

Was this any normal hamster? No. Jason got the normal, brown, stereotypical hamster named "Buddy".

And me? I got the albino white, with fiendish red eyes one named "Daisy". But then my mom made me change it to "Snowball". The beginning of my therapy.

One day, Jason thought it would be a marvelous idea to leave the cage on a one foot stool in the middle of our room, and lock my dog Annie in the room.

Hours later, my third-grade self was contentedly finishing something terribly third-grade when I waltzed into the room to find the cage in pieces, Annie in an animalistic rage, and sawdust all over the floor.

"EEEEEEEEEEE" I shrieked.

I kicked Annie out of the room and began feverishly looking for hamsters. First, I found Jason's under a pile of socks in the closet. Safe as could be.

And then I saw Snowball.

He was in a lump on the ground. Annie had grabbed him with her mouth by his back legs and whipped him around until he flew off of his own legs. The red bloody stumps that were left were an eerie contrast to his white fur.

This is where I fly into a world-famous hysterical fit.

"JAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSOOOONNNN I WILL RIP THE LIFE OUT OF YOU! I WILL RUB TOOTHPASTE IN YOUR EYES! I WILL PUT JAM IN ALL YOUR UNDERWEAR! I WILL SING SONGS ABOUT YOUR PAST!  I WILL PUT DISEASE IN ALL YOUR FOOD! I WILL BLOG ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!"

I was uncontrollable and very violent. Finally, my mom talked me out of violent hate crimes and I had to go clean up the mess (Can you believe that? Now I have to clean up the murder site of my own pet. Ugh.)

I shoveled sawdust in an bawled my way through most of the cleaning. Then, through angsty tears, I made a discovery.

Two white legs.

I vowed to keep those legs forever. And it almost worked.

BRAINSCAR MOMENT: Then, I dropped my still breathing hamster in the trashcan outside, and I still remember his eyes staring at me as I closed the lid.

Months, and I mean months, possibly a year went by. One day, my mom was cleaning my room and she lifted up half an Easter egg lid and discovered two, tiny, shriveled, hamster legs. And she ate them. Jk.

Well kids, she threw them away. And I was sad.

{insert self-discovery and life-changing moral here}

Props to immunizations for keeping me safe from dead hamster disease.

Actually, to be honest. I'm not a packrat anymore. Yipee.