Straight No Chaser

Zoology

my roommate, the bear, was drunk off her ass when i came in last night. jumping on the bed, clapping her hands, giant breasts bouncing up and down like someone was juggling giant flesh foxtails in front of her. she was hungry, noisy and aggressive in an amazingly ursine way; i almost told her to get the hell out of my face and go steal a pickanick basket, rather than asking me, every five seconds, whether i felt like driving her to walmart for some honey roasted peanut butter. fucking bear.

chris, the snake, is swiftly moving in on my best gal pal with no-legged grace and a flashing forked tongue. it's reverse snake-charming: he woos her away from the group with colors and music--want to go to the high [museum of art]? we can listen to the roots in the car--and she goes, happy to be whisked away as such, perfectly willing to ignore all the ways in which he resembles the ex she can't stand now. he slithers past all her hard-won defenses. as snakes will do.

marcha, the terrier, is blithely horny and happy-go-lucky as always. i love terriers.

od, the hermit crab, emerges from his shell only in two-hour intervals, and only when it's time to roll and squirrel away the next blunt. his room has become a permanent hotbox, overwhelming and uninviting, which is exactly the way he wants it, and when anyone comes in, he snaps and pinches unapologetically till they leave. his usual eclectic joviality is on hiatus, right now, thanks mainly to the whole krystle and chris thing, which i guess would be enough to send any dignified male into self-imposed hermit-crabesque isolation.

krystle, the parrot, is colorful and chattish as always, but moodier lately than before, and prone to peck. she won't tell people things, anymore, just repeats their questions with this broad evasive smile, and giggles. "krystle, how are things going between you and chris?" "me and chris? tee hee," et cetera. in true parrot fashion.

sean, the panther, glides dangerously and prettily in circles around it all, in this perpetual state of moving in for the kill, but never quite doing it. his wasn't difficult at all. he's always been a panther.

marcus and i are turtledoves. obviously.