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I named her Gizmo, like the gremlin

Not because of an aversion to water, or being fed after midnight

But because of her face

Her beady black eyes and scrunchy nose

She was the worst pet ever

I was the one who loathed the water, the crumbs floating like jetsam

The weird film at the bottom of her bowl, a ceramic cesspool that I had to scrub and scrub

My dishcloth coated

Whatever the hell was stuck to her bowl now stuck to my rag

I had to throw it out

Her shits were huge considering her stature, and they stunk

Like a manure pile set ablaze, and then dumped into the living room

By one of those tilting truck beds

Driven by a fuzzy faced maniac with opaque globes for eyes

I was embarrassed by the odour

Caresses were met with hisses, a stop drop and roll into an irate death ball

My pincushion fingers grew callouses, thick skin to protect me from the rage that touch provoked

But she would find ways

Feign innocent and docile until she sensed unarmored flesh

She literally stabbed me

Her wheel was caked in a kind of goo, an ectoplasm left over from some dark ritual

It squealed and moaned in the night, fearful of the strange entertainment it provided her

Hour upon hour

A plaything turned perverse and sinister

I couldn’t save it

She was long lived for her species, six years old when I found her

Laying in the sack bed that I had crafted with love, another deadpan irony

It’s crazy what we’ll tolerate

To feel like we're needed for twenty minutes a night

I kind of miss that.


Sebastian Seagull is a writer and musician based in the Edmonton, Alberta area. He is currently working on his first novel. His music is available at

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