This kid bought me in a pet shop. A stinking pet shop, ever see one that didn’t stink? Probably not. Go out to the pond they pulled me out of, does it stink? No. Nature does not smell up the joint, unless creepy humans in thereto mess it up. Anyways little kid presses his wet face up against the glass and says, “I want that one, he looks like Muggy.” Who is Muggy? That is the last turtle they had. Did it grow up the be a big old turtle and was let go? Think again. Think sick, then d-e-a-d.
He takes me to the basement. Sunlight? Oh, who needed that? Not like the lighting upstairs would have been sunlight either, but at least I could see something. They put me in this round plastic dish thing. High plastic walls, fogged by a thousand scratches of Muggy number one. So, so, so depressing. The plastic home has a spiral ramp. I go up (where else to go?) What is on top? A plastic palm tree. Like I grew up in Jamaica and now I feel at home? Here comes the “food.” Sprinkle, sprinkle. Some kind of cereal crud, full of synthetic stuff, like the food people eat. Oh, the water, chlorinated. That is just perfect for me. You know how all of us turtles need chlorine.
How does this work? A pet? I sit here and eventually die, not enough exercise. Oh God here comes that kid. Where is he heading? No. Please don’t turn on the TV. He did! He comes over to me. He says, “For company Muggy.” Now he is going back upstairs. What is on? He has it on the nature channel. I just peed on myself. I didn’t ask for retirement.