The Green Room
Hamster Hell
by R.Lett
With terror and dread, I stare at the phone. Sweat gathers between my shoulder blades, and rivers down my back. I imagine my six year old daughter. Playing happily at her mother’s. Doing an "art attack" or playing on the computer. She’s happy.
Of all the jobs that being a father entails, this is the worst. I first time I did it she was six months old, and time to be inoculated. The government nurse insisted. So, as her mother stayed weeping in the car, I carried my perfect, beautiful child into the clinic. Her soother is getting a good work out, and she makes happy sounds nestled in the crook of my arm.
In the room, I hold her facing me when Nurse Ratchett pulls out a needle the size of her leg and plunges it into my baby girl’s thigh. Breanna’s eyes said, "What the…?" The she paused. And then she screamed. And screamed. And screamed. At me. The betrayer. The Judas goat. The dad…Six years later… and it’s that time again. How did I get here this time? Passion. A frog named "Passion". That’s how.
Breanna wants a kitten. But there’s no pets allowed in our West End apartment. One day we went into the pet store down the street. "Dad, I want a pet! How about a fish?" What harm could there be in a fish? So I buy her a Siamese fighting fish – a beautiful cheap, low maintenance fish. Sits in the bowl, swims around, and attacks his own reflection. Good Fish. Bree names it Simon. Coming from the puddles of Vietnam, Simon could survive anything.
With Simon flourishing under our care, daddy and Bree make the pet store a regular stop. On one visit we find STRIPEY The ROCK - a Chubby Frog also from South East Asia, who lives in the mud, only surfacing to eat the live crickets we buy him, happy in the home we made for him in an empty aquarium.
The problem is, being the non-custodial parent, or father, Bree only sees her pets, twice a week. I live with them all the time. One night, Simon up and died. Swam up into the Barbie boot and I found him the next morning. Looked like suicide to me. They aren’t generally happy fish, the fighting fish - very aggressive. I’m sure Simon had some issues. All we really knew is that Simon was in a lot of pain, and he’s free now. I threw him in the freezer until Bree could see him. We buried him at the beach.
On our weekly visit to the pet store for crickets (17cents each) we see a Fire Belly Toad. She’s a lot smaller than Stripey, but way more active. Bree asks what fire in the belly means? I say "Fire in the belly are feelings, passion." "Ooh, lets call her "Passion."
The problem with Passion is she has very toxic skin. Stripey, an extreme predator, would eventually eat Passion, then die from the poison. So Passion couldn’t live with Stripey. "Why can’t we all just get along." We did have the dried up fish bowl… So we put Passion in Simon’s old home. Passion’s a jumpy thing, but the curvature of the bowl prevents her from escaping. But Passion is not happy in the fish bowl. You can tell. It’s just not enough for her.
I run into Shadow, a street guy I bought a VCR from, awhile back. The VCR didn’t work. When I threw it out I put a scratch on it to make sure I didn’t buy it again. This morning, Shadow’s got a shopping cart, and in it is a glass hamster cage. Wheel, wood chips, water bottle, the works. I need to make a better home for Passion. Shadow wants to unload all of it. I’m interested in the glass case, but I don’t let on. "How much for the cage?" as I pull out the change from my coffee. I show him $2.44 cents. He says "Close enough" and throws in a kid’s kite to boot.
Passion's pursuit of freedom is unending. Before I could turn the hamster cage into Passion’s new home, she got away. The search proved fruitless. At the pet store they told us that she would hide in a secluded dark spot and die in a few hours of dehydration. We preferred to think she got out the door, onto the elevator and out to freedom. Last we heard Passion was living in Stanley Park, writing poetry and complaining about well, everything.
Cricket shopping one day, Breanna reminds me that we have a hamster cage, and "That’s a hamster!" $6.99 – Food – five bucks for a bushel… what the hell. We bring "Amy the Hamster" home. The hamster is good. All the equipment is perfect, and Bree and I are happy hamster parents.
Last Saturday, Bree was playing with Amy. She gasped and said, "Dad, I think…" I recognized that tone. "Don’t tell me." "I think Amy had some babies." Sure enough, Amy’s got two squirming hairless, pink blobs of hamsters. They sold me a pregnant hamster! There’s already one single parent family living here, dammit. We head to the pet store to get information on raising stupid hamsters. "Thanks for selling me a hamster from the other side of the tracks." "They’ll be fine, the mother will take care of everything. Just feed her and Amy’ll do everything. When they’re grown you can bring the back".
The twins are boys and so are christened Jack and Jackson. We celebrate the the twin’s birthday with ice cream and sing "Happy Birthday Jack and Jackson. Happy birthday to you…"
Over the next few days, Breanna left messages, "Hi, I’m just phoning to see how the hamster babies are doing". Cute. Amy was curled up in her nest, so I didn’t bother her. Yesterday, I got another message from Bree. So I checked under Amy. Picked her up. No babies. What? Where would they… I kept looking, and then I found it.
I’m fingers walked through the gate into Hamster Hell. There it was, a tiny pink torso of a decapitated baby hamster. No head. Ahahah!. I couldn’t tell if it was Jack or Jackson, what with no head, but I was pretty sure whoever it was, his brother had fallen to a similar fate, AMY ATE THEM! Ahahaahahahhhhhh. Their own mother!! God in heaven, what could possibly be the reason for that? I thought hamsters were vegetarians! Seeds and pellets and… Oh God, what am I going to tell Bree!
I stare at the phone. I had to face it. The sooner, the better. This all started with Passion, you know that! Now I’m about to break a little girl’s heart. Michelle answers. "Did you find those black runners?" "What? "Those black runners! I know you said they might be at Billy’s and they went away for six weeks, but maybe you should add it to the check at the end of the month. Along with 40 bucks for that pink sweater you lost."
"Michelle… I don’t wanna talk about this. The twins are dead."
"What – oh no, what happened?"
"Amy ate them."
"Why?"
"I don’t know Michelle, why do Mothers eat there young?
"Are you gonna tell her?
"That’s why I’m calling - oh controlling one."
"Don’t tell her she ate them - just say they died."
"Thanks for your help Michelle. You just wait in the car."
"What?"
"Put Bree on…"
"Hi Daddy".
"Hi Bree, I’ve got some really bad news. The twins are dead".
"Jack and Jackson?"
"I’m really sorry."
She pauses. Please don’t scream at me.
"Amy ate them. They were too weak or something"
"But why did they come out if they’re weren’t meant to?"
"I don’t know. Maybe so we could name them and sing them happy birthday."
"Ya. They’re Jack and Jackson. They got to be loved."
"So you’re not mad at me?"
"No, I’m mad at Amy."
"Me too."
"Dad?"
"Ya."
"Now can we get a kitten?"
Contact The Green Room at 5a7@avivalasvegas.com. Make sure to put The Green Room in the subject
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