OUTFIT THAT BELONGS TO MY LITTLE WEIRDO!Lunch was easily Angel's favorite class. Low maintenance, food, maybe a smoke if she had to mind to. In her bag, Angel's three latest pets sat n their containers. Because, honestly, Frank books all over the place.
Pulling out one of the containers, she looked inside, seeing Gregor. Gregor was a cockroach, with a light brown shell. About an inch and a half inches in length, and beautiful, long, antennae. He was an American roach, strong. As they exchanged gazes, a soft hissing noise admitted from the container, causing a lilted little smile to come from Angel. Cockroaches were amazing things. They could live in just about any environment, between the sixteen species.
"Hey there, Handsome Gregor." She spoke softly, hearing a gentle chirp from him.
From the front pouch of her bag, she grabbed a little bottle and dropper. Inside the bottle was Gregor's lunch, a special puree that Angel made for him: banana peels, vanilla, peppermint, various decomposing fruit, and decaying wood. Opening his box, she took him gently in her hand, feeling his mandibles pinch her gently. Not to bite her, but to make sure she knew she had him.
"Handsome boy, you ready for lunch?" She cooed gently, kissing his shell lightly. Some might find it gross, how she treated her buggies like they were puppies. But, quite frankly, she did not care. Setting him back inside his little travel habitat, she dropped his food, watching him instantly draw to it instantly, and resealed it carefully.
Next was Banana George's turn. He was a Banana Slug (big shocker), and was a slimy yellow thing. Pure yellow, in fact, save the ripened yellow brown bottom and head. Banana George was rescued, over the summer by Angel, when she was in California, by a raccoon. While she usually would have let nature take it's course, and let the raccoon feast on his find, Banana George had been far too beautiful to allow to die. So, she fed and maintained the slug while he healed from his little bite wounds on his back.
'Banana George!" Angel spoke softly. Anyone who saw her with her vermin would be able to tell how much she loved them.
He was only six inches, at the moment, but was still young, and would continue to grow. Soon, she'd have to get a bigger container. Opening his box, she petted his gooey skin with her index finger, the teal paint on her nail contrasting on his yellow flesh.
"Sing with me now. 'I looked up, saw a cloud, floating by, without a sound. Banana slugs, do their yin yang thing, a hermaphroditic, little fling.'" She sang gently, one of her favorite tunes, as she plopped his rotting food into his container.
Resealing Banana George, and setting him aside, she grabbed a box of crickets, and her oldest pet Charlotte's case. Beautiful Charlotte, who was a common brown tarantula. The reaction to her was always a strong, dramatic, reaction to Charlotte. As if she was poisonous. Honestly, ignorant people. But, as she looked inside Charlotte's case, she found it... minus a Charlotte.
Oh, bugger.
It was a short bit of worry, that Angel felt, as the tell tale screech that was associated with Charlotte rang through the courtyard. Looking over, Angel watched her precious baby fly briefly through the air, before falling on the grass, and scurrying off to a shaded area under a tree. Angel was already halfway there, other babies back in the bag and strapped to her back, when the little blond demanded Charlotte's death.
Bugger again.
"Are you alright?!" Angel cried out, falling to her knees to locate her beauty. There she was, clicking nervously.
"Oh, Charlotte, you naughty girl... what are you doing out of your box? You know you don't get to roam until we get home." She scolded, sounding like an indulgent mother. Coaxing her slightly larger than palm sized friend into her hand, Angel felt the little hooks of her spindly legs touch her skin.
Picking up the spider, she scowled deeply at the screechy blond.
"Oh, zippy the lippy, Blondy. She's as poisonous as a bumble bee." She inspected the arachnid closely, checking for injury.
"Aren't you, Little Lottie. You're just as poisonous as a bee. Yes, yes, yes." Gentle as always with her buggies, she put Charlotte back in her case, dumping a dozen or so live crickets in with her.
"She was just hungry, see? She needed to hunt." Holding up the plastic case, Angel revealed to her, as Charlotte caught one of the little Jiminies, and proceeded to devour its insides.
It must have been... interesting(?), this five foot two inched, bra-less, short skirt and long shirted, mixed girl, who watched with interested in the munching tendencies of the spider, and was encrusted n bohemian jewelry. But, alas, Angel had never claimed to be normal. While some might find this gross, Angel found it fascinating, and made no effort to hide this from her face as she watched it happen.
