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Citrus

"One-Hundred Twenty Days, Pt. XI"

The lid had snapped open. I couldn't believe it. It was actually open.

 

I debated with myself. Surely it wasn't nice of me to actually run away from my nice aide who'd actually taken me with her on her luxury-trip.

 

Then again, she did stuff me in this itty-bitty cage and put me in her suitcase. No problem, I'm gone.

 

That'll teach her not to expect me to travel less than business-class on our next vacation.

 

I scurried to the door, waiting and poised on the wall for the next person to open it. The damned motion sensors weren't being tripped -- I think someone should sue the resort on the basis that they're prejudiced against small beings. And then I can have lots and lots of latinum and buy luxury jumbo crickets and better substrate for my palace than the potting soil the green one uses.

 

I pounced upon the next person who entered, a rotund female who was toting a cart full of towels and bottles of foul-smelling chemical-water. I have no idea why she screamed -- I didn't mess up her frizzy hair or anything when I landed on her head. Then I bounded off down the hallway.

 

I scurried down the bannister of the staircase to the more crowded areas, where surely someone would see me and admire me because beautiful creatures are made to be admired and I'm sure people here would appreciate me more than my green aide who stuffed me in a little plastic thing. So I posed on the little tarantula-sized pedestal at the end of the bannister, a few menacing legs in the air for photo opportunities, and waited.

 

It didn't cross my mind until later that maybe I should have been charging for photos. I didn't see anyone take any, but that doesn't mean that no one did.

 

Then, a most horrid sound. A yellow-haired female dropped a tray of food and started screeching in a most unflattering manner. I think she was trying to serenade me, but she really needs some voice lessons if she wants to attract the attentions of Citrus the Great in such a manner.

 

Meanwhile I looked at the tray now on the floor. There were no crickets or beetles on it. For shame.

 

Then I looked around the main floor, hopping off my pedestal, and headed on my way. Life was perfect.

 

---

 

"There she is!"

 

The green one's voice is indistinguishable. Maybe I'm just used to listening for it -- greenie does bring my crickets after all. I started to run.

 

NO!

 

The damned green one could pounce like a cat sometimes. And -- the box! Again! She brought the box back out! The teeny little box I had to ride in for four days!

 

One of these days, I'm going to bite her.

 

But I'm nervous what she'll taste like. Green is a warning color, after all.

 

Like orange.

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