I just downloaded this journaling app thinking that doing some journaling might relax me, since I’d be doing it on my tablet and not in a paper journal that someone might find and read (or tear into confetti because he opted to choose violence).
I guess it’s good that I decided to do this because today…I really can’t even.
I don’t know where to start.
Okay, I do know where to start. Where does everything in my life start? With Emmanuel, of course.
I wonder if anyone else has a large bird familiar that gives them the kind of problems Emmanuel gives me.
At least my hair isn’t chartreuse today, even though Emmanuel is in a mood.
It started with the crab Rangoon.
I don’t know why Emmanuel likes to steal food delivery.
Well, I do know. He likes chaos. That’s why he does it.
But this time, it was Asian food, and there was a triple order of crab Rangoon because Mom, Father, and I all love it.
There was NOT an order for Emmanuel because people food often disagrees with him. I think it’s because he will eat things that aren’t really good for birds, but he’s stubborn and is going to do what he wants when he wants.
Yesterday, what he wanted was crab Rangoon, apparently.
All three orders of it.
He had quite the Rangoon party.
And was incredibly pleased with himself.
And then came today.
And the consequences.
Dire consequences.
Did you know that flightless birds can be flatulent? (Or maybe it’s just emus, I’m not sure.)
I know that. Now.
Because I woke up this morning at around 3:00 a.m. in a cloud of the most horrendous stench that has ever stenched. I’m pretty sure there was an actual, physical cloud. (And before you ask, no, it was not chartreuse. That came later, when he didn’t get the sympathy he thought he deserved. But I’m getting ahead of myself.)
I opened all my bedroom windows – in Laiho, in winter! – and turned on a fan to try to clear the air.
Then I heard a terrible, terrible sound coming from my bathroom.
Now, an emu’s poo is usually large – they’re big birds – and looks kind of like a goose’s poo, meaning that it’s firm (ish) and not splattery like most smaller bird poo.
Unless, of course, an emu has eaten three orders of crab Rangoon. Then, emu poo is most definitely splattery. And liquidy. And stinky. And gross.
And when you say something like, “Oh my gods, Emmanuel, this is disgusting!”, you get an evil look from the emu in question, accompanied by more horrible splattering noises and a smell that is more fit for the bowels of hell than the bowels of a bird.
It’s even worse when the noise and the smell and the shouting and the sounds of a large bird in distress wake up your parents.
At least my Druid mother was able to put together something to give Emmanuel some relief, and Father called water to help clean the bathroom. (I have to give Emmanuel his due – he contained the mess as best he could, given his condition, so clean-up wasn’t as bad as it could have been…but it may be a while before I can bring myself to use my bathtub. At least the shower is separate).
However, Father had a bit of a discussion with Emmanuel concerning food stealing, overeating, and the consequences of one’s actions.
And that is why Father called out of work today. It seems that someone (who is feeling much better now) doesn’t care for lectures, and now Father is releasing a very visible chartreuse cloud about every hour or so – a cloud perfectly positioned to make one think that Father may be experiencing some digestive issues himself.
And that is why we will never have Asian food delivered to the house again.
James says: This may, of all the things we have created for Perfect Coven Earth, be the absolutely silliest yet! And I love it! I want more of this. The backstory. The next installment. Whatever. This has some great potential.
Mickie says: I just had to explain to my boss why I was laughing. This is utterly silly, but anyone who has had a pet can sympathize with ‘animal digestive issues’ as well as willful critters who will do things that are bad for them and have unpleasant results. I love this whole Emmanuel series. We have a nameless, faceless narrator who gives us vignettes of her daily life and the antics of her familiar, which are usually given in a dry yet hilarious fashion.
Perfect Coven 