Ok.
I really don’t know how to begin this.
Because it is truly… Just…
Traumatic.
So I’m just going to tell you.
Rupert, the tiny Muntjak deer we told you about yesterday…
Has died.
(90 minute pause of silence.)
Sara Schaefer and I are sitting at our desks with anime tears welling up to the lids, only, they’re the real kind, made of saltwater, spilling unto our cheeks.
“What are the odds?!” I just screamed from my suddenly freezing cubicle.
“Actually,” Sara replied, “pretty good.”
This is a black day.
WHAT HAPPENED OVER AT TIGGYWINKLES?!? IS THERE NO GOD????
I’m seriously debating taking up smoking again. I wasn’t built to deal with things like this.
UPDATE: Do not feel pressured to e-mail this to your Mom… Best she not even know about the tragedies of the wild.
