Sigyn, do you know what the human female is keeping in room 302? No? Neither do I. It’s uncharted territory. Like most unexplored places, it can be very difficult to get to. Mostly because I magicked the card reader on the door and it almost never works. The human female doesn’t even try anymore. She just punches in the code —which I have managed to suss out.
So now, while the humans are sleeping off their enormous turkey dinners, we can explore!
Aha! This is where the human female and her staffers keep the living organisms. I guess this is where all the beasties obtained from the Purveyor of Squiggly Things reside.
Let us greet the denizens in order of legginess. First up, with eight apiece, are the tarantulas. They all have names. This one is called Rose. No need to be frightened, Sigyn. She can’t get out.
Actually, if we are going by order of legginess, by all rights we should start with the crickets, which are the tarantula equivalent of Chex Mix. Crickets have six legs, but they’re boring and smelly, so that’s why I skipped them.
Next would be the centipedes, but they’re fast and bitey, and intent on escaping, so they get to go to Centipede Valhalla soon after the students look at them. There aren’t any live ones this late in the semester.
So that brings us to millipedes, which have more legs than I can be bothered to count. They don’t do much, just crawl around slowly and occasionally munch on some potato slices.
They like to nap curled up like little watch mainsprings. You know, if watch mainsprings had legs and antennae and were detritus feeders…
Then there are the hermit crabs. I’m not sure how many leggies they have, because they seldom venture out of their borrowed shells long enough for anyone to get a good count.
Just to make the human female’s life a little more surreal, I think I’ll leave this Broken Equipment Report Form in the crab enclosure.
Start the clock—let’s see how long it takes for anyone to notice.