Magic Mischief Makers

*warning of sucidal ideation content and reference to a suicide.

      My town is so small that strangers stick out like an albino alligator in a congregation of the regular dark olive colored ones. Some people find this cozy, some find it suffocating. To me living in this town feels like when someone accidentally walks in on you in the shower. All the time. This town makes it so hard to breathe, I wish I had some kind of fancy, magic inhaler. Luckily, I won’t be here much longer.   

Anyway, nothing changes here, so when something does its breaking tabloid news all day. Any small thing makes the headlines. I know. I’ve been those headlines one too many times lately, and surely will be again soon. So, of course, when this newcomer comes waltzing in, we all have eyes on him. That man in his long green bomber jacket and black leather cowboy hat. Who does he think he is stopping here? For starters, who wouldn’t have eyes on someone dressed so strangely? Also, wearing a black cowboy hat is like announcing yourself as an evil villain. I bet he’s up to no good, but I kind of like guys who are up to no good. They’re good at causing intense feelings of one kind or another, which is always welcome in my otherwise numb, void of a life.

           I watch him wander up the street pushing a shopping cart. A black blanket covers the top of the cart, but it’s about an inch short of covering the whole cart. In that little inch, I can see what looks like little paws scampering around on top of a tray. Maybe there’s an animal crate, but what kind of animal? It’s several furry, long bodied four-legged animals by the looks of it. Or a long, fuzzy, alien centipede type thing.

           Time and time again people tell my that line about how curiosity killed the cat, but what can I say? I’m one curious little cat and death doesn't scare me. So, I wander on over to that man. It should be said that he has the nicest pair of sneakers I’ve ever seen. Like pick a lane with this ensemble man. If fashion is an expression of self, then he is telling the world that he’s a hodge-podge of personalities. I guess that’s pretty cool, actually. I can relate. Why pick only one, anyway?  

           I’m not sure what to say exactly, and as my brain scans through possible polite introductory phrases, a little cluster of words just spews through my lips on their own accord. “Hey, what’s in that cart?”

           The man grins a crooked, sly little grin. Seeing the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, I realize he’s a bit older than I thought from the distance.

           “They’re mystical, magical cat-snakes.”

           “What now?”

           “Sneaky, tricky, little bandits.”

           “Huh?”

           “Playful noodle bears. Carpet sharks. Makers of mischief. Furry little thieves.” He pulls the blanket back like a magician’s reveal. Inside a crate I see five weasel-like creatures. One is black as night with little white paws and a white spot around the nose. One has a brown eye mask, white face, and tan body. One is pure white. The other two have what looks like cinnamon colored bodies painted dark at the tips of each strand. “They’re ferrets.”

           “Ferrets? I’ve never heard of one.”

           All of them were jumping up and tumbling over each other trying to sniff me.

           “Want to hold one?”

           I nod and point to the dark one with the white paws who is standing back from the rest. A little outcast like me. The man lifts the furry little guy and places him in my waiting hands. The fur is softer than I expected. A little oily and slick in fact, but silky. I smile at this sweet little one and move my hand to pet him. He bites down on my fingers, but it doesn’t hurt.

           The man looks at me with that smug car dealer look and I’m waiting for him to hold out his hand and charge me some ridiculous sum. Where's the scam? He says, “they’re magical.”

           “Magical, how?”

           “They bring never ending joy. It’s impossible to look at one and keep a frown on your face.”

           I look down at the one in my arms and a smile creeps across my face. I try to force it back, but it only gets larger. “What’s his name?”

           “He’s waiting for one.”

           “What’re you doing with them?”

           “Finding them the right homes.”

           “How do you know what the right homes are?”

           “I just know when someone could really use their magic.”

           I nod and start to put him back, but my arms won’t move. I don’t want to let go. I snuggle him to my face. “He looks like a Loki to me. You did say mischief and tricky and sneaky after all.”

           “That’s right I did. I think he likes it too.”

           “Loki,” I whisper as he wiggles in my arms.

           “Your parents around?” He asks.

           I shake my head. In a way, my parents were never around. When my dad died of an overdose two years back, and my mom killed herself a few months back, they more officially ceased to be around.

           “You live with anyone?”

           “Why you ask?” I may be young, but I know better than to answer too many questions from a stranger.

           The man puts his hands out in a calm-down gesture. “Just thought you might need to ask permission.”

           “Permission for what?”

           “You want to keep him?”

           My eyes burn. I do. I really do. I have no one at this point, and maybe this man is right. I can’t stop smiling with this little one in my arms. I know this man must be tricking me. Everyone does. They probably cost a fortune. “I don’t have the money.”

           “None needed.”

           “What’s the catch?”

           “Well, they’re not an easy pet. Can you feed him, clean after him, and give him enough attention?”

           To be honest, I had my doubts I’d even make it through this day, and now I’m here considering taking responsibility for another life? I have a job that pays well enough. I inherited a house, though it’s haunted by memory ghosts. I could do technically do this. I had all the time in the world to give outside work. Not like I had friends or hobbies to tie up my time. I had the means to take care of him. All I needed was the will to stick around and not follow in my mom’s footsteps.

           I look into those glossy black eyes. His body moves like he doesn’t have any bones. He puts his arms back and slides like an otter up my jacket sleeve. There’s this feeling inside me that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before. This little ball of warmth radiating inside and soothing my veins, muscles, and organs. I chuckle to myself as I think, you could call it love at first bite. Yeah, yeah. Cheesy I know. There is a magic to it all though.

           “I can do all that.” This man doesn’t know me enough to know, but my word is good. Loki will be the most loved of all living things. He’ll be protected, kept safe, cuddled every day, and well fed. We’ll have the best life. Tears blur my vision as I realize that for once I genuinely believe that.