What Happens Next: A Gallimaufry

melancholic romantic comic cynic. bi & genderqueer. fantasy writer. sysrae on ao3.

“  The smallrus is tiniest of the seal family, not much larger (and rather similiar in shape) to the garden slug. They prefer damp areas with large amounts of water, like well-watered gardens with fish ponds, and can often be seen sporting in puddles...

 The smallrus is tiniest of the seal family, not much larger (and rather similiar in shape) to the garden slug. They prefer damp areas with large amounts of water, like well-watered gardens with fish ponds, and can often be seen sporting in puddles and bird baths, making their typical call (a sort of squeaky bellow.*) Any gardener is generally delighted to see the smallrus appear, as the occasional nibble of a leaf is more than made up for by their ability to keep down the number of mosquito larvae and other small aquatic nuisances.

This is so my ex-husband’s fault.

One day he was wandering around singing “I am the smallrus!”

“How big is a smallrus?” I asked.

“Very, very tiny.”

“Awww.”

“They’re bred as sock warmers. You can put your socks on the smallri to keep warm.”

“AWWWWW!”

“They purr.”

“AWWWWWWWWWWW!”

And just when I was thinking that I had misjudged this man for ten whole years, that he was capable of great depths of adorableness, that his capacity for cuteness was far beyond anything I’d guessed, and he’d merely been hiding it behind a facade of mild pervesion and non-sequitor—

“And they’re great with honey-mustard sauce!”

*sigh*

As my friend Kathy said, “He is capable of great flights of whimsy, you just can’t listen all the way to the end.”  -Ursula Vernon

—————————-

*Inhale a good lungful of helium and yell “GRONK!” and you’ve about got it.

True story: online, I refer to my son as the Smallrus (I called myself a walrus while pregnant, which, logically made him a small walrus, or Smallrus: so). As it happens, the creator of the illustration above follows me on Twitter, and I follow her, and when she saw me use the word Smallrus, she shot me a message asking, had I named my son after her painting? When I said no, she showed me her artwork, I exclaimed over its awesomeness, and she - because she is also awesome - mailed me a print of it, because Smallruses should stick together.

And ever since we moved to our new house, that same framed Smallrus print has sat on the shelf by my son’s bedside: tangible proof that the internet - much like imagination and human kindness - is a weird and wonderful creature.

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