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The hamster I gave the security guard downstairs ran away two weeks ago. The guard tells me they wrapped raffia string around the cage but the little girl bit straight through it while they weren't looking. I told him we usually used wire, and I think I told him that when he first got the hamster too. I don't know if the hamster is dead, or hurt. The guard tells me they looked everywhere, even the drains. I hope the hamster is alright, I really do. Hamsters are great survivors, but they can't survive being stuck in a drain somewhere, or a bad corner. I'm seeing it soaked and hungry beneath the lid of a toilet floor's drainage as we speak. It frightens me.

I want to beat the person who left that hamster in the basement with a crowbar dead. There are no defective hamsters, no defective non-humans. Nature claims what it cannot sustain. The same cannot be said for humankind, not even the ones seeming whole. I sat with some of them at a table tonight, and they talked about circles I couldn't fathom, the ones with fast cars and designer clothes and spoiled, spoiled creatures. I am a spoilt creature too, but I have never understood these yuppies at all. The food was terrible, Planet Hollywood was too much plastic and too much noise. I couldn't get away fast enough.

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