Biscuit

My brother bought a long-haired hamster a few years ago. He named it Biscuit. I thought I would enjoy Biscuit, but I was wrong. Biscuit was horrible.

She constantly gnawed on the bars of her enclosure. Constantly. And the sound was unbearable. She would drag food up her neon tube to her evil dome lair and horde it there. It was also where she pooped. So, occasionally, you'd hear a sound much like a short burst of rain that turned out to be Biscuit throwing her poop out of the dome and down the tube.

Furthermore, Biscuit was fluffy. Really fluffy. But she refused to be touched. If your finger got too close, it got bit. And those teeth were damn sharp since she'd been sharpening them on the bars all goddamn night long.

Occasionally she'd yawn. Most people might think this would be cute. But it's not. Hamsters are 90% mouth and that mouth is full of teeth. To this day, I'm convinced that Biscuit only yawned as a warning.

But the worst thing about Biscuit was her various escapes. Biscuit was always getting out of her enclosure. I don't know how she did it because we checked every possible entry. But once she was out, she wasn't going to come back of her own free will.

One night, Biscuit escaped while my brother was out with his friends. He'd asked me to go into his room and feed her but she was nowhere to be found. I searched everywhere. I called her name. I left out food. I set elaborate traps. Like, seriously, that Home Alone kid would've complimented my traps. But still, Biscuit was more elusive than a Tasmanian Tiger.

Ultimately, by making a shit ton of terrifying noise (this was around hour three of the hunt), I managed to lure her out into the open. I tried to grab her but the thing is, hamsters are 90% mouth... and 10% fluff. Getting a grip is hard. And Biscuit had Matrix moves. I swear to god, she back flipped out of my hands like 5 times in a row.

After a while, I'd become too furious to keep up my attempts to capture her. I'd been bested by a hamster named Biscuit. There would be no more happy days.

I put a towel under the door so she couldn't escape the room and murder me in my sleep while staring at me with her beady little horrible eyes, and I went back to my own room. One of the various traps I'd laid down (one of my earliest, most simple designs) was a pile of her bedding in the center of my brother's room. In the morning, when he returned home, he found Biscuit asleep in the bedding. He gently scooped her up and put her back in her dome. She awakened and yawned to show her dominance and commenced gnawing on the bars.

God I hated that fucking hamster. Months later, she got sick and died while living with my brother in Syracuse. I felt bad for him and I'd never wanted Biscuit to suffer. But I bet she's in hell right now, pissing off Satan.