Try typing on one of these things with no thumbs. Go ahead, I dare you! You'd probably get something like “&^$F:IUGgdfiajkavba fha89qwewr98yjlg a9wthgo.” That's what I got the first few times. Practice makes perfect after all and look at me now! I'm not giving away my secret though, and that's really how all this happened. Lucky for you it did, 'cause now you get me!
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wyatt, and I live here. Yeah, yeah, you know those other guys... 'them' as we of the plush variety refer to them. Chris and Dave. Not bad humans for the most part. They have their issues. People do. I've been with them a long time now, a lot longer than some of the other bags-o-fluff around here. They found us (me and my pal Paxton) in a place called Provincetown... probably about 1,000 years ago. I don't get this time thing, so you're probably thinking “he's wrong” Well, you are right, I don't know. What I do know is we were BOTH here before just about everyone else, AND those two nasty, fanged beasts that hung around for all that time. Thank god THEY are gone. The dark one was fucking INSANE and the light one was a self-centered BE-otch. Luckily they were more interested in torturing each other than bothering with us. Good riddance!
That's me in the picture. It took me a while to figure out how to use that phone-thing. Luckily the big guy came along when he did, I'd dropped it off the table into that other thing they put their dirties in. No dirties today. Well, not in the basket. The process is usually: 1.) dirties everywhere 2.) Chris mumbles in a bad mood 3.) dirties in basket. Then I'm not sure what happens but they come back and dump the dirties out, fold them and they disappear. Unless Dave brings the dirties...then they stay on the big bed for a long time. This also makes Chris mumble, but he does that...a LOT. Oh well, like I said, they both have their issues.
Anyway, I was talking about the picture. Try stealing a phone that someone has on them all day! It's even harder than typing with no thumbs! Usually I wait for one of them to go into the steamy little room with the big white wine glass. They stay in there for a bit so that's when I move – unless I'm all the way downstairs in the dark place. Paxton and I have been down there for a while now. I'm not sure if we're being punished or what, but we've had to share the big purple couch with a lot of strangers lately. I think this one guy was allergic to us, 'cause he turned redder and redder every day he was here. Then he was gone. Maybe he died. I don't know. I thought we were hypo-allergenic. Our tags say we are.
This place is supposedly called Bearicks Street. Some number or something. I can't count to 11, so I don't know. But I think it's fitting they named it after us. I think we're pretty important, so why not?
Uh oh, the big guy is coming back upstairs. I guess he's done talking to the plants outside. He does that every day. I want to tell him they won't talk back, but I think I'll just let HIM figure that one out on his own. Dumb plants. Dumb needy things. WE don't need watering every day. My coat does get dusty though. That's ok. WE last a lot longer after all. Sometimes that's good, but others, well... there was all that time I spent in the box that summer. That wasn't fun. When I woke up we were at Bearicks Place though, so maybe it was good? At least now I can look out the window and see cars - unless I'm down in the dark room - that just sucks. Whoops, I've been caught. Maybe I'll hgnbbbbu]
