#behold! i present to ypu 3 flavors of stupid:

[pit-of-maggots]

young-botanical-genius:

"Agh! Woah, woah, woah, hey...!" Seymour gasped, immediately bending down and grabbing the creature before its sharp teeth could manage to gnaw too far into the fabric. He held it in much the same fashion as he had done earlier that day, keeping it at a safe distance from himself for fear of being used as its next chew toy.

"...H-haven't you had enough to eat today...?!" he asked, voice shrill with disbelief. This was bad. If this thing's appetite really was as boundless as it appeared to be, then how was he ever going to manage to keep its hunger at bay without the risk of even more property damage?

He frowned, pondering these puzzling circumstances. Surely, whoever had entrusted him with the care of this creature would've known what kind of behaviors it would display. If only there were some way to contact them; to ask them for the information on caring for the creature that they had failed to provide him within their mysterious business card.

...There was also always the option of trying to get rid of the thing. But the mere thought of killing it sent a strange chill up Seymour's spine that he wasn't yet prepared to try and fight against, and simply unleashing such a ravenous creature into the city unsupervised would no doubt lead to even worse problems...

"Oh, God..." he whispered, letting out a long sigh as he looked at the monster's face, searching for the answers he knew its infantile mind couldn't give him. "...What am I going to do with you?" If only he had a hint, a sign, something, anything to steer him down the right path!

Somewhere in South Italy, there was a worried fly dad that was reconsidering not going through with plan A of leaving a detailed 7 foot long list of instructions- all scrapped because of his companion's insistance on wanting to remain cryptic to avoid a lowly heretic from trying to dig too deep into things he shouldn't.

"Kid looks smart. Too smart. We can't risk getting too close. He'll figure it out on his own, I'm sure." Beata Maria would say, "he looks like he'd be capable of solving a calculus problem just like that." She'd emphasize with a snap of her fingers, "he'll see the faunette and know right away what to do. My judgement is clear, unclouded by mistakes."

Cut back to the present, the faunette in the young man's hands was just blankly staring at him as he spoke, individually blinking one eye after the other occasionally. Obviously it couldn't provide him with the answers he seeked, only that it was probably still hungry since it slowly became restless even in his grip; thankfully the paranoia of the monster's biological father had the better of him over his companion's... theory, that the schmuck she'd chosen for a caretaker would figure things out on his own- so, in a way, he chose to indirectly keep an eye on this whole operation.

From the dark window of the basement, cloaked figures spied on the poor, unfortunate botanist- one of them just quietly facepalming while the other was hurriedly scribbling something on a paper.

Said piece of paper would later get slipped underneath the backdoor of the basement, they were trying to be inconspicuous about their presence there to avoid giving the kid the impression they were watching, however, one couldn't be sure. They tried to be inconspicuous on the note too! Except it may have turned out to sound a bit... condescending, if you looked past all the bad grammar:

' Having WOO WORMY problems? Maybe you should pick up a BOOK about BUGS. What bug loves sugar, filth, trash, and lays eggs on rotting corpses, including humans? (Optional)

Needs foot food more than it needs oxaga oxixi ossi oxygen and sleep. If you don't keep it well fed, it will start seeing you as less of a friend and more of a full course meal. If you let it starve, wewee will (with all due respect) punch you in the face.

(Not allowed to directly speak to heretic penisantas peasants, sorry about the mysteri cards.)

P.S. Burn this card after reading or we'll be the ones getting face punched, grazie thank. '

STARTER FOR @young-botanical-genius 🌼🐛

It was the dead of night... two cloaked figures walked the streets of Skid Row until they reached the closed front entrance to the botanic shop they've been observing a while.

"I'm not positive I agree with using my children as guinea pigs, Beatrice." The High Priest hissed under his breath as the woman gently placed the basket, it's contents neatly hidden by the fluffy pink blanket inside it, in front of the door of the little shop.

The idea of one of his children potentially being killed, or worse, being poor looked after- infuriated the fly-man. And he wasn't fond of treating his spawns as if they were disposable objects.

"It is not a guinea pig, so you better watch your tongue before you question my actions, Concetto." The woman spat back with indignance in her voice, although it was quiet whispering- her words were still piercing. The man remained quiet, he and the woman had a staring contest for what felt like an eternity as if they were fighting eachother via who could give a more accusatory stare at the other.

Finally, Beata Maria spoke again: "I have kept my eye on the boy that... resides here. He will care for the youngin like he cares for the plants."

"And if he doesn't?"

With that insinuation that she was wrong, she remained silent, once again staring daggers at her co-leader. She inched close to the man until they were face to face, furiously staring at one another as they (quietly) fought verbally about who was righteous.

" Vedremo. ( ' We'll see. ' ) " She simply said, before one of her arms stretched out, adapting the form of a long, black tentacle and proceeding to... 'knock' on the door of the shop, calling it knocking was putting it lightly- the tentacle practically slammed against the door twice so hard it probably scared awake nearby homes, it was a miracle the door didn't break down. Concetto quickly went to hug the little basket, giving one last good bye, before he and his companion vanished into the shadows.