Well, at least we know the snake’s still around. Good thing it cleaned up after the hamsters. If only it’d clean up the mess they left all over the damn plane.

Now, I wasn’t there ‘cause I’m smart enough to stay out of this fucking mess as much as possible.

I can count though. They got him one hamster. One. And Yuffie claimed it was male. I’m pretty sure she’s not that naïve considering the shorts she’s wearing.

Now, I ain’t a friggin' biologist or nothing, but someone explain to me how one male hamster, in a week turns the floor of my ship into a moving shag carpet with a nasty attitude.

Vincent didn’t really help things by firing at them. They’re either bullet proof, or they just fill in the holes he makes with more of the little bastards.

Well, once the snake stopped shedding, it solved most of the problem.

Most. I’m still stuck with these morons.

Well, I found out why the lights stopped working somewhere in the damn infestation of hamsters. Apparently if something feels tingly under a wire, they thins keep chewing on it. Great, they’re just like Cloud.

I told those people I ain’t no fucking maid. If they complain about me chucking dead hamsters that smell and are turning green out the window, they can clean up.

After that someone got the bright idea of the next pet. Good thing it didn’t work.

Someone goes ‘Look a neat bird and I don’t want anyone to know I exist until it’s all over.

The idea didn’t sink in when they realized the birds were vultures, hoping to clean up the mess of dead hamsters I’d tossed to them.

Only when the morons noticed the vultures soon began circling Vincent, did they get the picture that is wasn’t such a good idea.

Then it was back to fuzzy ugly things.

Gerbils.

I don’t think gerbils are good for this guys’ health, and that’s coming from someone who lights dynamite on his cigarettes and vice versa.

I knew something was wrong with him when he looked like more of a mess than usual, and when he started walking into walls I thought it might be good to tell the others. They just shrugged and asked about the gerbil.

I know he’s loopy, but falling unconscious, face-first into your lunch is not his thing.

I suggested he do something before he killed someone—when he woke up.

And he did. He took a fucking chair, went into his room and started smashing the gerbil wheel.

Things didn’t get better after that.

Tifa asked how the gerbil was the next day and he started screaming that it was running circles in the cage and that it wouldn’t stop and give him a moment of quiet.

Many, I must have a huge-ass snake by now. I wonder why I can’t find it.

Well, the rabbit chewed on everything fabric, including Vincent’s pants, but couldn’t tell there was flesh underneath, so they were both hospitalized after he managed to shoot it.

The mice smelled worse than my ashtray, the rats got into the fridge, the chinchilla… if you look like a fluffy pillow and feel like a fluffy pillow, don’t take a nap on a bed used buy some guy who weighs half as much as the plane you’re fucking living on.

Apparently Vincent didn’t mind using it as one and it didn’t mind either. I guess it’s easier than arguing with a ball of fluff, now ain’t it?

…I wondered why his face was all sandy first thing in the morning.

The squirrel didn’t work very well. I really fucking wonder how Yuffie got here before bleeding to death from bite wounds. Somehow I doubt the pet store gave it to her, ‘honest.’ Tasted good, though.

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