Page 16 of Grumpy Puck

Oh, and I can’t help but make the mistake of reading the comments.

At the top, there are all the bear jokes, most of which make Seraphina’s puns seem like first-born cubs in comparison.But below that are mean personal attacks.The worst insinuate that I’m a slut and pick apart my looks, while the mildest ones make fun of our names.They callme“Clown Butt Bear” on account of my last name and my mascot outfit.Michael is labeled “Grouchy Bear” because his last name means “Of Bear” in Russian, and his first name shortens to “Misha,” which is also bear-related.

Is that why he is so touchy about bear comparisons?

Must be.It might also explain why he hates the mascot so much, along with the name of his—I mean our—team.If I ended up on a team called the Clown Butts, and it had a mascot that looked like a giant clown’s ass, I wouldn’t be a happy camper either.If I had a penny for every time I was teased with “clown butt” jokes over the years, I’d be able to afford an army of clowns by now, an army that I would order to locate the fuckers who teased me and stuff balloon animals up their asses.

Oh, and more than a few people are theorizing as to why Wolfgang is on my shoulder, with too many bestiality theories even for the internet.

But hey, not all the comments are nasty.A bunch of people are simply rooting for Honey and Boo Boo to get married and have lots of furry cubs.

Yeah, no.After my last breakup, I’m not interested in dating, let alone marriage.What’s the point of meeting someone and going on dates when they’ll break up with you as soon as they meet your family?And marriage?Forget it.No sane man would willingly become a part of the Klaunbut clan.My only option might just be to marry a distant Klaunbut cousin, of which I have countless.Needless to say, if I don’t go the cousin route, the last non-Klaunbut I’d consider would be Mr.Grouchy Bear.

Especially if by some miracle I keep my current job.My ex was a coworker, and I had to switch parks after we broke up, so I’m not repeatingthatmistake again.

Having said all that, looking at us kissing is making my insides feel gooey.

Stupid insides.

It’s probably just hunger.Or thirst.Real thirst, I mean, not a euphemism.

I look at myself in the mirror.“Maybe I should make a large fruit salad to take care of both those needs?”

Then I reply, “Sure, but just in case, don’t use a banana.”

Meal prepped, I share some fruit with my rats, and then I eat the rest.

Hmm.Even thus fortified, I do not become immune to watching that kiss over and over again.

Ugh.I need to stop this.

It’s time to go to work anyway.

I take Wolfgang and get into my car for the short drive to my workplace.I’m not sure what I expect when I get there, but as soon as I’m parked, I’m accosted by Coach, the HR woman I spoke to, and two of the players from yesterday.

“Hello,” I say as my heart drops.“To what do I owe this welcome greeting?”

But of course, I already know what they’ll say.They’re here to inform me that I’m fired, and the two players will serve as security in case I try to fight my way in.

Given that everyone knows about Wolfgang anyway, I make his day by letting him perch on my shoulder instead of hiding in my pocket or purse as I usually would until I got myself into my outfit.

“We figured you’d want some help getting into the building,” Coach says, seemingly unperturbed by the rat on my shoulder.

I blink at him.“You want meinthe building?”Is that where the firing conversation is to take place?

“Well, yeah,” he says.“You officially start today, don’t you?”

“Right.”I’m about to set some sort of record when it comes to getting fired.

“Come then.Sorry about the circus.”

Circus?Is my family here?

No.It’s worse.A mob of journalists is milling by the entrance to the building, and judging by all the cameras pointed at me, this might have something to do with that viral video.

“Get the fuck out of our way,” says one of the players, pushing aside a dozen of the newspeople at once.

Ah.The players have taken on the roles of bouncers, butforme, not against me.

---