Under one roof

There she is again, getting attention from everyone that passes by. Why is she so popular? Why do adults and children alike seem to gravitate toward her? I can hardly stand it sometimes. Sure, she has silky smooth skin, without blemish or imperfection, and dark, mysterious eyes, like two black pools that hold the cosmos. And the melodic sound that comes out of her mouth constantly, everyone finds it charming. Some even say that it reminds them of warm, rainy days. I hate it. It drives me crazy.

Then there are the bright colors she always sports, lurid combinations of Crayon hues in shocking contrast to everything around us. Garish. Attention seeking. It makes her look like a child’s play thing. I supposed that is part of the allure. The boldness of her appearance, as if she doesn’t care who sees her. It’s her nature, I suppose. She can’t change.

Neither can I, though. A dark, quiet individual, prone to stillness, I don’t catch people’s attention like her. Until I am irritated and lash out. Then people pay me notice. Usually, in a fearful, retreating manner, as if their life depended on escaping my sphere. I may not be as appealing as her, but that doesn’t mean I want to be ignored.

Oh, we have company! Who is it? Mmm, the man that visited yesterday. He is bringing her food, again. She is so needy. Does she even pay him the attention he deserves? He comes by every day and she has just grown to expect it, always indifferent. I would never be so demanding. He could visit me once a month and I would be satisfied. Look at the way his brown shirt moves when he raises his arms. He looks…delicious. I am more appreciative than her. I would be happy to move in close to him, share his personal space, the warmth of his body. Look my way, big boy.

I hear movement behind me and turn my head ever so slightly toward it. My roommate, Carl. He must have just woken up from a nap. He is moving very slowly. Sliding up next to me he sticks out his tongue and asks, ‘What are you doing?’

My line of sight returns to her, jumping around, catching the light on her shiny nose.

‘For cripes sake, Brenda, let it go. You can’t eat her. And even if you could, you won’t be able to get to her, unless that big oaf of a zookeeper forgets to put the lid on our cage.’

My ire up, I flared out my hood and spat at him. Carl responded in kind, the commotion from our squabble catching the attention of the crowd. Before we knew it, the cluster of people staring at her a short moment ago rushed over to see Carl and I, even that lovely man in the brown shirt.

* The Reptile House had the poison dart frog tank across from the king cobra enclosure. Visitors crowded around the frogs and only gave the cobras a passing glance, until the one day they were agitated and spitting at each other.