She had a nose, a lucky thing for now. That hefty coke habit was eating away at her already gossamer nasal linings. Sure, her sisters had harangued her incessantly to hang up the habit, but for the time she knew she was fine. Besides, her hamster had been so cheerfully garrulous and chatty of late. She knew it was the coke that was helping her talk to her hamster, but their relationship was the strongest it had ever been and she was not about to change things now.
She was far from the feckless or impecunious addict. She had purpose. She would carry a message from the father to diffuse among her housemates every morning, a harbinger of the day's worship schedule. She would wake early, to greet the other houses' chosen diplomats to the Holy One, the Father. They would march on as a group to seek and receive direction from Him. They would then disperse back to their houses and wake each sister with their hamsters. This was a life of distinction and dignity.
Today was a pinnacle in her life. While she was receiving the days message from the Father, her hamster was performing an exegesis of her drug habit. Her hamster was realizing that it was exacerbating the prolongation of her drug usage. If the Father found out she was flouting the rules, she would surely lose everything that she had worked for: hamster privilege, dignity, senior sister status in her house. Hamster, unable to go on knowing that it could destroy her, scuttled across the floor to her sewing basket and pierced his heart with a needle. There hamster died, amidst a rainbow of tangled threads, to evade an imminent iniquity that would have been the fate of it's only friend.
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