Staten Island Chuck
The following manuscript was found gnawed into the plywood reinforcement of Staten Island Chuck’s cage which was being cleaned subsequent to the groundhog’s City Hall mandated euthanasia on Wednesday.
Day 7: Starting to get a bit boring. Same food, day in day out. Of course I may be off a few hours from sunrise and sunset. No matter. I’ll fatten up and sleep through this.
Day 48: Could I be blind? Nothing to see, so how would I know? When I press on my eyes I can still see swirls and starbursts. Could I be blind?
Day 136: Did we once have fur? It’s gone now, that’s for sure. Just pink naked skin all over. At least I think it’s pink. I’m blind, so I can’t tell. Could I be blind and hairless? Did we once have fur?
Day 243: Teeth falling out. Just canines now. Blind, naked. Plenty of food and water.
Day 244: Smeared feces on wall of the Box.
Day 323: They must have been poisoning the food. How could I have been so stupid? I’ll ration it out, even if I starve. Maybe I can get the toxins below some threshold. Maybe my teeth will grow back.
Day 324: So thirsty.
Day 325: Broke down and drank. Need to increase water ration to sustain this. But I’ve fattened up.
Day 344: So hungry. Skin is slack on my naked body. I think I can see again. There’s a crack of light in one corner of the Box. Regimen is working.
Day 351: Remaining teeth are getting stronger.
Day 364: They moved the Box today. No food or water, not that it matters.
Day 365: They tried to kill me today. Opened the box, dazzling light. One of their hands reached in, holding more poisoned food. I leapt forward, biting for all I was worth, the copper taste of blood so warm and salty in my throat. More hands grabbed me, pulling me out of my Box. My Box, my home. God, I was so weak — my body changed so much. I could barely recognize my own shadow.