text: Author's note: This story is here because of an amazing person called Rayhan. He asked for a new story-which I had not given you Reeders in a long time- and I delivered. (WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? GO FOLLOW HIM BUT FIRST READ THE STORY!) What's wrong with him? You touch your head and groan. There is a steady stream of blood running down it. Then you see your sloth. After rethinking your life choices, you wrench the sloth out of your bed and start screaming at it in slow motion, because it's a sloth and it's slow. The only language it can understand is slow. After tiring yourself with hoarse and scratchy slow-screeching, you flop back in bed, procrastinating on laundry and dusting. The sloth only makes it worse. As you drift off, you hear a bang and swore that you heard slow motion swearing. You jump up with a few choice words as well, regretting ever getting the sloth. The sloth has no name. You couldn’t afford to pay some affection for a cute, meaningful name like Mr. Cuddles or Flash. No, the sloth was just a worthless gift, used up like an empty toothpaste bottle, and can be thrown away just as easily. What you would give to be an animal-expert right now. How do they take care of pets? Soon, you wake up every night bleeding. On the best days you just get a scratch. On the worst, it's a bloody gash. If you are lucky, you get a prick. When you had planned to go for a walk, of course you weren’t planning for a stupid sloth to be right there on your doorstep. Of course you picked him up. And now, you wanted to scream at Past You for being so, so naïve. And then this whole “to have a sloth, or to whatever- since-you-didn’t-listen-to-your-teacher-Mrs. Something” How ridiculous. And when you finally stopped your train of thought your house was a mess. And your plans were ruined. You were going to step outside, splash in the newly formed puddles, go to the store and get a bagel, then loop back home. Instead, you picked up a sloth and now he’s ruining your room, terrorizing your sleep, and has sent you to the hospital for loss of blood many times. “Alright, so you want to send a sloth to jail? ” “Yes sir, for attempted murder and stealing.” “What?” “I’m telling you about a sloth so you and throw him in jail. Do you have a hearing problem?” “Pardon me, but you said you were reporting a sloth. What the hell did a sloth do to you?” “ATTEMPTED MURDER ON ME!!! YOU SEE THESE GASHES? HUH? SEE THEM? HE DID THAT!! THE SLOTH DID IT!!!” After that, you had to go to therapy. You hated it and beat up many chairs before you could leave. You ran to your unclean home, picked up the sloth, and grinned evilly. “So, Mr. Sloth. Let’s have a little chat.” Flinging him into a chair, you stood over him like a cat cornering a mouse. The poor thing looked at you and tilted it’s head. “As you know, you have been causing me trouble. My house is in shreds, my face hurts, I have multiple bills, everyone thinks I’m crazy, I think I’m crazy, and I know you know I know you know all that somehow fits into YOUR FLIPPIN’ FAULT YOU BEAST!” The sloth fell off the chair, and now you have much more bills to pay. As the days drag on, you prepare yourself for the war against your demon sloth. Cute and friendly it may seem, it’s actually a horrendous beast. Buried under those adorable eyes is a burning soul sent by the devil to hack your mind and snap your body in half, blood crawling down your whole body like the demon has sliced you many times. To hell with time; I have a war to win. In the ending, you won the war but lost the battle. Even when locked in it’s cage, it still tried to hypnotize you with its eyes. Eyes.... No! Snap out of it! You can’t fall prey to it! As you stumble and try to wake up, you notice that the sloth has escaped.. Again. The best way to get him back, you found, was to wear your bleeding scream mask and charge at it full speed while chanting “BUTTER STICK BUTTER STICK BUTTER STICK” And then the sloth will freeze in place. You just grab him with leather gloves and shove him in his cage. But this time, it was different. As you geared up, you saw him quietly come towards you, looking like a child walking it’s first steps. Then it slowed and seemed to turn around, stopping and judging you with those beady little eyes. You found yourself looking at them, unable to move or turn away as you felt the devil come to you. Or maybe not, you realized. The eyes were filled with something other than an otherworldly demon from an imaginary space in our minds. Warm. The warmth you feel when someone hugs you, the warmth that you get when you drink hot cocoa. The warmth that this sloth is showing right now. But why? I have been so mean to him. Why do I deserve this warmth? Then it hits you like a fire truck in reverse driven by a baby. It doesn’t care. It’s a sloth. Sloths love everybody. You gently pick up the sloth and carry it back to it’s cage. Then you think hard about your future with it. All the scratches you will receive, all the money you got to pay and all the screaming you probably will do (of course you will scream). But if you have your future with this little menace (well, maybe a cute little menace) then you got to have a name. You abruptly sit up straight, causing your sloth to stare at you. Squinting at him, you whisper: “How about...Ray?” Dedicated to.... Drumroll please: Rayhan Hidayat! For two reasons: 1. THE SLOTH’S NAME and 2. He’s so funny to talk to! And his stories and bio: JUST THE BEST Thanks Rayhan! Have a great day everyone!