Mini-Moribund Mini-Moribund

With Leather Comes Attitude
a Mini-Peter Adventure transcribed by Nikki, 2007

April 13: The jacket goes to his head...

     After about a week in the leather jacket, Mini-Peter had started to adopt a rebellious attitude. At first I thought it was cute, and that he was just playing a role to match his new wardrobe.
     Then Kitty and Lugnut came to me one day with troubled faces.

Kitty and Lugnut

     "What's with Mini-Peter lately?" Lugnut asked.
     "I don't know," I replied, "I think he's trying to be cool or something."
     "He called me Fluff Bum," Kitty complained, looking hurt.
     "And he called me Bolt Bucket," Lugnut added.
     "Bolt Bucket? What does that even mean?"
     "I have no idea but he definitely meant it as an insult."
     "I'm sorry. I'll have a talk with him."
     I left to find Mini-Peter. I eventually located him behind his box with his Orange Sharpie, leaving his mark on my wall!

tagging my wall

     "Mini-Peter, what are you doing?!" I snatched the sharpie from his hands, and he swung around with a snarl.
     "Gimmie that!" he demanded.
     "You promised no tagging!"
     "I never promised. I live here, these are my walls too!"
     "Then hang something on them! You can't write on the walls with permanent marker! What's gotten into you, Mini-Peter?"
     "What's got into ME? What's got into YOU?!!? You're stifling me!"
     "That jacket is stifling you."
     He grabbed at the Sharpie but I lifted it up out of his reach.
     "I'm keeping this," I informed him.
     "I'm sorry. If you're going to act like a child, I'll have to treat you like one."
     He tossed a few choice expletives my way then threw a mini-tantrum, kicking over his box and tearing up his Orange piece of paper, then blaming me for making him tear up his Orange piece of paper.


     As he sulked amongst the carnage, I really began to worry. This wasn't like him at all. Maybe he needed a change of scenery. I was house-sitting at my mom's for a few days, so I decided to bring him along.

     He behaved himself fairly well on the way over. Once we'd arrived, I had some cat duty to attend to, so I let Mini-Peter explore on his own.
     "Just stay upstairs," I told him. "If you go down the stairs you're likely to meet the dogs."
     "D-d-d-d-dogs?" he asked, trying to look tough.
     "Yeah, two of 'em."
     "T-t-two d-d-d-d-d-d-dogs?" He zipped up his jacket and straightened his sunglasses to hide his terror, but he was shaking so much I couldn't even get a focused photo.

zipping up the jacket

     "Yeah. Two dogs who would just love to chew on your head."
     "Hey, I'm too cool for dogs. I'll just stay up here, they're not worthy of my company."
     I just rolled my eyes and got to scooping cat litter. After a few minutes, Mini-Peter drove up in a shiny silver convertible.


     So he'd found my sisters' Barbie accessories.
     "Drive safely," I called out as he zoomed away. About thirty seconds later, he passed me again, this time with company.

with Barbie

     So he'd found my sisters' Barbies.

     The next time he passed, he was with a different one.

with Barbie's friend

     And the next time, he had an entourage.

with Entourage

     I just sighed and shook my head. It must be the jacket.

     As I was carrying the cats' food to their bowls, Mini-Peter screeched to a halt at my foot.
     "Hey watch where you're going!" he yelled up at me. He was alone.


     "What happened to your friends?"
     "They have no sense of adventure."
     "Ah. And what happened to your seatbelt?"
     "You gonna get outta my way or not?"
     "Not 'til you put the seatbelt back on."
     He flashed me an obscene gesture then backed up and squealed around my foot.
     "Be careful!" I shouted after him. "Clay doesn't grow back together, you know!"

     As I dumped cat food into the bowls, the three cats came running out to eat. Mini-Peter came tearing around a corner chasing Callie, and nearly ran into Meep. He swerved to miss her and looked back as he accellerated away, giving her two fingers.
     "Mini-Peter!" I exclaimed as I saw disaster approaching-- "Look out for the--"


     Panic set in as I ran down to find him on the landing. He was pinned under the overturned car, but thankfully did not appear to be seriously injured.

the wreckage

     I kneeled at the wreckage. "Are you okay?"
     "" he squeaked in a voice half his size.
     "Oh, big tough Jacket Man is asking for help now, eh?"
     "please get this car off me," he asked weakly.
     I lifted it off and helped him to his feet. "Are you okay?" I asked again.
     "I think so," he replied, rubbing his head.
     "You sure are lucky there's a landing here."
     "AAAHHH!!" he screamed suddenly. "D-d-d-d-d"
     "Yeah, DOGS," I taunted him as he frantically climbed my knee. "Come on," I said, plucking him from my leg. "Let's go home."

     I stopped in the kitchen to get some ice for his head, and he didn't let go of my arm until we got to the car.
     He sat in silence for the first few miles, until finally he spoke in a solemn voice.
     "Are you going to take away my jacket?" He asked, looking at his knees.

feeling guilty

     "No, I think you've learned your lesson."
     "Thank you."
     "You have some amends to make at home, though."
     "Yeah... I know..."

     As soon as we got back to my room, he apologized very sincerely to Kitty and Lugnut, then took off his jacket and announced that he would only wear it for special occasions, like watching Rockpalast. Of course, he does that nearly every day, but his point was made.
     Still holding the ice pack to his head, he gathered up all the bits of orange paper into a bag, then started scrubbing his initials off the wall.

scrubbing the wall

     "Mini-Peter, you don't have to do that right now. Wait until you feel better."
     "I won't feel better until I've undone all the damage I've caused. Can you ever forgive me?"
     "Oh, Mini-Peter, I already have. We all make mistakes, you're only flesh and bone."
     "Sorry, clay and plastic."
     He smiled and got on with his scrubbing. It was a hard lesson he'd learned, but he'd learned it well, and I was pround of him.