#i am not sure what noise a vacuum cleaner makes when it dies. i'm also unsure who other than my family vacuums a couch but then again i was

[queennicoleinboots]

Peter turns into a Giraffe, and I am now a Jaguar (Xara POV)

If there is one human being I have hated more than life itself in the last two and a half years, it is Peter Parker. He is the most self-absorbed, immune-to-aging, immature, dense, airheaded, curly-haired NUISANCE JERK I HAVE EVER MET! I cannot take his bullshit anymore. I can't believe we haven't killed each other yet. He was so obnoxious today. He hit his all-time high of being the biggest, curly-haired, glasses-wearing, green-eyed, TALL douche on the face of the Earth.

My day with him was the worst ever in the entirety of my still 30-year-old body. I refuse to age if this dickwad can still look 40 while almost being 55. He can be 55. I'll remain 30 for the next year or so. Fuck him. Fuck him and his fountain of youth. His bullshit was INCESSANT. First, he purposely tossed his mold samples that he collected for the sheer purpose of fucking with me into his bath tub and made me clean them. Then, he snickered and placed an alive American roach into his toilet bowl while letting it swim until it was hiding in the rim. I screamed bloody murder and yelled, "Fuck you, Peter Parker!"

He laughed at me again because he is a son of a bitch. I threw a can of Pete's Liquid Gold at his fucking curly-haired head. I was so sick of his never-ending bullshit.

While he was peacefully cleaning up his room and making random noises to relieve mental anguish, I was dealing with yet another sample of mold in the guest bathroom. He had it in the sink and bath tub. I sighed and cleaned it, but believe me when I say that I wanted to shove the bottle of cleaning spray up his ass. And, I was so pissed because he even had a talking toilet in the bathroom.

"Hello. I wanted to let you know that Peter's shit is abundant and nutritious," the toilet said.

I slammed the lid on the toilet hard before I started a barrage of verbal abuse toward this beanstalk nuisance pest jerk. "PETER YOU ARE OFFICIALLY THE BIGGEST PAIN IN THE ASS I HAVE EVER MET IN MY LIFE!!! EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD IS YOUR FAULT!!! YOU HAVE SINGLE-HANDEDLY MY RUINED MY LIFE WITH YOUR CURLY HAIR AND ABUNDANT TALENT THAT DWARFS MINE!!!!"

Peter laughed as he made his room look perfectly normal in between making random sounds that helped him relieve stress and anxiety. Those sounds made me laugh both out of sheer nervousness and high amusement.

A text message came in on my phone. It was Colonel America telling me that Gabby sent his regards. I read this text while Peter was going on his own tirade: "Happy extremely-belated Birthday. Again. You can't stop the aging process. Gabby can attest that. He sends his regards."

I sent this text while Peter still kept going: "GABBAYY!!! Thank you, Colonel America, but I refuse to be older than 30 until I am 33. Fuck 31. I hate that number. It's a name of a multi-level marketing company that sells handbags. It might as well sell tiny classified ads."

Because I can process more than one conversation at a time, I can tell you that Peter said, "If I am the biggest pain in the ass you've ever met, you have it made. Also, I am not the cause of half of the bullshit NEUROSES you have in your head. And good God there's a lot. Jeez. I've met a lot of women, but yours is up there Jesus Christ! Your life has been a pile of shit BEFORE you met me. I had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH IT! Crazy. You're crazy. CRAAAAAZZZYY!!!!" He sang the word "CRAAAAAZZZYY!!!!"

"Ugh. Am not! Or maybe I am. It's your fault. Your drive me crazy!" I yelled.

"Again that's crazy. You were CERTIFIABLY INSANE before you knew I even existed," Peter said with an obnoxious laugh. Goddamn I wanted to punch him.

"Fuck you! I hate how much better than me you are than I am!" I screamed at him.

Peter laughed. "Some of us just got it," he said casually. "Nice redundancy! Ha! Ha!"

"Yeah, I know. Fuck you. You flaunt it in my face EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE!!! I hate the English language, and I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!!" I screamed as I threw a bottle of multipurpose cleaner at his door.

The fucker laughed. "I only see you three times a week. Haha." He snickered before the small vacuum cleaner turned into Gabby. "Oh no. What the fuck?"

"THIS IS CNN!" Gabby said as he jumped on Peter's bed.

"What the shit is going on?" I asked.

"FUCK IF I KNOW! My vacuum cleaner turned into Gabby Hayes from CNN. WHY?! I AM NOT DOING ANYTHING NEWSWORTHY!!!!" Peter screamed.

"You exist, Peter W. Parker. That's newsworthy," Gabby said.

"GABBAYYYY!!!" I yelled as I charged into Peter's room to cuddle and kiss Gabby.

Gabby kissed me and then laid on top of me. "This is newsworthy. Thank you, Xara. I missed you," he said.

"Goddamn. You know the news has gone to shit when a Siamese cat appears in my bedroom out of my God-Forsaken vacuum cleaner, and it's newsworthy holy Shit. Get a recall on this fucking vacuum cleaner," Peter said as he scratched his head.

Gabby and I laughed. Gabby was laying on my stomach and purring.

"Why my Uncle Irwin decided to give short notice to his visit is beyond me. Maybe because his prefrontal cortex was malformed after a car accident. Ya know, a lot of shit has happened to my family because of car accidents," Peter said thoughtfully.

"Sorry to hear," Gabby said.

"Yeah, me, too. My sister died. Uncle Irwin's brain was damaged. My cousin Richard had a back injury... I had a black woman chase me while she was masturbating because I rear-ended her..." Peter trailed off.

Gabby and I laughed again.

I lifted Gabby off of me and put him on the bed. "I have to piss," I said as I went into the bathroom.

I lifted the lid of the toilet to sit down.

"Nice ass," the toilet said.

"Thank you," I said as I sat down on him and peed.

"Deelicious! Deelicious! DELICIOOOOUSSS!!! DELICIOOOOUSSS!!!

DELICIOOOOUSSS!!!" the toilet sang.

I wiped myself off down there before flushing the toilet.

"DELICIOOOOUSSS!!!" the toilet sang.

I washed my hands and continued to clean the bathroom. I opened the door to continue to speak. "Peter, I can't believe you made me come here bright and early again. I thought you learned from a year and seven months ago that waking me up early would cause mayhem and destruction in your life!"

"Blame Uncle Irwin. He's the one coming here at 3. He wanted to conduct business with my dad and hang out with me. I wake up bright and early, so I'm totally fine with it. You're the one on a weird schedule," Peter said as he walked in here.

I turned to him. "Only to avoid humanity," I said with a smile.

"That's your problem," Peter said with a smirk as he looked directly in my eyes.

"It's MY prerogative!" I said and danced to the tune of 'It's My Prerogative' by Bobby Brown.

"Great song! It's MY prerogative!" Peter sang along in an obnoxious high-pitched voice.

I laughed before he started laughing. We laughed for a few minutes before he straightened up and said, "Get back to work!"

I sighed. "Fine!!! Jerk," I said as I scoffed.

He sighed loudly. I sighed. He sighed again. I sighed again.

Gabby meowed loudly.

"Gabbbaaayyyyyyy!!!!" I yelled as I was finishing up my job in the bathroom.

"We have to make Irwin's bed," Peter said.

Gabby then announced, "THIS IS CNN."

"I'm well aware!!!" Peter said as he stormed to the guest room. I knew he stormed because I heard stomping.

I emerged from the bathroom to help that irate curly-haired pain in the ass. He was muttering swear words and struggling to make the bed while I was dusting his room.

"CAN YOU HELP ME?! I CAN'T TELL IF THE SHEETS ARE HANGING ON THE SAME LENGTH ON BOTH SIDES!!!" Peter screamed.

"Sure, jerk," I said as I checked both sides of the bed. "A slight hair uneven on the right side." I went back to dusting.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK, CAN YOU HELP ME?!" Peter screamed as he attempted to put a pillow case on the pillow before throwing it on the bed.

"I'm busy," I said as I stopped dusting before purposely messing up the bed by putting the wrong blanket on the bed.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Peter screamed before throwing his hands in the air.

I laughed. "Making the bed," I said.

"No. Fuck you. That's the wrong blanket," Peter said as he took the blanket off and threw it over Gabby who was watching in extreme amusement.

I laughed and then helped him put the right blanket on the bed. As soon as we attempted to straighten it, Peter huffed.

"Fuck it. It works. I don't care. He can sleep in it. If he doesn't like it, he can kiss my ass," Peter said loudly as he sat on the bed and punched a pillow.

I cracked up. "Are you okay?" I asked while falling on the floor and laughing.

Peter turned his head toward me and looked at me. "Am I okay? Yeah, I'm fine! My uncle Irwin is coming over, and I'm totally not ready. Yeah, everything's great, just great."

"All right! Maybe you won't mind being a giraffe then!" I yelled as I turned him into his favorite animal: a giraffe like I did two years ago. He was still tall, pale, and awkward.

He bleated and looked at me with a "WTF" look.

What the world doesn't know is that I can be a bitch at times, especially to Peter Parker. I have been trolling him for the past two years. I started when he was 52 years old and looking like a 40-year-old. It all started when I handed him a sheet of drywall from Mr. Williamson's garage. (Mr. Williamson was formerly known as Mr. Bright and Early.) Mr. Williamson and I thought it would be funny to torment Peter Parker with what he hated most: drywall. Plus, I am *still* pissed that he is more talented than I am at everything. Fuck him.

Peter turned 55 today. Two years ago, he turned 53. Peter doesn't look like he aged a minute except for a few gray hairs. He is an asshole, and I am jealous.

He seemed to have forgotten that I existed because he was dealing with everyone in his house being sick and/or crippled. We had developed a like-hate friendship that was special. He was the hero, and I was the villain. We argued, trolled, spoke, and had wonderful misadventures together. Then life told me to fuck off. I was unfulfilled because I couldn't hardcore troll Peter anymore. Well, fuck it, I turned Peter into a giraffe again out of sheer spite and frustration!

I laughed and slapped him softly on his side.

"Well, I can't very well continue to clean up being a giraffe," Peter said as he bleated and walked out the door. "Finish up. I can't take this anymore!" He bleated again.

I laughed and continued to clean his house before I turned into a jaguar. I howled in pride when my work was complete.

Peter was outside bleating. I noticed three Venus flytraps emerging from the toilets in the massive toilet garden. I grinned and then made the toilets come alive as though they were the three fairies in Sleeping Beauty.

The three toilets sang French opera as loud as they could outside Peter's house. Peter bleated loudly and joined in on their singing.

"Happy Birthday! Care to take your first poop as a 55-year-old?" the first toilet asked as she opened her mouth wide.

The second toilet said, "Super Coping Giraffe, we have been following you since you were born... 55 years ago."

The third toilet said, "We are inspired by your super coping poops!"

A bird was flying at full speed at Peter's long neck. "Care to reinact 9-1-1? This story is for the birds!" it squawked.

"Let's make like pigeons and shit on this story!" the second bird said as it was also flying at full speed at Peter's long neck.

"Ahhh!!! I'm a super coping giraffe that looks like a llama. I can't believe my housekeeper did this to me again! My life is so awkward!" Peter said as he started running down the driveway.

The pigeons took large shits on Peter's driveway and on Irwin's car before they flew away.

Uncle Irwin drove up the driveway and asked the giraffe, "Excuse me. Is this the Parker residence? Can you believe that my car just got bombarded with bird shit?"

"Yes. I'm Peter Parker," Peter said as he leaned his head down to Irwin's window. "And I just want to pretend that birds didn't shit all over my existence."

"Why the fuck is spiderman a giraffe?" Irwin asked.

Peter bleated loudly and started jumping up and down. "I'm Peter WALLACE Parker! I'm a fucking giraffe! I'm not Spiderman. I used to be Super Coping Man before I had a mental breakdown a year and a half ago! Goddammit!" he screamed.

Irwin beat on his steering wheel and started laughing hysterically. "Oh sorry, Peter. I didn't recognize you because you were a giraffe," he said.

Peter bleated loudly and rolled his eyes. "Do you need help carrying your things in?" he asked.

"No thank you. But I would like to get some sleep," Irwin said as he got out of the car and grabbed a few bags.

"Okay," Peter said as he walked to the mailbox to pick up the mail.

I pounced at Peter and Irwin to startle them. I threw in a loud jaguar growl for added effect.

Peter bleated in fright and dropped the mail.

Irwin dropped his bags and shouted. "Aaahhhhh! What are you?"

"Hi! I'm Peter's housekeeper, Xara. I'm a jaguar, but I look like Foamy the Squirrel. I'm glad you're here, Irwin, because your nephew is boring!" I said before I growled at them again.

"What universe am I in?!" Irwin screamed as he picked up his bags and ran inside.

"Why did you choose now to turn me into a giraffe? Fuck you," Peter said as he kicked me.

"Because it's funny, and you piss me off," I said as I pounced on his butt and started munching on the flesh.

A familiar basenji was charging up the driveway.

"Holy Shit! Tug?! What are you doing here?! I thought you were dead!" Peter exclaimed with a happy, long-lasting bleat as he jumped up and down.

Tug howled and ran up to Peter. They were playing together.

I jumped off Peter's butt before I said, "Happy Birthday, Peter. I finally was able to resurrect Tug for you. Now you have two pets named Tug and Ted."

Ted the Alligator was slinking near the toilets in the toilet garden. "Holy Shit, Tug returned!" he said. "We shall celebrate this day. Happy Birthday, Peter Wallace Parker. And happy Thanksgiving. We are thankful for Tug's return."

Tug did his dance and howled with pride.