Fried and Concussed

No, that isn't an order from KFC.

 

This is the tale of a true, traumatic event that happened to me a few weeks past.

 

It was a nice day out, so I was being taken to my outdoors home in a run in the garden.

 

A run! Like a caged bear!

 

And as always, the light in my vivarium was on and heating me nicely.

 

And as I was being lifted from my vivarium

 

(Against my will)

 

By my male owner

 

(Lets call him Morris)

 

He did something inexcusable.

 

(And yes, I am deliberately building the tension)

 

And as he was lifting me out, not caring at all about my safety, Morris failed to notice the position of the light bulb in conjunction to my head.

 

And do you know what he did?

 

He went and donked my head against this searing hot light bulb.

 

Donked, hit, banged, whatever you may say... it hurt!

 

Now, I enjoy being toasty, but not fried!

 

I gave Morris my very best grumpy face.

 

I was also in a most sour disposition for the rest of the day, which makes me consider the possibility of a brain tumour, or concussion.

 

So here I am, fried and concussed and apparently, I don't have any right to be grumpy!

 

And, would you believe, Morris and the rest of the family just laughed.

 

They laughed.

 

At my pain.

 

What kind of people do that?

 

Anyway, I'm still in recovery at the moment, but it has been a pleasure as always to complain to you.

 

Until next time,

 

Henry.

My troubled childhood, volume 3

Yes, I know, I know. Is it possible to believe that I have yet more trauma to share?

 

Yes. It is.

 

Last time, we learnt about my good friend Zoe.

 

And how I'm male. No matter what you may have heard.

 

Now because I'm male, I'm bigger and stronger.

 

And therefore, I need more food.

 

But my owners, seemed to be under the impression that myself and Zoe should share the food.

 

Equally.

 

I know, horrible right?

 

But I needed more, I was a growing boy, and so because I took a little more, I began to get in trouble.

 

Big trouble.

 

And then... Then Zoe began to get ill.

 

Really ill.

 

Because, she didn't have enough to eat.

 

And so, when we were about 5, she... she died.

 

And it broke my heart.

 

You see, she was the only one that was there with me, captivated by our owners.

 

She was the only one who understood.

 

She was my only friend.

 

And then she went.

 

Went to heaven.

 

And it could possibly have been slightly my fault.

 

And that thought, that guilt, is what I've been trying to escape from for the past 14 years.

 

It could possibly be the reason for why I'm so grumpy now.

 

It wasn't long after this that the whole 'pyromaniac' incident happened.

 

Maybe that was just a cry for help.

 

Great, now I'm turning into a self helpist.

 

But, I don't want to go into that now.

 

Maybe another time.

 

 

Henry.

My troubled childhood, volume 2

As I promised last time, the tales of my troubled childhood are far from over.

 

In fact, they've barely even begun.

 

As I mentioned, I was purchased at the same time as my friend Zoe.

 

Who was a FEMALE.

 

However, what the shop FAILED to report, was that we WEREN'T BOTH FEMALE.

 

Yep, you guessed it.

 

I lived the first few year of my life, not as Henry, but...

 

Wow, this is hard...

 

For the first few years of my life, I was Henrietta.

 

That's right.

 

Laugh all you like.

 

Believe me now that it was traumatic?

 

I don't quite know how they came to the obvious realisation.

 

But I have a feeling that it was probably something to do with the amount of  personal time that Zoe and I spent together.

 

Or maybe the fact that we look completely different!

 

Look, can't you tell the difference between these two tortoises? One's male and one's female.

 

 

 

It's really not that hard people!

 

Tell me below which one you think is which, and if you get it wrong... beware.

 

And, would you believe, I actually do still have more trauma to share, so there will be a volume 3 coming very very soon.

 

Until then,

 

Henry. NOT Henrietta.

My troubled childhood, volume 1

Now I know what you must be thinking by now.

 

That tortoise, what does he have to complain about?

 

Well wait until I tell you about my childhood.

 

Then you'll all be begging to give me your hankies.

 

However, please don't as I have no use nor want for a hankie.

 

You see, before I was even born and before my owners had children, my owners took another tortoise captive.

 

This was a good friend of mine and they didn't even call him by his name!

 

He had just been out for a nice walk (he had not escaped!) when he unfortunately wandered into the front garden of my owners. 

 

So of course they decided to take advantage of this poor defenceless tortoise.

 

They held him there (I expect for ransom) for about a week, so I'm told and then he was returned to his owners.

 

However, this experience had made my owners desperate for a tortoise.

 

 

Thus, my story began.

 

 

But, in the time between they began looking for a tortoise and the time they actually acquired me, they had a baby.

Then they got me.

 

And do you know what?

 

I don't think that they actually wanted me!

 

They also got my friend Zoe at the same time, but that is another tragic story, that I don't really want to go into at the moment.

 

Save that for next time shall we?

 

 

For now though, all the best.

 

Henry

My greatest annoyance

In my life, I have many annoyances. However, my greatest annoyance isn't my family, it isn't my home. It's much much bigger then that.

 

 

I am a TORTOISE.

 

 

I have CLAWS.

 

 

I am NOT a TURTLE.

 

 

TURTLES have FINS.

Or flappers of something like that.

I don't know, I don't tend to associate myself with those creatures.

 

Let me demonstrate it for you:

 

 

A TORTOISE CLAW


                                 






A TURTLE FIN

 

 

 

 

 

Different species!

IT'S REALLY NOT THAT HARD!!!

 

 

And, for those people out there who have never heard of a TORTOISE and are only aware of TURTLES and SEA TURTLES...

 

YOU ARE WRONG!

 

 

So, for the purposes of this blog, if I ever see that other species being mentioned, I will blow my top.

 

And ask my family, I have so pretty creative revenge methods. 

 

 

 

Henry.

 

 



Hi.

Hi.

My name is Henry.

I am 19 years old.

I live in England.

I have been called a pyromaniac.

However, this is completely unfair and ridiculous.

I've run away from home before.

But I was returned.

Against my will.

But I don't want to tell all my good stories in the first post.

This is me:

 

Yeah, I know what you're thinking.

 

That tortoise is actually a pretty handsome fella.

 

 

This is where I live:

 

It's called a vivarium, but it is just a glorified fish tank.

I've seen these really fancy ones with ponds and branches!

What do I get?

A casserole dish and a few stones.

Thanks family.

 

 

 

I have started this blog mainly so that I can vent my anger about my family.

Who I don't particularly like.

I've also got some pretty incredible stories to tell.

But you'll have to stick around to hear them.

 

Henry.