◉ 035 | German Pudding

I was a uni student.

A bad one.

That year I worked more jobs

than I sat exams.

Another job came up.

I had to be—

a dog.

Easy money,

I thought.

I arrived at a supermarket,

Billa in Dugave.

Irena was there.

Radiant.

Calm.

Her alter ego:

Montina.

She said we needed to go

to the back room.

I nodded.

And there it was—

a dog costume.

Monti.

Reasonable suit.

But the head—

enormous.

How the fuck

am I supposed to walk

with that thing?

Suit on.

Paws over my shoes.

“Have you done this before?”

Irena asked.

“Nope.”

“The head might feel

a little claustrophobic.”

She lowered the head.

Darkness swallowed me. I could see nothing.

She adjusted it—

a tiny mesh came into view,

hidden under Monti’s nose.

I was already hot. Struggling to breathe.

Wanted it off,

and we hadn’t even left

the storeroom.

“Don’t worry. Give me your hand. I’ll guide you.”

Out we went—

to hype kids and parents up.

Irena was handing out

four-pack Monte chocolate puddings.

From Zott.

I was stumbling around

in the oversized paws.

Couldn’t see where I was stepping

as the head

wouldn’t tilt downwards.

Might step on a child.

She held my paw.

“You need to do more. Not just follow.”

Sweat poured.

Thought about knights in full armour.

Except nobody held their hands.

Gave some high fives to kids.

Even tried to dance a little.

Felt like a fucking monkey.

Asked Irena when the break was.

“Soon,” she said.

Minutes slow.

Thick—

like pudding.

Couldn’t breathe.

Needed the suit off.

Back to the storeroom,

finally.

She lifted Monti’s head.

Air.

I looked at her.

She smiled.

“You’re not coming back tomorrow,

are you?”