Little Mini Bert

Bert let out another long, drawn out sigh as he sat at the kitchen table that morning, blowing a small trail of steam away from his coffee mug in the process. He couldn’t help it. He had begun feeling more depressed recently. He knew exactly why, too; his drug addiction was getting worse. Truth be told, he didn’t want to be on them anymore, but he felt like there was nothing else he could do to combat his depression.

He stood up, planning to go repeat his usual daily routine (that included getting so high he couldn’t see straight), but the doorbell rang suddenly. He slowly walked to the front door and opened it, but no one was standing there. He frowned and was about to shut the door when he looked down at the ground. A baby carrier sat on the welcome mat with a piece of paper pinned to the top of it. Bert carefully took the note from its place and read it.

Please take good care of my baby. I couldn’t afford to feed her anymore.

Bert almost considered retreating into his house and leaving it for someone else to deal with, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the baby’s situation. He knelt down to the ground to get a better look at it, but its soft, pink blanket was pulled up over its head. He carefully pulled back one corner of the fabric and was immediately met with a powerful sneeze directly aimed at his face. Disgusted, he wiped the goo away from his eyes and looked back at the baby, not quite sure what to think.

“Hey there, little one.”

It neighed back.