Ask Animal Crossing: The Series [OPEN]

A Kind Comment for Blathers

Asleep.

That's the state that Pete found Blathers in.

Asleep. Without any knowledge of the happenings of the outside world.

Pete would usually put the letter inside the mailbox, but there was no mailbox to be seen around the museum. Come to think of it, there were no bathrooms either. The curious absence of such basic necessities tempted him to question the wisdom of the curator, but he quickly dismissed the thought to continue on with his duty.

He quietly walked up to the dozing owl, the slight echo of his footsteps reverberating on the museum walls. He wasn't sure whether to wake him up or to let him continue his nap. 

But it was a curious sight. Blathers had his head tilted downward, a bubble forming from his beak as he snored ever so lightly. It was unnatural to see this for anyone. After all, who else can fall asleep while standing up?

Pete tilted his head, thinking what he should do. He put his wing up to the bottom of his bill, trying very hard to decide on what he should do. A sudden impulse came to him, unnatural and unprofessional. But it was the only thing he could think of.

He poked Blathers.

Neither of them had expected it. Pete didn't expect Blathers to fall backwards from a simple poke. And Blathers didn't expect to wake up on the floor.

Much to his embarrassment, he quickly stood up, straight as a soldier. "Ah! A-a thousand pardons, Pete! How may I be of assistance?"

Pete's expression didn't change, as he simply returned to his job. "A letter for you, Blathers." He pulled out the letter from his bag. An envelope decorated with two kittens was handed over. Blathers looked at the letter in surprise, curious if this was meant for his sister rather than him. But the letter was addressed to him. It wasn't from the Farway Museum, that was for sure, but he gladly accepted the letter.

"Thank you for your services, Pete. Are you on your way to purchase your usual beverage at the Roost, per chance?"

The postal pelican shook his head. "I already had my coffee this morning. Thanks for asking." He adjusted the mail bag over his shoulder before saluting. "I'm off now. Have a good day!" And with that, he walked out of the museum and flew off into the air.

Blather was left feeling a little perturbed; it was morning, right? Of course it's still morning, he smiled, closing his eyes in reassurance. He started to turn around to look at the clock behind him to confirm that fact. "I just happened to doze off and just caught him as he was--GOOD HEAVENS IT'S ALREADY 4:00?!"

He went to his study to properly read the letter. It was a mess, that was for sure: stacks of books laying around, artifacts in packages that he hadn't opened yet, papers that fell off of his desk. For someone who was an astute and orderly scholar, he was ashamed to have such a disorganized office. However, he couldn't deal with it now; he had to read and respond to this letter posthaste. 

He cleared his custom-built oakwood desk of any books and fossils he was studying the previous night. He took out his envelope opener, graciously cut the envelope open in one swift motion, and unfolded the letter. Grabbing his minuscule reading spectacles, he began to read:

Blathers, too dumbfounded by the direct comment, didn't know how to process it. But it was common courtesy to reply to any mail, even if he didn't know how to respond.

Grabbing his quill pen and an elegant piece of stationary, he began to write:

"To the fellow named Stealingyouroxygen

I must say that I am flattered by your admiration and devotion to me (even though I have never met you in person). But please consider not dying. At least, not anytime soon, eh wot?

Furthermore, I must confess: I am not that great at understanding euphemisms or common sayings; I am quite the literalist, you know? Yes it is a fault that I possess. Luckily, I have been accompanying the young children in Animal Village so as to learn the definitions of modern slang. Though to be honest, I never found it appealing to use slang, as I adhere to a strict code of scholarly language. It is the way that all my colleagues at the Farway Museum understand any topic of interest, mostly that pertaining to natural history, science, or historical events.

If you do have any questions regarding fossils, artwork, fish, or bugs, I am at your service at any time.

Sincerely

Blathers

Curator of the Animal Village Museum of Natural History"

He neatly folded the letter into three quarters, grabbed his usual plain envelope and sealed it with a small brush dipped in water. He didn't like licking his envelopes; the taste of the glue was repulsive, and would be rude to send his germs over the mail. However, as he was writing the address on the front, he stumbled upon a unique conundrum...

"What was the fellow's address again? Oh dear. How will they receive my response otherwise?"

He thought for a moment or two before he decided to just write, "Return to Sender" on the original envelope. Then he put his envelope in the addressee's letter. That way, they would get the letter. 

"Hoo... now that that's dealt with, I should probably get back on the floor. I'll just put this letter in my mailbox and....

wait...

I don't have a mailbox, do I?"

Curse that moth that made his original mailbox its home.