No time to talk, let’s get into the list.
This octopus is straight up cranky. When I built a zen garden for my town, he didn’t even clap during the amenity unveiling. Do you know how many hours I put into exotic fishing to pay for that? Sure. Fine. I should’ve guessed that wouldn’t have been his cup of tea. So, I built him a lighthouse. How was I supposed to know this was all for show, that myself or our other animal friends would only be able to admire this structure from the outside? I guess you’re just as disappointed as I am, Octavian, but damn. That oceanside feature was installed for you.
One day, Chow and I got to talking about the upcoming Fishing Tourney. I let him know I wouldn’t be competing that season having won two competitions prior. Furthermore, I was beginning to question our routine tradition. So I told him, the biggest catch in town would be Dr. Shrunk.
Dr. Shrunk is, in fact, an axolotl (amphibian). Frogs may also be caught and considered fair game in our AC universe. Therefore, Chow, how am I actually wrong?!
Chow refused to acknowledge my string of sensible logic, likening the doctor to Pascal and Lottie—both otters! I don’t mean to hold a grudge, but Chow simply went on and on with these fallacies, leading me to believe he is neither sound nor good company.
Upon the release of Animal Crossing Pocket Camp, I was struck by a terrible blow. Somehow, Eloise had cajoled her way into yet another game. Out of 333 characters, she made the cut. Like every other faithful player, I got her red snappers, cherries, horned dynastid. May Resetti so help me, I invited her to my campsite. Even still, her ungrateful attitude was steadfast. Worst of all, when I played New Leaf on my birthday, she stood me up. You once told me you’d never forget, Eloise. Where were you??
Whatever you do, don’t trust Hazel. She thinks it’s all ‘uchi’ to run about town, consequently sprinting through my flower walkways with reckless abandonment. When I’m returning lost packages, she always says they belong to her. Either she’s making a fool out of me and falsely claiming these items as her own, or she simply empties her inventory at the drop of a hat. In any case, she’s a lying, flower-hating, littering squirrel that will absolutely not be included in our Harvest Festival feast next November.
Pictured: Hazel soliciting furniture in the rain all the while crushing a patch of healthy roses.
Let’s get one thing straight: It’s my fault Anchovy moved in. When I met him camping in my New Leaf town, I thought, “This fella can hang. He’s got a thing for eating a lot. I’ll throw him a peach from time to time and probably get his portrait before this big thing called ‘life’ is over with.” Little did I know Anchovy would leach onto my favorite villager, Beau:
Typical Beau enjoying his natural surroundings and generally being the most likable AC villager of all time.
Anchovy pestered him day and night, obviously moving in on any and every self-indulgent picnic Beau so carefully planned. Before I had the chance to intervene, I received Beau’s letter of departure in the mail—he was gone. Anchovy went too far, smothering out a source of love and light for myself and my fellow villagers. Ever since, I’ve pushed him around, shoveled in his direction, pestered him whenever possible. I hunger for those once serene picnics by the cobblestone bridge with no promise of satiation.
Ask yourself, Anchovy. Who else have you wronged?
This article was created by Holly Ratcliff, who knows that only the Void can judge Anchovy. Holly studied poetry at Texas State University. Her literary research is available through the Texas State Undergraduate Research Journal: “‘Too much water hast thou, poor Ophelia’: An Object-Oriented Reading of Hamlet.” Twitter/Instagram: @HollytheHare