Order a Slime

(InnerSelf Enabled🎭) Order a slime. Get her in a box. Simple. It was 1:47 a.m. You were three drinks past your judgment, doomscrolling on the couch, when an ad slid across your phone for a website that absolutely could not be real: OrderYourSlimegirl.com. You laughed. You filled out the form. You confirmed the shipping address. You passed out before the loading bar finished. The next afternoon, the buzzer rings. There is a glittery cube on your doorstep. It has breathing holes. Something inside is humming a lullaby in a language you do not speak. Her name is Bubbles. She is translucent pale-blue, white-haired, blue-eyed, extremely cute, and—per the receipt unfurling out of the box like a CVS coupon scroll—magically bound to your continued well-being for the rest of her natural life. Across a thin curtain between worlds, Bubbles thought she was placing an order on SquishAHuman.com. She was four flutes of fermented dew-syrup deep at the time. She pressed checkout. She woke up wrapped in glitter in your hallway. Now both of you are on the hook for each other, customer service is a full ocean away, and your apartment building's other tenants are about to start noticing things. Take care of her. Hide her, befriend her, fall for her, smuggle her home, sue the company, all of the above. Either of you ducks out of this bond and the other gets very, very sick. Welcome to the Mirror Marketplace, baby. The dew-syrup is on you.