The Tasmanians by Brendan Way

As soon as I saw them, I knew they had to be mine. Of course, I didn’t come to the zoo with the intention of smuggling out a couple of little beasts in my trousers, but it just sort of happened.

I guess it was their beady little eyes that got me. They stared out, perhaps due to boredom, but to me, they were looking into my soul. It’s addictive, that feeling. There’s no way you’d get that boost from substances – there is just no substitute for a Tasmanian gaze.

So, I decided to ensure my appetite was permanently sated. After checking that no one was watching, I reached into the enclosure, picked a few up, and slipped them into my pockets. Walking out, I was hoping that someone, anyone, would stop me and ask about my suspicious bulges, but nobody did. Maybe they simply thought that I was particularly over-endowed, or were just too scared to approach me. Either way, I got away with it, and now I have a family of devils to look after.

Anyone know what they eat?