Fudds didn’t like riding on dogs (he hated how they smelled), so he parked himself on human hats instead. He had to hold on tight in case the human slapped the hat against its hand or waved it around, but overall he got a much better ride (and a better view) from being on top of a human than a dog.
Since fleapeople were invisible to humans, he was never caught, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t suspected. After all, fleapeople weren’t as small or light as fleas–in Fudds’ case, he was about the size and weight of a tennis ball. Humans were usually surprised by the weight of their hats, but on inspection they never found anything out of the ordinary with it. They’d shrug, plop their hat on, and venture forth.
Another problem with riding humans was that humans were sometimes allergic to fleapeople. They would get red bumps on their scalps and scratch and scratch and Fudds would have to dodge probing fingers. Once or twice he bit at them, which always met with him getting swatted off.
Despite these setbacks, Fudds towered above his people. When his human ride bent down to pet a dog, Fudds could see fleapeople friends looking up at him with envy. He would wink at them and tip the hat on his head, which, for some reason, was feeling heavy lately.
Day 306’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Out of a hat,” “Fleapeople,” and, “Those aren’t goosebumps.”
What would fleapeople for fleapeople be called?