I Demand a Cuter Axolotl

When I first saw a picture of an axolotl, smiling cherubically like the baby Jesus swaddled in a blanket made of puppies and peekaboo, I knew I needed to have one. As one of Topeka’s Top Pops of TikTok, an adorable axolotl is critical to my work. My mission is to single-handedly create a global culture of mindful parenting, inspire a love of science, restore good manners, end alopecia, and launch a kidrepreneurial revolution that helps set a new central Midwest region monthly sales record for Life Bouquet Living Werks. Thumbnails are how revolutions get started these days, and I figured an aww-worthy axolotl would make mine more popular than Poppatacular Paul. So I ordered one named Dewdrop.


Take a look at what I got.


No really, look at it.


This axolotl is a Ralph at best. It is not cute, charming, beautiful, quirky, or hot. It’s frankly got a certain Nicolas Cageyness about it, which is a real party foul in amphibian-based daddyvlogging.


What kind of fun, educational, and profitable activities could I film with this axolotl? Kids don’t want to make Perler bead keychains of an axolotl that looks like the Wicker Man. I couldn’t take it to explore the woods—the woods would run away in terror. And if I used it in a spelling quiz, kids would replace every letter with a big, whining “Y?”


Creative writing prompts for older kids are some of my most popular content, but this axolotl is not going to inspire any great novels. It couldn’t even inspire a limerick. Shakespeare wouldn’t be able to do better than “This bulbous bloated turd unleashed its tail.”


And let me make something perfectly clear. I am not body-shaming this axolotl. I am a huge proponent of body positivity, as long as it keeps a respectful distance and is properly hashtagged so I can use a bot to automatically post supportive comments without having to see it. I am face-shaming this axolotl. Makeup is cheap and a lot of it is even tested on animals, so this axolotl has no excuse for not fixing its life.


And let me tell you what’s at stake. Axolotls are a completely untapped content stream among my competitors, which makes them my ticket to the top 50 local dadfluencers. And the top 50 means big business. When you’re in the top 50, you can parley a single post into free parking at the train museum, first choice of finger puppets at library story times, or extra sprinkles at Abe’s Ice Milk Emporium.


By denying me an appropriately attractive axolotl, you’re denying my precious Sophie the opportunity to watch her dad enjoy a premium dessert at a standard price. And that’s what she wished for on her birthday, as you can clearly see from the caption of my third video from March 23.


So I don’t care if you’re not a pet store. I don’t want a pet. I want an engaging visual representation of my quirky yet relatable side. It also needs to be small enough to slingshot into the woods when I’m done with it. The Midwest parenting vlogosphere moves fast, so I’m going to need to find a new gimmick to keep people’s attention within a month. When that happens, it’s better to let Dewdrop find his own path than letting him become a squidgy millstone around my neck trying to ground me on my journey to TikTok stardom and personal and global fulfilment.


I am a wine drinker, a close personal friend of the mayor, and a filer of complaints about every Super Bowl halftime show since Carol Channing. You do not want to fuck with me. Get me a cuter axolotl, now!