Thursday, October 04, 2018

Mr Hamster Bites A Nut

Infinity is a nice concept, but hard to teach to a hamster. I know, I've tried. Got bit. (They're short on patience too.)

Ever tried hamster wrestling? I got beat six-zero yesterday — could use some tips if you gottem.

I have to sit in the corner today because I've been bad. So very, very bad. Or else it's because I got here late and all the other tables were taken. I'll have to think about it for a while. Maybe an answer will come to me. Maybe not. Maybe I should embark on a life of crime. I could become a pirate. Pirates are cool. Instead of carrying a parrot on my shoulder I could have a hamster in my shirt pocket. I could name him "Bob". "Bob the Terrible". Bob would look good with an eye patch. I wear glasses so that wouldn't work for me, but Bob — Bob could pull it off. I'm sure of that. I could train Bob to squeak on cue, fearsomely. Fearsome Bob and his squeaky squeak. That would do it. All the pieces are beginning to fall into place now — my pirate costume, my fearsome pocket pet, a life of crime, and adventure, and — wait — I'll have to get back to this later. My soup just arrived. Mmmmm.

I craved something sweet so I asked my hamster for a kiss, but was overwhelmed by his peanut breath. Anyway, he's a boy. Like yuk. (But don't tell him or it will hurt his tiny feelings.)

I sold all your underwear while you were at work and bought a hamster with the profit, so you'll have to get used to that tickly feeling. His name is Ed. At least that's what he told me. Hope you don't mind.

Teleportation - it will be the new thing, for sure. I tested my new gizmo on Ed. He's my hamster. Sent him across the room at around 163.7265 miles per hour. Came to a sudden stop during a wall encounter incident, which may indicate a limit to this device's usefulness in urban settings. Plus the mess.

Did you know that the World Bank is run by a small hamster named Ed? Has lots of worlds in it too. Good boy, Ed. (He likes a variety of places to poop.)

Had a nice talk with Irving, over lunch. He's a hamster. Where I get all my financial and vegetable advice.

Clams in a can — I guess they don't mind too much, being clams. Unlike Irving, my hamster — very wary little fellow he is, can-wise.

Fran is pretty happy about what I've done lately, which is to leave her alone. (I have a hamster now. And like her, he bites, but never gets whiny about how I taste.)

That music always reminds me of something, possibly also music, or wet hamsters. I like hamsters. Sometimes they hum when wet. And so on.

First my ant died, and then I saw Mr Hamster doing odd things in the garden by moonlight. He's my landlord. Doesn't say much. Likes to munch nuts.

The last thing I remember before waking up was that I forgot to remove my hamster costume. Clarissa gets over-excited when this happens. I wish I knew who she was.