Cry Of The Werehamster: The Next Part

[See "Cry Of The Werehamster: The First Part" for the first part of this story. -- The Management]

For Galaxy Moonbeam


At long last the Autumn sun began to drop behind the trees and Frank the gray squirrel and his squirrel buddies knocked off work and headed back to their respective nests, ribbing each other good-naturedly as they departed the nut yard:

"Hey Frank, good luck on your date with Doris tonight! Remember what they say -- she has ten nipples and you only have two forepaws, eight of those nipples are going to be wasted!" gleefully cackled Al.

"Oi, Frank, think about baseball at the moment of truth and maybe you'll last more than 15 seconds this time!" yelled Seamus.

"Hey you guys, cut it out, Doris is a nice squirrel, that's why I have to get her drunk first, remember?" retorted Frank as he scampered towards home. He thought he heard someone shout "Rectum? I thought I killed 'em!" in the distance and chortled to himself as he reflected that the classics never get stale.

When Frank reached his arboreal home he began grooming himself for his big date with Doris. He was somewhat apprehensive about asking her to marry him since it was their first date and they had never really had a conversation before but Frank felt convinced that it was time to take their relationship to the next level. He knew that Doris wasn't exactly a prime catch with her slightly-crossed eyes and missing ear and all, but he found the gap between her buck teeth erotic and besides no other female squirrel in the neighborhood would date him since the Amber incident. Thus, Frank found himself contentedly humming "Let's Do It (Let's Fall In Love)" as he readied himself for his big evening. He was certain that nothing could possibly happen to screw things up this time.

But as he was thinking this, for some reason Frank seemed to hear the querulous voice of the colorful and charmingly eccentric old squirrel who had hawked a gobbet of phlegm upon him earlier in the day:

Not all round and hard things are walnuts
Not every small brown thing's a seed
Take care on the night of the full moon
Lest the werehamster's bite makes you bleed
A lot from a ripped throat

Frank still had no idea what any of that meant, but it gave him a sudden chill to recall the old squirrel's ominous and ill-rhymed words. He also noticed that as night was falling a thick fog was congealing and that the people in the house nearby were playing gypsy violin music and that the scent of late-blooming hamsterbane was redolent in the air. However, being a singularly dim and unimaginative squirrel he simply shrugged it all off and resumed grooming himself and humming Cole Porter show tunes.

***

Doris had come to realize long ago that she was neither the most attractive nor the most intelligent of squirrels, but she knew what she wanted and she wanted a man, or more precisely a male squirrel. Frank might not have been her first choice -- actually, he was her last choice after the Amber incident -- but he was male and he was nearby so she was ready to snatch him up at the drop of a nut. Besides, she had always been a sucker for a fluffy tail on a squirrel and Frank's tail was at least fluffy if not overly large.

Doris spent a goodly amount of time cleaning her remaining ear and polishing her claws. She also tried to do something to camouflage the unsightly black dots on her fur that had given her the nickname "Ink Sqrrrrrl" but to no avail. Finally, after much pointless primping and grooming, she was slutted up and ready to cocktease any male that came with range of her overactive scent glands. She was just about to leave the squirrel equivalent of a double-wide trailer that she called a nest and walk down the block to Frank's tree when she noticed the thick soupy fog that begun to creep in on big lion feet.

"Uh oh," she said to herself with a shudder. "No telling what kind of perverts are going to be out on a night like this. I better take along my rape whistle and this pointy silver sewing needle I found recently. Although come to think of it, maybe I'll leave the rape whistle at home since it doesn't seem to work. I've blown it a thousand times and still no one shows up to rape me."

"Hey, Destiny!" screeched Doris at her equally trampy friend in the next tree over. "It's a creepy night tonight! Why don't you meet me in the yard and walk with me over to Frank's place! A cute female squirrel's not safe walking alone on a night like this and neither am I!"

"Shee-it, girl! I'm just crimping my tail!" yelled Destiny. "I was going to stay at home tonight and try to make a pushup bra out of ten acorn shells and some string but I suppose I can walk with you at least part of the way. Give me a couple minutes and I'll meet you by the late-blooming hamsterbane."

"Great honey, I'll wait for you there!" shrieked Doris.

And so the plain but plucky Doris set off into the foggy night dreaming of marriage and chocolate.

But as she was leaving the safety and shelter of her slatternly home the fog parted and the lambent full moon savagely shone in the night sky and she heard a strangely eerie and haunting cry somewhere off in the distance:

"Ek ek ek ek ek!"

She shivered and clutched the shawl that had not been there a second ago more closely about her shoulders and grimly set off for her rendezvous with Destiny.

[Look for "Cry Of The Werehamster: The Last Part" coming soon to a blog near you. -- The Management]

-- Hulles