EIGHT IS MORE THAN ENOUGH!

Field mice can be so inconsiderate! Mr. Badger had caught one of the miscreants happily ensconced in one of his favourite briar pipes (the very expensive Charatan Executive, nota bene!), with her little arms outstretched, squeaking "I am the king of the world!", exactly like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. It was most disturbing! Rodents shed! He had wanted to jam some nice baccy in the bowl, but there were small hairs all over!

Later he caught her and her seven sisters playing among the crockery on the tea trolley, but that was easier to deal with. Just wash everything, dry it, and place a heavy towel over all.

He regretted agreeing to baby sit the little monsters.


When the fuzzy little delinquents were all finally asleep -- they looked deceptively cute and innocent at that time -- he retired to the porch with a stiff drink and a cigar. The cigars had been safe, the lid of his humidor had been far too heavy for them to push open. But they had tried.
He didn't know how their mom put up with them.

Mr. Fieldmouse had taken his good lady out to the opera. 'Il Corsaro', one night only, at the War Memorial on Van Ness. Followed by supper at Jardinière on Grove Street. They wouldn't be back till late. But they had left early, glad to get a break from their hyper-active offspring.

The fieldmice all liked singing; it seemed to be a species-thing. Hence the two parents going to see a show. Lots of good arias in Verdi.
Mr. Badger hated singing. Especially whenever he had to do it.
The youngsters had demanded that he sing to them.

Or. Else. They. Would. NOT. Go. To. Sleep!!!

Badgers are musically un-gifted.

He had assayed 'Kansas City' from the musical 'Oklahoma'. It was the only song he could remember at that moment. It had stuck in his head ever since the Guild performance years ago, with unexpurgated lyrics.
He still chuckled when he thought of it.


They got a big thiyater they call a burlesque,
For fifty cents you can see a dandy show;
One of the gals was fat and pink and pretty,
As round above as she was round below.

I could swear that she was padded,
From her shoulder to her heel.
But later in the second act when she began to peel,
She proved that everything she had was absolutely real;
She went about as far as she could go.
Yes sir!
She went about as far as she could go!


If that had been a female badger, she would have still been covered with fur all over. Lovely, dense, thick, silky, fur.

Yes sir!

Naked apes would be at a distinct disadvantage in the forest. Their skin would end up covered in scrapes and scratches without the natural protection of a fur coat. How on earth did they survive?!?


Dang, this was a good cigar! Perfectly packed, nice draw.

Maybe humans weren't so useless after all.


The fieldmice would have just as delicate a touch as 'people', but rolling tobacco into such a perfect shape required not only lightness so that the leaf did not break, but also judicious pressure, and hand-leverage.
They'd fail on that score.

The modern world was frustrating for small creatures.
Gainful employment was always an issue.

If it hadn't been for the growth in micro-electronics over the past two decades, Mr. Fieldmouse would be virtually unemployable, what with the take-over of America's family farms by agribusiness, and the subsequent switch to rural mechanization.

Mr. Badger wondered what the eight daughters would end up doing. Perhaps they'd go into their father's field. There were any number of computer and internet related companies in San Francisco, heck, the downtown was awash with them, but how long would this last?
The previous boom had gone bust back in 2008.
Before that, business peaked in 2001.
Then tanked.

It did not seem a stable career choice. And they'd have to compete with thousand of other animals for jobs. Small rodents are at an enormous disadvantage in the job market, because they're so hard to notice when they're applying. Even with their paws on the desk, all that's really visible are two bright eyes peering at the interviewer.

Oh well. That was a worry for the future.
At the moment they were all peacefully slumbering. The little cretins had forced him to sing his song five times. They hadn't asked him about the lyrics, they had just squealed in glee every time he missed the notes or lost the tune. Sadistic little imps! That snarky giggling!

But they did look so sweet while sleeping.
All soft brown fur and twitching noses.
Tiny pink paws above the covers.

Such adorable little tykes!

Mr. Badger felt truly avuncular at that moment.

He realized that he would likely say 'yes' if asked to baby sit again.


The tea set and pipes would have to be stashed away on top of the bookcases, or in large Rubbermaid® hampers, beforehand.




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