Thursday, June 25, 2020

DO NOT EAT THE HAMSTER!

The other day, when I returned from my early morning smoke, the turkey vulture was on my bed being clobbered by the control monkey (Mr. Oyster), who has taken a scunner to him like you wouldn't believe. The control monkey used to be a far mellower creature, having patiently tolerated the folks in Marketing Department for twelve years.
Which took some doing.

When the Marketing Department packed up their stuff to move it to the building in Fremont, they entirely forgot about so valued a staff member, proving once more that they weren't meant for work in a Toy Company.
So I put him on top of the furniture I was wheeling to the freight elevator, where he performed the task of pilot most excellently.
Hence his title: Control Monkey.

That was several years ago. Since then he has been disappointed in love, and is somewhat frustrated and bitter. His best years are slipping away. Hence his violent tendencies vis-à-vis Sydney Fylbert (the bright-eyed turkey vulture I brought home in December). Who, despite his evil instincts and conviction that the imaginary little girl hamster is food ("meat ball") is actually a very nice fellow, and loves affection.


Everyone should hug a turkey vulture at least once a day.
It teaches them how to bond with others.
Non-carrion eaters.

THE BRIGHT-EYED TURKEY VULTURE

As you can see, Sydney has a hope-filled and optimistic expression on his face. "Surely", he is thinking, "one of these creatures will die soon?"

And then he will feast!


Two worrying things about him, though. He has the idea of lulling the little girl hamster to sleep by reading her bed time stories (about Elizabeth Báthory, a beautiful princes in a far-away land), and he himself is convinced that he is a poor little orphan girl in the snow, selling matches to survive.


"Please, sir, won't you buy my lucifers?"


The bed time stories horrify us and would probably scare the bejazus out of the imaginary little girl hamster, and that little orphan matchgirl fantasy is just peculiar. Gender-bent, in any case.

Yes, that is one of my socks he's wearing around his neck.
For warmth. In the snow. It is a very clean sock.

He's quite a cute little fellow.
Don't you agree?



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