When we left off yesterday...It was a springtime night in New England.
The air was sweet, and soft against your cheek.  Look up, and you could
see the lacy silhouette of maple flowers against a full moon.  In the
distance, you could hear those tiny frogs with the mighty voices, the
Spring Peepers, singing their songs of love in the gritty, cold mud.
 
Ping is He, perched up in the 1947 John Deere Model B's seat with the now
robed Miss Lily, could only look upon the curiously bulging dark blue ski
mask that the hoomin had foisted off on them with horror and disgust.  It
could be heard to be complaining (in a very muffled fashion)"I 'ate
youuuu...I 'ate hoomins...I 'ate tractors..."
 
THE 'FRICKEN PIGMY HEDGEHOG!!!  What next?
 
The hoomin, clad in her long flannel nightgown, hastily buttoned wool
sweater, and Birkenstock sandals said "I'll get your stuff.  It will
save you time."  With that she bent, and began to gather up the can of
ether,and the small tin of Marvel Mystery Oil.  She fed the fresh tube
of grease into the grease gun and gave it a few experimental pumps.  She
packed most of this gear into the B's little toolbox, and hung the grease
gun off of the back of the seat.
 
With that done, she stood with crossed arms to regard the three occupants
of the seat, two of which were still trying VERY hard to look like dumb
animals.  The third simply continued to curse.  She said "I suppose you
want me to start it, too."
 
The small robed female ferret, once again enunciating clearly, said
merely "dook dook dook!"
 
"So that's the way you want to play it," said the hoomin.  "Listen.  Just
don't make the papers, and remember that gas is up over $2.00 a gallon."
With that she turned, and vanished into the night.  The crunch of her
sandals on the gravel could be heard receding into the shadows, until
finally there was no sound, save for the muffled cursing of the 'Fricken
Pigmy Hedgehog nestled inside of the dark blue ski mask, and the peepers.
The cursing suddenly increased as Ping directed a well-aimed kick in
France's general direction, and Miss Lily immediately hissed a deadly
"HEEEEEE!!", and even the spring peepers fell silent in the night around
them.  (....)
 
Miss Lily dropped her head, and quietly gave Ping is He a set of
instructions, which he hurried to obey.  The choke rod was pulled out
with one mighty heave of his strong, young back.  Miss Lily slipped the
gearshift into neutral, and Ping gave a mighty pogo-stick leap into the
air, which caused him to come down hard on the starter button!
 
Rrr-Rrr-Rrr sput-SPUT SPUT SPUT PUTT-PUTT!  PUTT-PUTT!  CHUG
CHUGCHUGCHUGCHUGCHUGCHUGCHUGCHUG!!!
 
The noise, the smoke, the vibration,(The hoomin KNEW!!) Ping is He wasn't
sure just what to be freaked out over first,there were so many things to
choose from!  Miss Lily looked completely in charge,standing on her back
feet, two soft gray paws draped over the lower curve of the steering
wheel.  France had simply curled up into the ski mask even more tightly
than before.  Ping looked down at the gearshift, this was only neutral!
What would being IN GEAR be like?
 
Wait a minute...N,R,1,2,3,4,5, and 6...six forward gears, ...so what
was that shiny flash?  Down between N and R?  It looked like a...U.
Scratched into the green paint with a nail or something sharp.  U?  What
gear is U?  He looked over at Miss Lily questioningly at just that moment
as she scrambled down and brought the gearshift right to that shiny, new
'U' scraped into the paint.  She looked up at him for just an instant,
swaddled in her blankie square and smiled, hugely!
 
More Tomorrow
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 4862]