Well, at Puma's rather testy command (Ping thought she had anger
problems, personally), he climbed down the back tire of the 1020 and
trotted to the cellar door, which was open just a crack.  Open just a
crack is all a ferret needs, and in just a moment he was in, and out with
the stashed keys in his mouth.  They clicked and tinkled as he made the
climb back up that rear tire, and into the tractor's seat to rejoin Puma
and France, the 'Fricken Pigmy Hedgehog, who was of course in a pissy
mood.
 
"All we have to do is turn the key, and we'll go up?," said Puma.
 
"That's right, Dude.  We start in Neutral, then shift into 'Up'."
answered Ping.  Puma slumped forward until her forehead rested on the
steering wheel, closed her eyes, and said in a very small voice, "Don't
call me Dude.  My name is Puma.  As in panther.  As in bite your leg off,
and leave you to bleed to death."  (Again, Master Ho must never know!)
 
Ping is He just looked at her, and decided it was a woman thing, best
not to say any more right now.  France snickered in the background.
 
Puma took a deep breath and seemed to shake it off, and reached for the
keys.  She slotted one, and....turned.  Instant, LOUD, diesel engine
noise!  Shuddering, stuttering, idling that smoothed out after about
twenty seconds....the oily black smell of diesel exhaust!  The great
green beast was awake!  Ping shouted "DUDE!  WE NEED TO LIFT THE BUCKET!"
 
"HOW?" Puma called back, half deafened.  He reached a paw over her and
pulled one of the many levers backward, and with a whine, the hydraulics
engaged, and the heavy iron bucket lifted from the gravel.  An inch, two
inches, a foot, two feet..."GOOD TO GO!", yelled Ping.  He reached out
that same paw, and slipped the gearshift from 'N', Neutral, into "U',
for 'Up', and the tractor began to lift from the gravel....an inch....
two inches...a foot....two feet....five feet....ten feet...they came
level with the second story windows, with the roof of the house, with
the tops of the trees, until finally, they were above all of that.  The
noise from the engine wasn't bouncing off of the ground anymore, so it
got a lot quieter, too.
 
"Where?", said Puma.  "You want to steer left", said Ping, slipping into
a forward gear, "and follow the state highway south when you see it.
It'll take us right into Worcester, then into Shrewsbury." (For those
who don't know, Worcester, pronounced Wuss-ter, is the second largest
city in Massachusetts.  It's about an hour west of Boston.  It has a
toilet museum, open by appointment only.  The birth control pill and
the monkey wrench were invented there.)
 
The three surveyed the vista of little homes nestled in pine woods,
surrounding the lake.  The tell tale blue glow of TV sets was apparent
nearly everywhere.  Car headlights streaked by beneath them.  They
could see the silhouette of nearby Mount Wachusett on the horizon.
"It's beautiful.", said Ping.  "Not as 'utyfuulll asss La Belle France,
of courssse...despite the indescriminate bombing of the Alliess,"
lectured the 'Fricken Pigmy Hedgehog.
 
"Oh, shut up, Hedgehog," snapped Puma, Master Ho completely forgotten.
"If it weren't for the 'indiscriminate bombing of the Allies' you'd be
complaining in German!"
 
"Uh, yeah, Dude!" piped up Ping, completely baffled, "German!"
 
Hissing, the Hedgehog retreated to the rear of the seat, but not before
snapping at Puma, who, being a ferret, evaded the little teeth easily.
 
Puma found the highway, and made the turn.  The road ran like a ribbon
beneath them, straight as an arrow.  The green iron beast flew through
the night, headed south.
 
Next stop, the Ecotarium, in Shrewsbury.  That's where the otters lived.
Ping and Puma wanted to check up on them.  (France, well, they had to
agree to take France or the hoomin said she wouldn't leave and fuel in
the tractors.  It sucked, but there it was.  )
 
End Part Two
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 4945]