So there they were--two ferrets, two otters, gathered together atop the
sledding hill behind the Elementary School in the cold, cold New England
night.  Puma glaring daggers at Ping, Ping rolling his eyes at Puma, the
First and Second otters standing upright and smoothing down their belly
fur in preparation for throwing themselves down the hill once again, as
living sleds for the much smaller ferrets to ride.
 
And a faint sound came up from the bottom of the hill with the breeze...
just a tiny scrap of a voice, but all heads turned towards it, four sets
of whiskers perked up and eight ears swiveled around to hear...."  I am
cooooold, an' I 'aaaate youuu!" It was France.  France?  Yes, France.
Ping called down to her "Where are you?" The Pygmy Hedgehog was so small
that she was entirely lost in the vastness of the night.
 
"Oh," said the Second otter in his deep, rich voice "I will get her.  She
must be terribly cold!"  And with that he threw himself face first down
the hill, and disappeared into the darkness with a whooped
"Deliiiiiiiightful!" and his flat tail slapping the snow like a rudder.
 
The second turned and said to the ferrets "Little Cousins, does that
tiny porcupine *have* any fur?"
 
"Not much, " said Puma.  "Very short white fur on her face and legs and
belly, hollow quills on top.  Her tail doesn't have any fur at all."
 
"France has a tail?" asked Ping.
 
"A little pink stubby one," answered Puma.
 
"Get outta town!" exclaimed Ping.  "I've never seen her *tail*!"
 
"Well, it's not the most attractive thing," said Puma.
 
"Does she feel pressed to hide it?" asked the First otter.
 
"I don't think so, " said Puma.  "It's just really little."
 
"Dude!" marveled Ping.
 
At that point the Second otter loped up the last bit of the hill to the
three standing and waiting for his return.  In his mouth, he carried a
small, angry hedgehog.  He placed her gently on the snow at everyone's
feet, and she immediately began to spike up and curse, and curse, and
curse some more in a language that none of the weasels, large or small,
could understand, although they did understand the *spirit* of the
message well enough.  Every third or fourth word flung out of her mouth
like a tiny silver dagger was clearly 'ferret.'  Finally, her anger was
such that she could no longer express herself verbally.  She balled
herself up like a fist and lay there in the snow, a spiky, quivering,
hissing hate-potato of pure rage.
 
"Dude!" marveled Ping, once again.  He said "France, can I, um... see
your tail?"
 
At that point the hedgie ball of spikes bounced in place and hissed like
a rattlesnake on acid in reply.
 
"Please?" asked Ping.
 
"Oh, SHUT UP PING, you're making her worse!" enunciated Puma through
clenched fangs.  "You are SUCH a bonehead!"
 
"Am not!" whined Ping.  "I just wanna see her *tail*."
 
"Little Cousins, Little Cousins," said the First otter, "don't be cross
with one another.  Perhaps if we are very still and quiet the tiny
porcupine will unroll herself."
 
"She's a *hedgehog*, not a porcupine," said Ping in his best imitation
of an educated tone.  Then he ruined the effect by blowing a loud, wet
raspberry at Puma, who visibly winced in reaction, and wiped her
whiskers dry with one fisted paw.
 
And just then, the ball began to unball.  One tiny pink clawed foot
appeared, then a second, a tiny face with a black wet nose.  Then with
a heave, she unballed completely, shifted her weight to her feet, and
began to speak.....
 
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 5118]