Sorry for the delay.  Believe I had a case of food poisoning, but I'm
feeling much better, now.  Thank you for all the nice e-cards and
messages!  A-
 
************************************************************************
 
It was the fullest, richest part of the summer in New England.  The
afternoon shadows were lengthening, the blackberries were deep purple
and plump on the cane, and the soft breezes sifted the yellow powder from
the fuzzy yellow goldenrod blossoms.  The bees were starting to show some
wear and tear, and the occasional "plonk!" of a shiny new acorn could be
heard beneath the oaks.  It was the end of August, and the hoomins packed
up their suitcases, and left the house for their annual vacation.  The
dog, the Noble Allis Chompers was dropped off to spend the time with
local family.  Arrangements were made with the nice girl down the street
to check in on Ping and Puma, and France, the Fricken' Pygmy Hedgehog
every day.  The hoomins would be gone for ten days.  But while they were
gone, someone was coming over for an extended stay in the country...the
Otters.
 
When we left off...Puma had been inventorying the contents of the
two-handled plastic bag that the otters had brought with them from the
Ecotarium, in Worcester.  While she found the 'Marshmallows' to have an
intriguing smell, there was nothing else in there that interested her.
Not 'Hershey Bars', 'Graham Crackers', 'Sardines', or (shudder!) 'Smoked
Oysters Packed in Oil.' Nope.  Didn't interest her a bit.  While she
enjoyed the occasional raisin, she was basically an old-fashioned chow
girl, unlike Ping, who would try *anything* once.  Sometimes twice.
Especially if it could be dragged beneath the sofa in the guest room,
and....aged.
 
Just as Puma crawled out of the bag, a thin voice, sort of like an
iron nail being dragged across a pane of glass interrupted the happy
conversation Ping was having with the otters.  It called from another
room "EY!  An' what abouuut meee, you, you gian' weasel freakss?  You
goin' to let mee ouuut, too, or you goin' stan' around chatting with
Bone Head iss Heee?"
 
"*Bite* me, France!" yelled Ping, his usually sunny face darkening.
 
"Mais oui! come let mee ouuut, I'll do dat!" she yelled back.
 
"Oh, please, please!  None of that bickering" said the First Otter,
shaking his paw in France's direction.  "No," said the Second.  "You
were quite disagreeable the last time we came for a visit.  I haven't
forgotten that you hid the bathtub plug so that we were forced to be dry
for *days!*" He closed his eyes and shuddered from the memory.
 
"Lemme OUT, tetes du merde!"
 
The Second otter crossed his arms in front of his chest and said to Ping
and Puma "I truly don't understand how you manage to share a home with
that creature."
 
"Well..." considered Ping.  "We're kinda used to her." "Must we free
her?"asked the First otter.  "She is *highly* disagreeable."
 
Ping looked at Puma, and Puma looked at Ping.  As tempting as it was to
just leave her in her habitat bin...Puma said "It just wouldn't be right
to leave her in there.  She's nocturnal, you know, and she can yell all
night.  She's done it before." Just the memory was enough to make Puma
considering running away into a dark corner and taking a little time to
check on the status of her center.  Master Wu said that she needed to
balance herself many times throughout the day, not just when she was in
emotional turmoil.
 
"Hmmph!" said the First otter.  "Very well.  But I'm not going to *touch*
her!"
 
"You don't need to," said Ping.  With that he loped into the hoomin's
bedroom and took the corner of a clean cotton t-shirt in his mouth, and
began to drag it to France's habitat on the guest room floor.  He stood
up against the edge of the plastic bin and draped the t-shirt over the
bin wall.  Now France's little claws could get traction, and she could
climb up and over freely.  "There!" he said.  "You're good to go."
 
"Youuu took your time, weasel, you took your tiiiiime..." France huffed
as she began to climb up the shirt.  Ping rolled his eyes and loped away,
muttering "Whatever!" beneath his breath.
 
"Well,"said the First otter, rubbing his paws together briskly, "on a
happier note, let us return our attention to the Provisions!"
 
"Yes!," said the Second.  "We wish to prepare a splendid feast for our
little cousins!"
 
"Yes," said the First Otter.  "Let us gather sticks and find the
matches!"
 
"*Matches?*" said Ping?  "Umm...Puma and I don't play with matches.
They, like, start forest fires."
 
At that both otters only grinned....
 
End Part Three
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 5366]