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From:
sargentcolburn <[log in to unmask]>
Date:
Sun, 2 May 2004 18:16:53 -0400
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Dear Ferret Folks-
As our scene opens it is night in the Sargent-Colburn household.  The
refrigerator hums softly in the still background.  The dog snores gently
in her velvety green armchair in the living room.
 
But there is furious activity in the computer room, right in front of the
monitor.  Switch the Kit and Hurricane Lily are both scrolling through
the e-mail, chatting happily with one another in a language of quiet
touches and smells.  Suddenly, this activity stops.  I mean it STOPS (!)
 
What is this?  There is something on the monitor that has both ladies
sitting up straight and tall.  A small gasp is heard from both.  And here
is what they see...
 
WOlfy writes:
>I hear that Petey the Pooped on has a tat of naked ferret on his
>forearm and that Switch the Kit has a John Deere tatoo on her butt.
 
Well.  Switch's whiskers quiver in indignation and anger.  Her entire
tail bottle brushes up so full that it wouldn't *fit* in a bottle
anymore.  She turns around slowly to view us, her audience, and glares.
She sits back on her haunches, judges the necessary distance, and jumps
into the armchair, then onto the floor.  She scurries back to the ferret
room plexiglass barrier and leaps it.  She is seen no more that night.
 
Leaving Lily alone in front of the monitor.
 
Lily erases the offending message with the touch of her paw on the
keyboard.  "Delete." Then she looks back at us over her shoulder in a
measuring way, and stands up like a little person.  She looks around.
Looks left, looks right.  Her paws fumble about at her midsection.
Miraculously, (who knew?) she lifts the shirt of her two piece fur suit
a few inches, to reveal the pale pink ferret belley underneath.  There is
a brief, painful wink of light from her midsection.  She turns a little,
and we realize that it is the glare of light reflecting off of her shiny
navel piercing.
 
She grins hugely, says "Hee-hee!", drops her shirt, and jumps down into
the armchair and out of our sight for the rest of the night.
 
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 4502]

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