Dear Ferret Folks-

I've seen Vaccination Wars, and Association Wars before. But now we
seem to be having *both*, with Anonymous rebutting his or her own
Anonymous posts! By the time Anonymous raises his or her tiny, ugly
head I know we're in for trench warfare. Dig in, folks. In the spirit
of "And now for something COMPLETELY different" (Monty Python
reference) let's have something COMPLETELY different!

*While* I was reading the Vaccination/Association War posts this
morning I heard a strange noise. It was a dragging noise. It started
at the far end of the house and got closer and closer and closer. It
also sped up. This is a sure sign that SOMEONE is dragging something he
shouldn't have, and he *knows* it. The increase in velocity is due to
the fact that SOMEONE knows that I am in the computer room, directly
between SOMEONE and the Mother of All Stash Spots, the space under the
yellow sofa. All the very best contraband winds up beneath the yellow
sofa if at all possible. My Crocs. Chicken bones. Stolen squeakies. The
good stuff.

I turned in the computer chair, ready to confiscate whatever it is.
It is usually Todd dragging something in a plastic bag, generally my
husband's loaf of bread that was (foolishly) left out on the kitchen
island. Todd will drag anything in a plastic bag. Mismatched socket
sets. White corn tortillas. My nephew's toy dinosaur collection.
Whatever. It just needs to be in a plastic bag. He will drag plastic
bags full of plastic bags. The boy has a fetish.

Well, I turned, and what I saw froze me. I did not get up from my chair
to intercept it, or get involved in any way. It was just too *weird."
Even for my household. Todd was not doing the dragging, he was *being
dragged*. Caff-Pow had him by the scruff and was dragging him at a
pretty good clip. Todd lay unresisting in the much larger Caff-Pow's
fang grip. Todd was dragging a burden of his own, something way too
good to let go of, even for the abject humiliation of being dragged
like a little helpless kit. It was a cardboard box. I recognized the
box immediately. Many of you out there (and you know who you are) would
have recognized that box. It is about as long as a paperback, but not
as wide or as thick. (Thank GOD! Thank GOD they're not that big in the
store!)

This is what was printed on the thin cardboard box:

Lindt Excellence, 85% Cocoa, Extra Dark. Full-bodied cocoa flavor NET
WT 3.5 OZ (100g).

It and Todd and Caff-Pow disappeared beneath the little skirt at the
base of the yellow sofa.

Now, I happened to know that the box was *empty*. I have a fetish of my
own, I don't deny it. I've never tried smoking cocoa in a crack pipe,
but I fully admit that the idea is intriguing. And not yet illegal in
Massachusetts, as many things are. Fireworks. Unregistered guns. Whole
ferrets. (Reportedly, I haven't checked.) Swimming in any part of
Boston's public water-supply watershed. (I've done it, and peed, too.
Take that, flat-landers!) And other dangerous things. I emptied that
thin cardboard box myself, put the contents in a plastic zip-loc and
stored it in the freezer. I like my extra dark chocolate to *snnnnap!*
when I bite down on it. Nothing else starts my day like that *Snnnnap!*
I don't need a large amount, but, I neeeed some! The darker the better.
Think chocolate asphalt.

I watched as Caff-Pow stashed Todd and the box. It's very quiet under
there, now. It's been quiet for a few minutes, except for a short burst
of Caff-Pow's " I'm really excited!" panting. I don't know what had
him excited. The fact that he had successfully stashed Todd, or the
fact that he is much bigger and stronger than Todd and had successfully
muscled the box away from him. I imagine Caff-Pow with his whole
enormous head jammed into the opening, so that he's wearing the box
like a party hat.

I do not know. But it is fun to speculate. And eventually, I will stick
my arm under the sofa and sweep for contraband. But not too soon. The
boys got that box fair and square. Let them have their moment.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6393]