It was a miserable, cold, grey morning in central Massachusetts. Tiny
nuggets of ice rained from the sky with cutting force. Nothing moved
outside that didn't have to. Cars and large objects were slowly buried
beneath lumpy, obscuring blankets of dull sleet.

It was ugly, ugly.

But some things were uglier still.

Two small ferrets scurried from beneath the Sargent-Colburn house (how
did they get there? Did they teleport? Use the "turn into smoke and
sink down and through the floorboards" trick? We will never know.) and
ran for the nearest hemlock trees at the edge of the forest. They left
behind tiny tracks in the sleet that looked remarkably like cuneiform
writing, as if they were making some bold statement in ancient
Babylonian.

The little ferrets, one an albino who looked yellow against the icy
ground cover, and one dark and lushly furred with a big, happy Buddah
belly squatted on the ground beneath the dark evergreen boughs and took
a moment to catch their breath, breath that steamed from their snouts
and curled away into the morning's gloom.

The albino turned his pink-eyed gaze to his stout companion and said
"Todd...I don't know if we can do this. Maybe we shouldn't. We might
get in trouble."

The dark ferret settled the bulk of his belly more comfortably beneath
him and replied "We can do this, Hebert. It's a sacred trust passed
down to us by the great ones...Don't and Sabrina the Bat Biter, Switch
the Eternal Kit and Miss Lily. And from them to Ping is He, and
Princess Puma the Toe Biter. We *have* to do this. We *will* do this.
An FML that awful must be buried"

Hebert hung his head miserably and closed his eyes. He was afraid,
dearly afraid. He took a deep breath and said in a very small voice
"But Todd...this is a big thing and you know I can't do big
things...I'm...stupid."

Todd's gaze flashed over to his friend's miserable countenance and he
said, with considerable heat "Stop that! You are not stupid. We're not
even six months old, and we're both growing into our paws. We both have
a lot to learn, yet. But we can *do* this, Hebert. We have to. You need
to pull yourself together, Bud. I *need* your help with this. Come on.
'Gobbilie-gook, clap-trap, obfucation' and African pubic hair? It's
gotta go. "

Hebert lifted his sad pink eyes from the cold ground beneath him and he
looked into Todd's dark eyes, shining in the gloom. "Really?" Hebert
said in a small voice.

"Yes, Hebert. I need you. We are a team, and we will do this thing,
and we will make the great ones proud."

Hebert released a deep breath and said simply "OK. It's on."

At that, the two ferrets broke cover and headed through the sleet to
the deepest, farthest away part of the back yard, behind the garden
and to the wood lot, where the He-Hoomin cut and stacked timber for
the house's wood stove. Between the towering piles of stove lengths
and the clutter of half-buried tools and assorted things that the two
ferrets couldn't even identify (things that the He-Hoomin SWORE to the
She-Hoomin that he would bring in under cover before the snow fell)
stood the 1966 John Deere 1020 tractor. It stood green and muscular,
its powerful lines obscured by a blanket of sleet and hundreds of small
icicles hanging down from its belly like the shaggy coat of a great,
silent beast.

The dark ferret said to the albino "Ether. We have to find the can of
ether." The two sniffed along the ground beside the great green beast
in ever widening circles until the albino squeaked simply "Gaah!" then
he promptly sneezed three times and shook his head violently as if he
had ants up his nose. He said again, "Gaah!"

"You found it!" said the stocky dark ferret.

"It smells HORRIBLE! Horrible horrible horrible!" wailed the albino.

"Yes, Hebert, but we need it," explained his companion. "YOW! The can
is cold, too!"

"Where is the dog?" asked the albino.

At just that moment the back door opened then slapped closed, and the
dog, the Noble Allis Chompers galloped across the yard to the tractor.
In her mouth she carried several sheets of white computer paper,
tightly folded up. She reached the ferrets and spat the paper out onto
the ground, one troublesome sheet sticking to her tongue and requiring
her to paw at it to break it free to fall to the ground with the
others.

"Good lord!," huffed the dog. "That was ripe!"

"We know," the two ferrets said in unison.

"Phew!" sniffed the dog, who promptly thumped down on top of the papers
and began to roll on her back, legs waving in the air. Todd and Hebert
looked at one another, silently. The habits of dogs were difficult to
understand. Allis rolled on top of reeking roadkill when she could.
Just why remained a mystery to them, and Allis didn't discuss it. "Did
you find the ether yet?" she asked.

"Yes" chorused the two ferrets.

"Then up you go," said the dog, who had regained her feet with a
wheeze. She was no longer young.

First the stocky dark ferret with the large belly, then the albino
scurried up one of the enormous rear wheels, and up to the driver's
seat. The albino got stuck halfway up, but at the touch of the dog's
cold wet nose pushing at him from behind he virtually flew up the rest
of the way. The dog kindly handed up the can of ether in her mouth.

After that, it was a relatively simple matter to turn the engine over
with a judiciously timed puff of ether to jump start the process. The
He-Hoomin had conveniently left the key slotted into the ignition, and
the battery held a good charge. With the first few mighty chuffs of the
engine, the icicles all fell to the ground and black, oily smoke began
to pour from the smokestack. A little practice with the hydraulics
controlling the blade, and then the tractor slowly turned to the edge
of the swamp, where the ground was soft and never froze completely. A
few false starts, and a good-sized hole was dug. With the assistance of
shouted commands from the dog, the pages of yesterdays FML were buried
deep beside the roots of the high bush blueberry and the swamp maples.

The torch had been passed from one generation to the next.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6207]