Dear Ferret Folks-

(Grinding teeth....)

Yesterday, I read in the FML:

>I don't mind reading about a suggestion, but I do mind reading about
>someone trying to force their way of thinking on another person about
>their way of feeding their furkids.
>

I, too, wish to register a protest. That Australian menace has finally
gone too far, brutally *forcing* me to accept her worldview. Reading
her words posted in the FML the other day, the clever computer virus
that she, and her evil co-horts had cooked up crawled into my eyeballs,
and seemingly, trapped in a waking nightmare, I was helplessly forced
to commit acts which still trouble and shame me. I can only recall my
actions, and weep.

My trembling hand, seemingly of its own accord, reached out to the
kibble bag, and knocked it to the floor, where its unholy contents were
spilled onto the floor, and quickly consumed by my dog, the noble Allis
Chompers lest any ferrets were polluted by the little brown X's. I fell
to my knees, sobbing and terrified. WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME? It only
got worse.

Mumbling "Rawmeaty bones...rawmeatybones...rawmeatybones" beneath my
breath, I crawled, much against my will to the refrigerator, and pried
the door open. Now, sobbing in terror, the tense scene backlight only
by the light from the now seemingly sinister home appliance, I began to
scrabble through the meat drawer until I found the roasting chicken
that I was thawing for dinner. My hands, with a will of their own that
I could not hope to deflect, formed into claws, and began to slash at
the thick plastic encasing the bird. Pink juice splattered everywhere.
(Insert noise from "Psycho" here. Reet! Reet! Reet! Reet!) I ripped the
last of the wrapper away, and with a strangled sob, began to twist the
pale, cold wings from the bird. The first came away with a meaty,
ripping POP! The second yielded more readily to my frenzied
ministrations. I stuffed one wing between my chattering teeth to still
them, and, crawling with the other clenched in my left fist, began to
crawl over to the ferret cage.

Ping and Puma awaited me there, their beady eyes four little flecks of
flame in the gloom. Ping looked at me and sneered, his furry little lip
curled up in a hate-filled mockery of the one, the only King of Rock
and Roll, and whispered...."Shirley Hewitt says hello, hoomin!"

I screamed. Yes, screamed, the wing falling from my mouth onto the
hardwood floor, and I fought with every fiber of my being to keep from
crawling any closer to that cage, those weasels from Hell, but it was
hopeless...hopeless. I scrabbled over, my tears raining on the floor,
and began to push one wing, then the other, through the cage bars.

The gnawing sounds were unspeakable, I will never be able to purge my
memory of them. I collapsed on the floor. At last, the ordeal was over.

Shirley had won.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 5412]