Okay, this was rejected the first time because it was too long, so here
we go again.
 
(Paul, atop his mountain retreat, focuses his binoculars on the tsiL
gniliaM terreF -)
 
What the -?  Oh, I had the silly thing backwards!
 
(Paul, atop his mountain retreat, focuses his binoculars on the Ferret
Mailing List.)
 
Aha, an important event - Murphy!  Sammy!  Max!  Front and center!
 
(Three ferrets - Murphy, a handsome Sable in the red serge uniform of
the RCMP; Sammy, a Dark-Eyed White wearing a yarmulke; and Max, another
handsome Sable with his hind legs strapped into a wheelchair - come
running and rolling up.)
 
Murphy: Present and accounted for, sir!  Oh, the FML!  Am I guessing that
there's a birthday to celebrate?
 
Paul: Yep! Is the cannon in shape for a firing?
 
Max: Yessir!  Skippy, Skippy, Skippy, Skippy and Skippy did a quick
once-over the other day, and Skippy, the head mechanic, pronounced
her fit for firing.  He'd like to take some down time for a thorough
maintenance, but for now it's good.
 
Paul: Fine.  You didn't mention Skippy - is he back from Utah yet?  How
did he do in the Winter Olympics?  Did he take part in the Closing
Ceremonies Sunday?
 
Murphy: Overall, he did well in the events.  A Gold Medal in Cannon
Firing, A Silver in the 100-yard Snow Angel, and another Gold in the
500-yard Snow Tunneling.
 
Sammy: He was at the Closing Ceremonies, sir, but not as an active
participant.  He'd made a suggestion to the Committee for some
entertainment, but they didn't see the value in an all-kazoo band playing
the Osmond's greatest hits.  They went with some old rock band in silly
makeup instead.  He did go out and celebrate later by downing a lot of
Ferretone cocktails at the nearest bar.
 
Max: He flew in yesterday evening on his private Learjet.  There he is
now!
 
(An Albino ferret staggers forward, massaging his head with his paws.
His face is a greenish color and his eyes are even redder than usual.)
 
Skippy (groaning):  Aaarrrgghh, sir.
 
Paul: Skippy?!
 
Skippy (clutching head): Please - not so loud, sir!
 
Paul (more softly): Ah. Still got a bad hangover, huh?
 
Murphy: He was much worse when he got in, sir.  The upholstery on his Lear
is gonna need cleaning something bad.
 
Paul: Oh, dear... Well, congratulations on your Silver and Gold medals,
Skippy!
 
Skippy: Thank you, sir.  (Clutches head.  Temples are visibly throbbing
like in an old Warner Brothers cartoon.) Could someone do me a favor and
stop the world from turning?
 
Paul: We'll have to see about that later.  Right now we've got a birthday
to celebrate.  Ah, here comes the Cannon.
 
(Skippy, Skippy, Skippy, Skippy and Skippy - members of the crack team of
Albino ferret mechanics - push a vintage Civil War cannon forward.  Skippy
stares at it with his bloodshot eyes, then falls to the ground and covers
his aching head.)
 
Skippy: Oh, no - not *that*!  *PLEASE* not that!  My head's ready to
fall of as it is!  Give me time to get far enough away from the noise -
International Falls, maybe!  Or else just kill me now and save some time!
Ooooh, my poor noggin!
 
Sammy: Calm down, Skippy.  It's being taken care of, see?  (A couple of
Skippys attach a cylindrical object to the cannon's muzzle.) See?  They're
putting the silencer on.
 
Paul: Okay, are we all set? Ready... aim... FIRE!
 
-poof-
 
Max: That is a *very* good silencer.
 
Skippy: Thanks, guys. Ooh, this ground feels so
comfortable.
 
*WHOOOOOSSSHHH!!!*
 
(Charge explodes in midair, showering the Ferret Mailing List with
confetti, balloons, streamers, M&Ms (Plain, Peanut, Ferretone, Alfalfa,
Twinkie Weiner, Green Chili, and all the popular flavors), various other
goodies, and one packet of Alka-Seltzer.  Two banners float down beneath
parachutes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WOLFY!!  and MODERATION IN ALL THINGS,
ESPECIALLY FERRETONE COCKTAILS!  Murphy, Sammy and the most of the Skippys
present do a soft-shoe routine, while Max plays some riffs on an air
guitar.  Skippy raises up and manages a sickly smile and a wave of his
paw; he then reaches for the Alka-Seltzer.)
 
Hope you had a great birthday, Wolfy!
 
=====
Paul E. Jamison
 
--
 
"There's more pressure on a vet to get it right.  People say 'it was God's
will' when granny dies, but they get *angry* when they lose a cow."
- Terry Pratchett
[Posted in FML issue 3707]