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]