I am beginning to understand Captain Ahab, (notice that my name is only two letter off when compared to his? Coincidence?) and his maniacal obsession with catching Moby Dick. My daughter’s hamster, Fuzzy, escaped from his cage, largely…okay entirely, due to my not watching the little bugger while it somehow got out of the little plastic ball he runs around in while I clean his cage. So I now find myself tracking him down and recapturing him, not entirely unlike Javert in Les Miserable, and don’t worry I’m not going to sing about it. For now? I hunt.
I tracked him across the sea, as he somehow donned a disguise and gained entry to a sailing vessel. I followed him and docked at Casablanca, where I was disappointed to not see Café Americana from the movie. There were, however, tons of people willing to sell me fake merchandise, which is nice. Leaving Morocco, I met up with several mercenary groups that were only too eager to join me when I told them my prey was a hamster, for hamsters are feared and dreaded in northern Africa. We travelled east into Algeria, where I heard he had hooked up with a local hamster and conducted a string of robberies. I must find him.
Into Libya I go, and am sad to report that I lost over one hundred men to the Pit of Sarlacc, which I thought was just a location/character in Return of the Jedi…who knew? During the struggle with the Sarlacc Pit, I did see two pairs of hamster tracks leading further eastward. Down to only the fifty Taureg mercenaries I have left, we continued to march eastward. Our hopes, while still optimistic, are starting to dwindle.
Suddenly, as I’m sitting on top of this sand dune and writing in my journal, I hear an unnatural and terrifying scream. A sudden rodent attack on the flank of our tent formation. Fuzzy has somehow met up with and joined a travelling band of gerbils, and this group has set itself upon my dwindling hired army. I shan’t describe in detail the horror, but we lost ten men to the most gruesome and bloody massacre I have ever seen or read about.
Fully fed on the flesh and blood of my men, Fuzzy and his companions of gerbils head south and into the country of Chad. As we continue into the desert, several sporadic attacks reduce my band and our defensive efforts has reduced Fuzzy’s group to manageable levels. As I watch the carnage as both men and rodent fall, the only ones that are left are Fuzzy and me. Being small, he disappears into the night.
On the verge of death, and completely exhausted, I search our camp and devise the cleverest and most cunning trap ever conceived. Remarkable in its complexity and its ingenuity, I am satisfied that I shall prevail. I collapse for want of sleep and enter into a deep slumber. When I awaken, I see that yes, Fuzzy had fallen into the Sarlacc Pit inspired trap. His reign of terror is over.
When I arrive home, I put Fuzzy, now fully secured in his now electrified cage…well, it’s a nine volt battery but still can make you a bit wary of it…I sit back and go over the events in my mind. Glad to have Fuzzy returned, I then focus on how next to try to…
Be Good or Be Good At It!
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