Klarinet Archive - Posting 000293.txt from 2003/04
From: "Lelia Loban" <lelialoban@-----.net>
Subj: [kl] floor hamsters
Date: Sat, 26 Apr 2003 00:33:50 -0400
B. Rite wrote,
>> A Klarinetist is in distress! I sense a visit from either Shadow or
>> Dick Vigorous.... or perhaps both.
Ken Wolman wrote,
>Good God. That looks like (1) someone I used to work for at
>AT&T in 1983 (2) the creature from a remarkable Jacques
>Tourneur movie from 1956 called "Curse of the Demon" or
>(3) something from nightmares I had when I was a kid.
Yeeks! After looking at that excellent drawing, Rebecca, I don't think you
need help from cats or rats. Try an exorcist!
;-)
Lelia
lelialoban@-----.net
------------------------------
Date: Wed, 09 Apr 2003 08:06:06 -0400
From: Shadow Cat <666felines.rule.net>
Subject: Re: [kl] floor hamsters
Message-id: <13screechsticks-suck.com>
I'm making my stupid pet human type this. I have no idea what a floor
hamster might be, but Dick, I am happy to report, will not help you,
because he is no longer Vigorous. When Lelia talks about Hammsters, she
means people who play Hammond organs, but I don't suppose they crawl around
on the floor, although I imagine they do need evicting from music rooms.
However, if they distress screech-stick players and their verminous
instruments of torture, so much the better.
Ken Wolman wrote,
>If that's a hamster, Rebecca, I'd hate to see how you draw a cat....
EXCUSE ME??? Humph!
Sssst!
Shadow Cat
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey, Dick Vigorous here. I don't know how big them floor hamsters is, but
if they taste good, count me in. That furbag Shadow Cat lies her twitchy
tail off, as usual. Okay, okay, there's a little bit of somethin to what
she said, cause Dick Vigorous the Previous, he croaked off over the winter.
That's how come he ain't said nothin lately. He got too old an sick to
take over Lelia's brain an make her her type for him no more, but he lived
to be more'n seven years old, ancient fer a rat, so Shadow Cat don't need
to go all high and mighty, cause she didn't have nothin to do with it, no
matter what she says. He died of plain old age. Not too many rats can say
that. He was sittin in the attic teachin me all about sneakin down the
drainpipe an across the floor joists above the ceiling to that
looking-crack where I can watch gangster movies on the basement TV with
Lelia, taught me how to sneak up through the wall to the attic so I can
listen to the clarinet, taught me all about stealin goodies, all about
telepathy to make humans type fer ya, all about how to taunt Shadow
Cat--taught me all about everything he knowed which was a lot, up to when
he breathed his last. He left his brains an his name to me, so I'm the new
Dick Vigorous now, an what's it to ya? Ya wanna make sumpin of it?
Yeah, a couple of the rats under the house here, they warned I better not
eat my grandpa's brains (or maybe he was my dad, or no, I think he was my
brother, or more likely all three), cause he probably died of that West
Nile whatever, but I said phooey to that, he didn't have no West Nile
nothin, them's just jealous cause he left his brains an his name to me an
not them. So we had us a good fight, rollin over an over an bitin each
other hard, an naturally I won, cause you better believe Dick Vigorous the
Previous he didn't pick no chump for his heir, so I done cracked open my
teacher's skull an et his brains an took his name an then I drug the empty
body outside fer the owls, an that done settled that. Am I ever glad I'm a
rat an not a mouse. The way they names theirselves, it's downright
disgraceful. They ain't got no concept of original thinkin. Just a few
weeks ago, I met this mouse, see, an I asked him his name, see, an he said
Mickey 940,986,305. Sheesh, what kinda name's that? A rat would crawl
away an die of shame if he got stuck with a name that lame.
So anyways, I'm Dick Vigorous now, an one of them fakers who didn't inherit
no name with honor, he got hisself a new name out of the fight after all,
cause the winner gets to name the loser. He don't like his new name much.
It's Loppy, cause I bit him specially good an now his left ear lops over
funny-like. That'll show 'em. Nobody better mess with me, ya got that?
Cause I'm top rat of this yard an this house now, I told em, and if ya
wanna come in the attic an hear the clarinets, ya gotta get permission from
me and gimme somethin good, like Cheetos or maybe raid that birdseed stash
Mr. Stumpy the Squirrel an his child bride got buried under the shed. Oh,
yeah, I know all about that. Stumpy ain't said what whacked half his tail
off, but lemme tell ya right now, it wasn't no Shadow Cat. He runs back an
forth on the outside window sill right in fronta her and taps on the glass
an says chitter-chitter-chit at her and she's on the inside window sill
where she can't do nothin but glare an hiss an bang on the glass. Every
critter in the yard's gigglin meanwhile. Them two was goin at it fifteen
minutes yesterday, near to broke the window knockin on it, until Mr.
Stumpy's child bride told him lay off teasin that hairbag an go git some of
that nice sunflower seed fer the twins why dontcha, ya lazy bum, an he says
Yes Darlin an off he goes, meek as a minnow.
Hey, clarinet players, us rats is yer biggest fans! Squeak on! Lemme know
about them floor hamsters.
Dick Vigorous
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