Batman Banks with Chase


Yesterday, Hanz and Chubby got into a ruckus for the first time.  Living with an aggressive, criminally insane ferret and a politicized, obese Dachshund is going  to have it’s troubles as all ferret, gorilla, and Dachshund owners know.  The altercation was incited because Chubby playfully decided to tease Hanz about his stylish new Beret (which was recommended to him by one of Abercrombie & Fitch model buddies) and in response Hanz told Chubby to quote, “Shut the hell up you fat bastard,” unquote.  Even with years of political understanding under the wise tutelage of Anthony Weiner Chubby’s rebuttal was expeditiously choked off like Vader finishing off an Admiral.  In his frustration Chubby rashly charged Hanz knocking him to his still shaved buttocks from his foray at the Renaissance Festival; this of course escalated and resulted in a shaved and dyed Dachshund, a razed sofa, a strapped for cash Batman, and an emboldened ferret (like Hanz needs to be emboldened anyhow).

Chubby may sway like a cake shovelin’ Sumo wrestler, but what he did not know is that Hanz studied the art of Teppenyaki for six weeks in New Jersey one summer along with Barney Stinson (the two met in college and are longtime wingmen).  The fight was briefly glorious, however; it was like watching a fat kid run in Forrest Gumps’ leg braces towards a closed down IHOP.  No one wants to tell the kid it’s futile, but we all know once he hits the shuttered doors it’s going to be sad.  Chubby was obviously brave to face a bi-polar, knife wielding ferret, but his finesse was sorely lacking.  I watched, dumbfounded, as Hanz embarrassed Chubby even further by trimming his shaggy hair like Edward Scissorhands finishing off a shrub and then repeatedly dunking him various dyes.  After Hanz was done with Chubby he looked like a reverse Panda Express logo…just sad.  Also, my sofa was destroyed by a frenzied ferret.

It took hours to calm Chubby down after the incident.  And, like all quandaries Chubby opted to do what we all would do in the same situation…he called Batman.  Weirdly enough we have a bat signal on our roof.  We waited and waited, and Batman nor Robin showed.  I am assuming Batman was preoccupied elsewhere and had bigger fish to fry that evening.  Regardless, I still have a seriously perturbed Dachshund who just keeps holding mock debates, straw polls, and conventions for his stuffed pig Fredrick.  Hopefully Fredrick can talk some sense into him.

Also, Malicious the Gorilla still lives in Brad’s closet.

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Mopey the Barbarian


As, Mopey the Barbarian Ferret gathered his Ferret forces he thought of the days long past when he used to play and scurry…always finding himself in asleep with his tongue hanging out in a comfortable hammock surrounded by play balls and other ferrety companions.

Now he was a battled hardened warrior that led the Tribe of Ferrets against the evil Guinea Pigs of the North.  It was said that they sacrificed mice to their unnamed king on Mount Chinchilla.  Mopey was not entirely sure if this was true, because only once as a pup had he passed the dreaded line and past the door that ‘moves upon no command’ which was nowhere close to Mount Chinchilla.  Plus no one had seen the Guinea Pig King; there were only quiet rumors that haunted the Ferret ranks about his legendary feats.

However, Mopey was still loved by all, and in there own legends it was said that he had climbed to the tallest cat tree in all of Petco and has stared down the elusive felines of the West.  It was with this spirit that he was able to unite all of the Ferret kingdom under one ruling banner in a large scale effort to battle the heinous Guinea Pig Tribe.

He had raised his army on the South side of this line amongst the glass aquariums that held the armless ones.  They never spoke, but bobbed two and fro and sometimes hurriedly swam once a crude spear, made of wooden hamster chew sticks, hit their tank.  It was here that he had raised his army.

Mopey had been planning for days and he was most certain that he had devised a strategy that would win the war.  Sun Tzu would be proud.  He gathered his troops: there was Bob the Perky Ferret, Hansel and Gretel the Twin Terrors, Dopey the Dwarf Ferret, and his right paw ferret, Greg the Stoic Ferret.  As always the meeting began with Hansel and Gretel fervently battling with one another like a classic cloud raised fight amongst schoolyard children.

“They should have been named Charlie and Lucy,” Mopey muttered to himself.

 

“You will settled down immediately,” commanded Greg with a stern, and steady voice.

 

Once the meeting had started the Twin Terrors calmed down.  Bob passed around the peace pipe and everyone else followed suit.

“Catnip, does calm the nerves doesn’t it Greg?” said Mopey in a mellow voice.  Greg merely nodded.

The meeting was success.  Hansel and Gretel would lead the legion of Ferrets in a frontal assault while Bob and Dopey would command the fire brigade from atop the aquariums.  From that particular vantage point they could continually launch aquarium rocks and trees almost ad infinitum upon the plentiful Guinea Pig forces.  Greg and Mopey would be leading the sneak attack on Chinchilla Mountain in an effort assassinate the Guinea Pig King and stop the battle from furthering for any longer than necessary.  Everyone had their roles and places and it was only a matter of time now.

It was 1pm when the Guinea Pigs struck…and no one saw it coming…not the fire brigade, not the Terror Twins, not even Mopey.

“They’re everywhere!” Hansel shouted above the cacophony.  His forces were downed in minutes.

Hansel was right though.

Guinea Pigs by the thousands swarmed over the Ferret troops.  They climbed the Petco shelves in droves knocking products off the shelves and sometimes whole aisles in a mad effort to wipe the Ferrets from the face of the Earth.  They scurried over one another with reckless abandon.  They passed over the bulk dog treat bin and left them empty in their wake.  The sunshine from the outside was blocked by Guinea Pigs that had scaled the windows looking to blind their enemies by leaving them in darkness.

Mopey just stood with his hamster spear in paw looking at the impending doom…

At about this moment I received a phone call from a very scared Petco employee asking if I was ready to pick up Hanz, my mopey ferret, from the groomers.  And, thus began my adventure to the Division street Petco.

Happy Trees


Today we open with a tale filled with mystery and a bit of history.  Mopey the Ferret comes from a long line of crazed ferrets.  Some are more infamous and well known than others, but ultimately I decided to dig into Han’s past a little bit more this past week and create a genealogical tree for my little fury friend.

Last weekend, before Mopey hit the road with Malicious to find David, he sat before the television eating his morning bowl of granola while watching his favorite TV show, “Painting with Bob Ross” on PBS.  After the show finished up and Bob and completed the last of his “happy trees” Hanz muttered, “Franken-Ross” and slurped down the last bit of his milk and scuttled off to plan something more devious in the confines of his closet.

Mopey eating his morning granola, and watching "Painting with Bob Ross."

His sudden outburst was odd, but not unlike Mopey and I dismissed it.  Now we roll like a cube to a week later, with an absent Mopey and Malicious, and a completed ancestral tree.  Lo and behold I discovered quite an interesting tale about one of Mopey’s ancestors that explains his unusual outburst.

But first let me take you on a magical journey to a land far, far away…Canada.  You find a part of yourself you never knew you possessed and you may not, but regardless you’ll learn a little more about Hanz, and well…what makes him Mopey.

It was a cool crisp evening.  There was not a sound in the air.  The normalcy of machinery and electronics is gone from this world, because it does not exist yet.  It is a simpler time.  In age where man and ferret alike are just beginning to understand the sciences.  Hokum is the main stay here.

Within a dew encrusted field of unharvested corn lays a small house…more of a shack really.  The house is old, rickety and virtually uninhabited.  Crickets and mice fill the void, but beneath the shelter lays a basement, and within this basement resides another crazed ferret not so unlike our Mopey.  He looks near identical, but far more crazed than Hanz will ever become.

18th Century Canada

Bunsen burners, beakers, and bubbling, over-filled pots heated by hamster power cover almost every available space, and dead center in the room lies a table…a small monolith built to shackle a single man.

The ferret quietly works with his back to the narrator.  He shimmies, he paws, he mutters.  This type of work continues for many hours until all goes quiet again.

Then the pitter-patter of rain envelopes the eardrums with a steady, quick beat.  The ferret stiffens in response.  There is a crack, and then thunder and lightning erupt precisely once.

The ferret cries…”Eureka!” and steps aside to reveal a monster.  But, not just any monster, but the loveable Bob Ross!  Pieced together from fallen men by the mad, feral ferret, and Mopey’s distant ancestor!

Bob Ross...or, Franken-Ross?

Bob Ross cries out, frees himself from a stunned ferret, and rushes wildly and unpredictably into the Canadian forest.

I know this hard to believe, and that’s why I provided you pause to consider what I have just divulged.  But, Bob Ross is Franken-Ross, and he has been painting happy trees for well over two-centuries now.

He may be gone now, but who knows maybe our children or our children’s children will sit down with their granola and watch a painter paint his happy trees to a whole new audience that never even knew of…FRAKEN-ROSS!

Franken-Ferret
Bob Ross

Road Trip!


Well, Celeste and I just returned from our friends to the South, with Hanz in tow.  Luckily the Mexican authorities didn’t want to stir up any trouble, so with a couple of Benjamin’s passed their way they were more than willing to hand over Mopey the Ferret without any questions.

Hanz, however, is slightly traumatized by the event and has been particularly solemn the past couple of days.  He just keeps his head hung low, and even the stewardess on the plane couldn’t get him to eat his complementary peanuts.  Any reference to “nuts” just pisses him off even further because it reminds him of Mr. Peanut the Squirrel, which has now become his arch nemesis.  It even states it on his driver’s license that his arch nemesis is Mr. Peanut.  He just has to send in the confirmation, and then they can battle freely in the streets.

I was surprised that the plane ride didn’t make him at least a tad bit happy because how often does Hanz get to wear his flying outfit from his Abercrombie & Fitch days?

Hanz in his Abercrombie & Fitch flight outfit

Anyhow, the only time he has perked up at all is when the in flight film happened to be “Evolution” starring Hanz’s beloved David Duchovny.  I think if he didn’t have David he would be Hanz the Comatose Ferret, instead of Hanz the Mopey Ferret.

Evolution starring David Duchovny

Ultimately, he’s decided to stay at our apartment once again.  I think his trust for us has been rebuilt since we came and rescued him from Mexico.  Also, Malicious Gorilla seems to comfort him.  As quiet as Malicious Gorilla is he seems to make Mopey the Ferret feel very at home.  I find them cuddling quite often when I get up in the night to head to work.

Hanz head is nestled tightly in Malicious the Gorilla’s forearm as he slowly rocks him to sleep.

Malicious the Gorilla and his comforting ways

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I woke up this morning to find Mopey the Ferret and Malicious Gorilla gone!  My ’93 Protégé is missing as well, and the only thing to mark that they had even lived here is the large amount of feces in the closet where Malicious resides and a hastily scrawled note that reads, “Gone to Hollywood to meet David. ~Hanz”

Hollywood

Honestly, the only part that surprises me is that Malicious went with Hanz…hopefully they’re all right, but the hell how am I supposed to get to work now?

My '93 Protege

My Little Jester


So, today I had to take the day off in order to have my availability fully open to pick up Hanz from the local Renaissance festival in “Browne’s Addition.” He was very adamant about going to said festival and of course Hanz has yet to receive his driver’s license or learner’s permit even though I’ve practically thrown the DOL guide at him for months now. Inevitably I just piss off a ferret who already has anger issues and is the size of a primordial skunk. More often than not I get a pissed soaked, shredded DOL guide discretely hidden amongst my items…usually in my sock drawer or if I particularly make him angry in my lunch bag for work…

Nevertheless, in my slight fear of my ferret I ended up spending my Sunday waiting for a cell phone call with a picture of a ferret in a jester’s cap to pop up on my cell phone screen.

Mopey Ferret Dance in a War Dance

Blogged with the Flock Browser

After many wasted hours with my friend Mr. Mario, a couple of Cajun Top-Ramens, and a pint of my gorilla’s homemade beer from his closet of solitude distillery I ramshackle my way out to my ’93 protegé Johnny and sauntered my ass up to Coeur d’Alene park to pick Hanz from his afternoon of ye old jestering. Before I even reached the fringe of the park I see an angry mob of ye old peasants chasing after a tan ferret clutching his jester hat with a sad but still attached tail tucked between his well toned ferret buttocks. As I coasted by in 2nd, I reached over, popped open the passenger door, and a scared but fully aware ferret clawed his way in, slammed his door, and pulled his lap belt over his jester cod piece and plummage.

I tried asking him what had happen, but all I could gather between his labor breaths were the phrases, “bosomed wench” and “bad idea.”

I’m sure he’ll tell me once I loosen him up with a keg or two of malicious gorilla’s fine home spun brew, but till then only mopey ferret’s fellow renaissance patrons and a letter from the courts will know what happened that fateful Sunday afternoon….