Long before those silly-sod earplugs appeared on the scene, my comedic desires were assuaged by stories about sentient hamsters that lived in a parallel universe to our own. Hence the Hamster-Sapiens series of e-books.
In this encounter with Hamster-Fiction, I invite you to view an excerpt from the final book, Danglydong Dell Diaries...
Of all those present in the audience in Danglydong Dell that night, only Algy Timber – the production manager at the Kool Kustard factory (which was located in the small industrial estate between the Green Mucus Home for Old Bastards, and the petrified forest) – recognised the tiny figure that now stepped upon the dais. He was scruffily dressed in a sackcloth jerkin; baggy woollen trousers; and a pair of rough, high-heeled, riding boots that easily gained him an extra ten percent of his true height. He was also a harvest mouse, and almost everyone there felt a vague sense of disgust at his appearance.
“Stubby Collett!” Algy roared with surprise, “What are you doing here?”
Algy’s wife, Mildred, tried to pull him back down into his seat. She feared that her husband might cause an embarrassing scene, and she didn’t like ‘scenes’: They gave her the hiccups.
‘Stubby’ waved to Algy in a most feminine manner, and what few fans he’d managed to muster in those opening seconds quickly withdrew their support. “Hiya, Algy.” He croaked in an equally unappealing voice.
Although Algy had told her all about him and their adventure together, and how Stubby had been shot in the chest by a crossbow bolt, and how magically he’d gained some pert young breasts, Mildred had never met Stubby Collett. The recollection was too overwhelming for her, and she did exactly what Algy was afraid she would: She fainted.
This simple act was probably fortuitous because what Stubby did next stunned almost everyone there. First his sackcloth jerkin changed into a pleasant winter poncho: The trousers transformed into a pair of the sheerest snow-leggings that anyone could ever recalling seeing: And the riding boots became elegant steel toe-capped builder’s sandals. Then his tail disappeared; breasts appeared upon his slender chest; and finally the harvest mouse was no longer a harvest mouse at all, but a beautiful young female hamster.
“Well bugger me,” Huck Ballesteroid exclaimed. “I’ve come over all shocked and awed!”
“Cor blimey!” Horatio Horseblanket spoke at his most lascivious.
“Hello Primrose.” Algy returned the earlier wave of Stubby Collet’s. Then he added, rather unnecessarily, “Look everyone – it’s the delightful Primrose Pickles: She’s a super-psychic from an alternate continuum you know. She can make you believe anything that she wants you to believe, she can. Gosh she’s so super-talented.”
“And super trouser-flappingly gorgeous too!” Horatio’s gums salivated with desire as he spoke.
Everyone tittered at this: They did so adore their local hero, and thoroughly enjoyed his sexist remarks – even if he was betrothed to the lovely Colleen Slapper of Chunderland, and should have known better.
Primrose gave Horatio a subtle wink, and then opened her diary in preparation to speak.
Joan Bugler was surprised at this: As far as she was concerned Primrose was a non-practising lesbian: To see her wink at Horatio Horseblanket so suggestively caused her to reappraise her relationship with the shapely young hamster, and question many of the psychic’s actions during their adventures together in Prannick.
Felicity had just retaken her seat beside her sister, and noted Joan’s thoughtful expression. She read it perfectly. “He is Horatio Horseblanket.” She whispered into Joan’s ear. “His hero status and charming demeanour are enough to turn the head of even the most confirmed dyke. He gave you one last year, I seem to recall. You’re not exactly a sex-goddess, yet you succumbed: Poor Primrose has no chance against his will.”
“Or his non-bristly, and ever so squelchy, scrotum.” Joan said as she recalled the events immediately following the end of the Psychic Historian show in Gerbils Ruin the year previous when she was seen to ride off with Horatio into the night upon the back of his pet cavy, Wolfgang. “And he can ride a scooter fantastically well too.”
But within a heartbeat both rodent’s attention returned to the dais…
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2013
Wasn’t that nice? And only slightly disgusting too! Naturally the e-book is available all over the place. Check out the side bar (to your right) for some of the better-known outlets.