It has been quite a while since I posted an extract from one of these books…
They are, of course, the legendary Hamster-Sapiens series. And on this occasion I have chosen a random extract from my favourite – The Psychic Historian.
The mayor warmly greeted the Chinese fact-finding mission after they were plucked from the swell, dried off, dressed in the only clothing available that would fit them – the local girl’s school sod-ball team uniform – and were presented to him.
“What is your name, brave sir?” He inquired of the ageing oriental who was feeling distinctly embarrassed in his dark green gym slip, white plimsolls, and pneumatic shoulder pads.
“Mister Fong – Senior.” The Chinese hamster replied proudly, despite his apparel.
“Of course you realize that you have done the town of Sadness a great service.” The mayor informed him.
“Suppose so.” Mister Fong (Senior) replied once more.
The mayor looked around at all the town councillors as they gathered in the rain upon the steps of the town hall in front of almost the entire population of Sadness.
“Is there any way that we can repay you for your act of heroism?” he inquired.
This was just the opening that Number One son was waiting for. He’d been practicing his speech for this moment since he’d been placed beneath a hair dryer in the parlour of a seafront beautician in an attempt to make him look more presentable.
“Yeah.” He said loudly as he stepped in front of his honoured father, “There is. Pops wants to set up chain of Chinese restaurants in Hamster-Britain. He don’t like taxes and organized crime. You take care of both – he make Sadness into happy town.”
The mayor mulled this over, and then whispered quietly amongst his acolytes.
“Chinese food, eh?” He said at last. “Is it nice?”
“It’s a bit samey.” Number One son confessed, “But, yeah, I think it’s nice.”
After a moment’s further thought the mayor extended a welcoming paw to Mister Fong (Senior). “May your life in Sadness be long and fruitful. But, sorry, the name Stickee-Lickee will have to go: It’s a bit rude.”
Number Two son quickly scurried forward. “What about plan B, honoured father?” He said. “We call it Golden Showers. Nothing rude about that.”
Again the mayor smiled. “Perfect. We have a deal?”
Then, finally, Mister Fong (Senior) smiled. “No.” He said, “You no speak Hamster British proper: We GOT a deal!”
With that the picture faded out, and someone wisely raised the house lights. It had been a moving moment for all concerned. Hamster-Britain had been a sallow, disrupted nation – until the arrival of egg fried rice. The audience took a moment to give thanks to the Saint of All Hamsters for having led the Fongs to Fadness. Then the current Fongs reanimated.
“Well was it good?” Yu Wah inquired of Sorbresto. “Did my forebears really act with great courage and chivalry?”
Tears formed in Sorbresto’s eyes. ‘Was that all that this fabulous beauty had wanted to know? That her family had acted with honour?’
“Yes.” He said, as he tried male-hamsterly to reign in his emotions.
“That’s good.” Yu Wah smiled massively “Now we have rampant sex – yes?”
Sorbresto smiled the smile of a much-travelled, world-weary, male hamster. “Yes – now we have rampant sex. But not here: I have a trailer out the back. It has a chandelier to swing from if you’re really keen.”
Upon the stage Boney’s legs wobbled in amazement at this turn of events. But then a profitable thought crossed his mind, and he spoke these words…
“Intermission, everybody. Food an’ drink available for all. I can even send out for Chinese if anyone’s interested. All at very reasonable prices of course.”
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2013