Once upon a time, I wrote a series of books that I titled Hamster-Sapiens. Initially they were quite successful. But, as time passed, I promoted them less and less, until they ceased to sell at all. Every so often I like to remind everyone that they still exist and that the e-book versions remain available at most e-book retailers. This is one of those occasions. So today I’d like to tempt you into sampling an excerpt from this wondrous tale…
And here it is…
Felicity, Roosevelt, and Brenda sat huddled about a small fire. Quentin and Darkwood graciously removed their impressive capes, and placed them about the rodent’s shoulders.
Brenda had no memory for names nor faces: Both tall handsome hamsters were both strangers to her despite the fact that she should have recognised them both from the time they fought upon opposing sides at The Battle of Weasels Pit. She knew instinctively that they were both desperately good-looking, and also that they were hamster-sexual; but their identities remained a mystery to her – even when they both hugged her close, and said, “Brenda, how simply divine to see you again.”
Roosevelt, on the other paw, recalled them instantly, and made sure that his novelty sporran remained firmly attached to the front of his kilt: He didn’t want either hamster getting any ideas.
“Yes,” Felicity was saying, “As soon as we could we came looking for Joan.”
“I imagine that you have a fabulous plan contrived already?” Quentin half inquired – half stated.
“Um, not exactly.” Felicity bit her lower lip gently. “I was just checking out the scene – when I discovered you two.”
“Four.” Margarita corrected the dormouse from behind a dense bush as she attempted to shake some of the mud from her finery without coating everyone else in the process.
“Four.” Felicity corrected herself. “I was so surprised that I let go of the window sill. This caught Roosevelt by surprise, who then tripped on our new bath mat, and poor mum couldn’t decide whether to let go of my tail, or hang on for dear life, and risk twisting her rather weak gerbilish wrists.
Both hamsters regarded Brenda’s rather short forepaws.
“Hmm, quite a quandary I can imagine.” Darkwood sniffed with obvious disapproval.
“So she let go.” Felicity surprised the listeners, “But in my panic I accidentally wrapped my prehensile tail around her neck, and dragged her here with me.”
“And I was squished up between them.” Roosevelt complained, “So now nobody knows what’s happened to us, and none of us can go fetch help.”
“Perhaps if we constructed some form of ladder…” Quentin began to suggest.
“It’ll take for ever, Quentin.” Darkwood verbally slapped his friend around the metaphorical cheek pouches, “None of us possess either the skills, temperament, or tools to perform such a rudimentary carpentry act. By the time Felicity re-accesses her reality, it could all be over for Joan. No – we must march on resolutely, and save that charming, if slightly tubby, female.”
Of course Darkwood was entirely correct. It was merely a matter of time before Lucas Cleats would act – even if it meant burning down the abbey to reach his quarry.
“What do you suggest we do?” Roosevelt spoke in his most complaining tone – a tone that had lost him several girlfriends in the past, and sometimes got him beaten up on the football field, “I mean, there’s only the five – seven – of us: What are we supposed to do against a whole gang of Stix cutthroats?’
“That boy’s sure got one darned good argument there.” Brenda voiced vociferous agreement. “What was you two dandies figurin’ on doin when ya’s got there? Kiss ‘em all to death?”
Quentin looked down his considerable nose at Brenda, and could clearly be seen considering taking back his satin cape. But he managed to retain his decorum.
“It’s Crimblesday.” He stated bluntly.
Darkwood recognised the three stranger’s expressions for what they were: Confusion.
“Posses don’t ride on Crimblesday.” He explained, “It’s against the law. And Quentin’s deputies are all away on a male-bonding seminar in Knackered Dobbin. So we came along, and hoped for divine intervention. Instead it rained, and then you lot turned up.”
Brenda and Roosevelt didn’t react immediately. In fact they didn’t react at all. Roosevelt – because he found the whole idea of absent deputies so abhorrent that he was left speechless; and Brenda – because she had no idea what male-bonding entailed, and was cooking up some pretty vivid impressions inside her head.
“Is they all poofters too?” She finally managed.
But in the time that her adopted mother took to conjure up that pearl of wisdom, Felicity had been thinking hard: Possibly harder than at any time in her life: And the conclusion that she drew proved the fact…
“Divine intervention.” She said through a smile so warm and inviting that it caused Darkwood to sigh, and clasp his paws together in sheer delight. “Darkwood – you’re a genius.”
“I am?” The heir to the throne of Sponx was surprised. “I wasn’t aware of the fact – except perhaps upon a subliminal level. What did I say?”
In answer Felicity whipped Darkwood’s cape from around her shoulder, and passed it back to its rightful owner. “I’ll tell you on the way.” She said. “Douse the fire: Mount up: We ride for Far Kinell!”
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2013