If this is the ninth instalment, the book in question must be this one…
Yes, it’s that total flop of a Hamster-Sapiens book – The Abduction of Wetpatch Wilson. I mean, how is that a book with a title that includes a character’s name like Wetpatch Wilson, fails to inspire people to check it out? I dunno: beats the shit outta me. Anyway, in yet another attempt to temp an e-book-buying public to part with a couple of Dollars, here’s this particular excerpt…
“He’s probably used his legendary deductive reasoning to calculate that the volcano would probably mangle the Bargebutt – and he’s come to save us.” Amy explained with a huge smile upon her face so lovely that it made Roman visibly wilt. “And he’s Professor Desmond’s manservant too: What would he do with himself in that great big mansion they share otherwise?
“That’s right.” Desmond agreed readily, “He’s the sort of chap who’s only really happy when he’s either with me – doing super-scientific stuff – or having sexual intercourse with the sturdily-built ladies of the forest. He adores action: He abhors sitting around upon his furry arse almost as much as he abhors a vacuum.”
Sally’s ears pricked up at the utterance of two significant words. “Sturdily-built?” She
inquired eagerly. “I’m sturdily-built. I think we can all agree on that.”
“No, Sally.” Ho spoke before the object of his desire could dig a verbal hole too deep from which to climb, “You amply-built. Not same. Sturdy is muscles. Ample is fat.”
To say that Sally was shocked at this information would have misconstrued her state of mind. She was angrier than at any time that anyone could recall. She was even angrier than the time when she was arrested for exposing her naked arse to the local police cameras. Her anger even transcended normal hamster behaviour, and steam seemed to vent from several hidden orifices. “No one,” she roared incandescently, as she cast Ho aside, dragged herself upright, and abruptly stilled the violent movements of the wildly swinging periscope with a careless paw, “has ever called me fat. My mother was fat. Her mother before her was too. But I am not. I have my father’s genes – and he was a freestyle motocross rider, I’ll have you know. If anyone thinks that I’m fat – please raise a paw now.”
They were all hamsters, but they weren’t completely stupid. Most of them still stared at the unmoving periscope with something approaching awe: They certainly didn’t want to make Sally angrier than she was already. “No.” They all said in perfect unison as they shook their heads in negation.
Wetpatch spat out Sally’s knickers. “Absolutely not.” He said – wiping his mouth and trying not to gag when he recognised the obstruction for what it was, “Here – get that sturdy arse of yours undercover again.”
Placated, Sally moved away a short distance to regain her underwear. This gave everyone the opportunity to turn their attention to the arrival of their unsolicited rescuers; and Ho a moment to question the wisdom of total honesty.
Any further potential conversation was rudely interrupted by the horrendous screeching sound made by the Disemboweller as the ancient rust-bucket gave in to the ceaseless drag of gravity, and slowly slid down the starboard flank of the vast Crustacean vessel – to settle alongside it in the alluvial mud.
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2013
P.S Actually I have a theory about this book’s inability to sell. It’s a bloody mess!