Reposted for Good Humor Monday
Trapped in the kitchen of a run down relative's house, I daydreamed myself free. They were my ex's family, hockey people; the kind of dullards who wear sports jerseys to family social events. All they cared about and talked about was hockey, something I cared nothing for and cared less to talk about. The winter kitchen was warm with them, but I was quite happy to be alone by myself.
I took a quick exit from my day-dream, snatched a snack off the table, closed my eyes and returned to my imagination.
Thump.
Something light nudged my toe.
I nudged back.
Bomp again.
(Seems like a ball), I rolled it away.
Thumpt-t, it returned.
Tap, away you go.
Obviously something was askew with the house. The place moaned and creaked all night as every footfall sent tectonic shock waves groaning through the floors and crinkling up the walls. The kitchen floor was the worst; it creaked and snapped at each deflection. The floor was about as level as a freeway ramp and something under the table kept commuting into my foot.
Tud.
Damned it! I squib kicked whatever it was away, but perhaps too hard.
Wobbling on its axis, a small translucent ball crested planet-like over the horizon of the table. It arced across the kitchen sky, then set into the refrigerator with a bang. It dribbled, spun and rolled -- then settled into a deep divot in the linoleum floor.
The room went suddenly, and may I add quite astonishingly, quiet. I quickly donned a mask of sheepish contrition.
Our host shot me a look that could kill (and being a hockey guy, I trusted he would if he could). He scrambled to retrieve the ball and lovingly unscrewed its halves. Then ever so gently, he removed a stunned and dizzy little hamster.
The house gasped with horror. In the living room the social vultures unfolded their wings, to circle slowly into the kitchen. There, they hovered and prined, glaring at me as if to say with their dull eyes "do we feed now?"
What followed was a swift and graceless exit.
© Greg Schiller, 2007
Author: Greg Schiller
recommend this
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 42
Er, um, I mean, poor hamster.
The gerbil went back into its cage. Then the cat got him, and the next gerbil, and the next . . .
Interesting that a family full of 'soccer-heads' would have a rodent for a pet, I'd expect them to have a fighting cock or pit bull.
I almost got my a** kicked once when I changed the channel from a soccer game on a television in the bar of a Canadian hotel (The Arlington Hotel in Collingwood, Ontario) where my band "The Tasmanian Slime Devils" had a miserable gig.
Loved it. Haven't we all been there in some form or fashion? Not funny then, particularly, but definitely "funny ha-ha" now!
Jennifer
Funny story.
Not much of a rodent fan myself......
So, if you were not interested in being at the gathering of sports happy people, why did you go in the first place? There are several ways to bow out of a gathering you would prefer not to attend.
Last question, although dizzy, was the hammie ok at the end?
The fact that you post shows you are still here aboard earth and therefore your title is in error! What may be more accurate is; "My Worst Faux Pas.... To Date."
There, glad I could cheer you up.
I just wanted to stop by since I am finally going through what is now listed as under 5,200 pieces of gather new mail that is sitting in my inbox on here.
With that mentioned I just came across either a mailing from you yourself, or someone else brought this piece to my attention. You or they felt that your creation should be shared with the gather community, which I am very glad that it was passed on to me to view.
So I wanted to say Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to publish it here on gather for us to all view. :o)
As well before I leave you I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year... in 2009 :o)