Saturday 28 January 2012

That time..

I was dreaming about swimming in a bath of beer ahh the bliss of it... And it reminded me of the time I went on a school trip to a whiskey distillery. I was about 3 months old and out with the other young hamsters to learn how hamster feed made humans inebriated. Being from an area of mostly teetotal hamsters they were saying how bad the booze was. Mama always said that too, my Da was a drinker like me and never paid her the pup seed allowance, he brewed beer with it instead.
At this point in my life the strongest drink I'd tried was a red bull, which I can say had very interesting effects on my wheel usage I'll tell you. The hamster tour of most places is very different to a human one, you see we are really small so need to be somewhere away from human paws, 'A flat hamster isn't a good hamster' Mama used to say. So we were taken round by the tour guide, who was a rat called Steve, nice fellow pinched my packed lunch though. The route went around the tops of the tanks where the whiskey was distilled on little walk ways. I fell to the back all this talk was boring me and my then buddy Zarniwoop (We don't get on so much these days he called me fat and I called him bald.) So we decided to liven things up a tad. When the teacher wasn't looking we climbed on to the edge of the tank to try balancing like a tightrope. To begin with we were both quite good, but the tank contained the whiskey that hadn't been watered down for sale yet and the fumes got to us. I started wobbling on the edge this new feeling of woosyness came over me and I slipped into the vat ducking under when I got a mouthful of the whiskey.
Zarniwoop was still on the edge and saw me fall so climbed back to the walk way and shouted the teacher to help. At this injunction I was still treading whiskey in the vat and thinking how to get out. Then a thought hit me, my Da always said 'Never waste booze my son' so I decided to drink my way out, or at least to a point when my toes touched the floor. Now you'd think a hamster couldn't fit a whole vat of whiskey in them. Think again, out pouches can be a bit scifi, they are bigger on the inside see as is the rest of me... So I drank I drank like my life depended on it, (well it did didn't it?) By the time Steve and the teacher turned up I'd drank the lot and was laying on the bottom of the tank singing a song about how a porupine had stole my socks for a goat. And some how, this is something that puzzles me to this day, I had a traffic cone in there with me.

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