I returned repeatedly, helplessly fascinated, unable to comprehend the uncanny hold the page exerted on me. Those cheerful little gray hampsters, bouncing up and down in a chorus line. They moved with perfect synchonicity, up and down, up and down, like the pistons of some furry, chipmunk-cheeked machine. The power-walking-in-place hampsters, their eyes fixedly staring out in mute appeal as they pant and jiggle. The ones that didn't even dance, just twirled in an endless circle, beady eyes shut and stubby arms rapturously raised to the heavens. I've tried spinning in place like that. It's fun, and what's more, it leads to a unique altered state of reality.
Let us toast: To a new world of gods and Hampsters! Guess what? After weeks of close study and careful analysis, I realized this was no mere disco. It was Hamster Hell! These were the souls of naughty hampsters who bit small children, who escaped and lived free in the house until they chewed an electrical cord, and who had a litter of adorable squirming babies and then bit their heads off right before the eyes of an aghast owner.
Then I took a cold shower, watched Frasier, and came down off my cappo high. More guess what . . . |