Guinea Pig Escape

It is without a fathom of doubt that my guinea pigs adore me. I am their guide, their mentor, their feeder. I am their mother. Without me, they would stop breathing, because the loss of their mother would rip their heart out of their tiny chests. And so long as they are living, our love for each other will be strong enough to keep balance and harmony in our lives. It's a beautiful thing, really. Yes, Fatone and Bedhead, (Rest in peace, Helen) truly, irrevocably,absolutely, love me.

But sometimes they forget that they love me.

And then things happen.

*Rubs tailbone*

Anyway, I guess it was my fault. I was blinded by my love for my pig pigs. My petite chochons, my fat rodents, my lovely-okay, I'm sorry. I guess this all began when my guinea pigs decided to be really smelly and started stinking up the house yesterday, and my mom was all like.

"They are stinking up the house! How about you put them outside?"
And I was like,

"BUT THEY ARE TOO GENTLE AND KIND FOR THE WILDERNESS! THEY ARE TOO SLOW AND THEY LACK THE PROPER JUDGEMENT TO ALLOW THEM TO MAKE CORRECT DECISIONS LIKE WHEN THEY ENCOUNTER A PELLET OF POISON AND THEY THINK THEY SHOULD EAT IT! THERE IS A REASON THAT THEY ARE EXTINCT IN THE WILD! Oh, it's a nice day."

So I carted my guinea pigs outside onto my patio, into the sunshine. But not into too much sunshine, because guinea pigs are susceptible to heatstroke, but not too much in the shade because guinea pigs don't like frigid conditions. And I regularly checked on them, gave them plenty of water, changed the position of the cage with the movement of the sun, stroked them when they got lonely, made sure that Bedhead, who is sick, eats his food, and all of that. We were loving on each other like mad. I was bursting with love for my lovely pigs. And they were bursting with love for me! It was wonderful!

And so it was nearing the end of the day, and it was nice and pleasant, and I was just getting ready for my end day walk, when I saw that Fatone, my fattest pig, was lookin' a little bored.

ME: Ooooh, whooj a wittle bored wittle guy? Whooj feelin' a wittle down? Whooj needs a wittle fwesh air?

FATONE: Wheek.

ME: It's you! It's you!
And I figured today was the perfect day to let my pig out and let him hang around in a contained outdoor area for a little while. I wasn't worried about him leaving me, because he loves me and if someone loves you they will never leave you, so I picked him up and out of his cage. I put him on my shoulder, because that's his favorite spot, and took him over to my play set. The play set was wooden, with a small platform used to get to the slide, so I put him on that, figuring a new environment would do him nicely. He just sat there. He didn't move. He looked darn scared.

ME: OH, WHOOJ A LITTLE PIGGY? WHOOJ A LITTLE SCARED OF THE "PLAYSET"? WHOOJ NEEDS A WITTLE MORE NATURE AND LESS OF A STARK AND WOODEN BACKGROUND?

Fatone: Wheek.

ME: It's YOU! It's YOU!

So he ran into my arms and climbed up on my shoulder, and wheeked at me to let me know that he was ready to go. So I walked over to my basketball post. The ground there is worn down to the dirt, where people play most often, so it was grass-free and safe from evil grass bugs. I placed him down there gently, letting him get used to the area before stepping back and beholding him. He still didn't move. He just stood there in a very bored manner and looked at me like a teenager who looks at his mother when she brings him to Chuck E. Cheese for his birthday. So I crouched down besides him to give him friendly encouragement. So he would enjoy the fresh air a bit more.

ME: WHOOJ-A-WITTLE-SCARED-OF-THE-WORLD? DO-NOT-BE-FWIGHTENED! THIS-IS-THE-REALM-OF-YOUR-ANCESTORS! BE FWEE! BE TWOO!

And so we stared at each other, because he understood me, and wanted to share this moment.

                                     \

Fatone, my beloved guinea pig, had decided to make a run for it. He darted for the small tree behind me, going between my legs. It took me a second to realize that he had in fact he had just decided to abandon his loving mother, and when I did my reflexes were astonishingly slow. He had made it under tree by the time I turned around. The tree is short, with low hanging branches, so I had to duck as I walked quickly after him. I cooed gentle coos to my sweet rodent, hoping he would hold still long enough for me to grab him.

I lunged.

Fatone jumped out of the way and curtailed in the opposite direction, running at a speed that a cheetah would envy. No, I'm serious. Apparently guinea pigs are the fastest creatures known to man, and they just don't get a chance to show you. But he was showing me now. I started to chase after him. He stuck to the side of the massive wooden fence that divides us from the neighbors. (They put it up shortly after they realized that we were a bad influence.) He was running so fast I had run full speed to keep up with him. His long fur trailed in the wind, and the fat on his stomach lurched up and down dramatically as he tried to run away from me. I think the fat did him in, because he stopped for no reason. I took this as an opportunity to run ahead of him where the fence ended. I head behind the blind corner of the fence and waited. I couldn't see where he was but I sensed him. And when I thought he was close I jumped out from behind my fence to ambush him.

ME: HA HA! (ESTHER lands on grass in front of FATONE. Her timing was off. ESTHER feels stupid. FATONE curtails again)

So now he runs back to the stupid tree. I jog after him, wounded, but calm because Fatone loves me and people who love each other are together forever. But he was gettin' awful close to our shed, which is propped above the ground. If he hid in it, he would never come out. I ran as fast as I could and put myself between him and the shed, but he ran behind it. I followed, and upon seeing that he was running for the road that parallels my front yard, I made a desperate leap for him. I've never, ever, leaped for anything in my life. It must have been my lack of practice, because I missed. My accuracy was so terrible, that I actually landed in a mud puddle that was full of decaying berries from that tree. I bruised my arm, and Fatone was still going strong. That pig never exercised before in his life, and still was running a marathon. I felt defeated.

Then I felt scared.

What if Fatone actually got away? What would I do if my beloved rodent left my life? In my burst of annewed terror, my adreniline must have gone sky high. I dashed after him, catching up quickly. Then I leaped one last time and...

I secured him in my grasp! Holding him close to my chest, I ran all the way to the cage, put him in, and then collapsed on the patio. (Ouch, by the way) It was over. My guinea pig was saved, I was exhausted, and the world was all right again. Fatone was fine, except for a broken toenail, which bled but wasn't too bad. I,  myself, was feeling a tad emotional about the whole ordeal.

And then I realized that my guinea pigs love me, that they will always love me unless they forget, and so I don't have anything to worry about. My sister says I've brainwashed myself, but come on. Love is an okay form of brainwashing, right? Not that I'm brainwashed. I'm just loved.

So I came inside, covered in mud and blood, my knee scraped, and myself being tired as could be. But things could have been worse. Fatone could have escaped, realized that he needed me (since he forgot), and then could not find his way home. So it turned out to be an okay deal. So, I guess there's a moral here:

GUINEA PIGS RUN FAST!

With love,

Esther

The Shower Man!

Okay, okay, that was not a reference to Psycho or Singing in the Rain. I was actually making a reference to my rampant paranoia. I'm a really cautious person, so I have a tendency to double-check the most ridiculous things, just to make sure they don't hurt me.

Like the *cough* shower man *cough*

Okay, I said it! I am afraid of the...Shower Man..

(Creepy Music)

The shower man, just to set things straight, is a man that happens to find your shower interesting and wants to live in it. And if you try to take his shower, he'll shank you with his long, sharp spork. You can shank with a spork, by the way. All he wants is his shower, man! Hence, Shower Man.  He also likes to pop out and scare you when your back is turned. I'm deathly afraid of him.

Hey, it's not my fault. It's my sister's. We were both in the bathroom when she suddenly opened the shower curtain.

ESTHER: Why did you do that?

SIS: What? Oh, you mean checking the shower? I was seeing if anybody was in there.

ESTHER: Why would there be someone in the shower?

SIS:  Don't you think someone could just pop out and get you?

ESTHER: No! That's ridiculous! Why would that ever happen?

SIS: You're right, I guess that is weird. (EXITS.)

(There is a long pause. ESTHER stands near the shower. A scared look overcomes her face.)

ESTHER: Oh, frell. (Checks shower.)

I love myself. I really do. So now just a person who hangs out in the shower has evolved into Shower Man. Curse you Shower Man! Where is Superman when you need him? Or Batman? Megaman? Anyone will do. Just get that man out of my shower!

Nobody else seems to notice shower man.  I think he is only out to shank me. It's probably because I taste like chicken and the rest of my family tastes like beef. When you have a choice, you go with chicken, ya know?

At least he doesn't live in my shower all the time. He totally avoids it in the mornings, when people are getting cleaned up. However, when dawn turns its fading head, he does come back. Unless you check the shower after you enter the bathroom, in which case he turns invisible. But if you forget, just once, he'll get ya! He'll get ya all!

I am going to try to keep Shower Man happy by singing him a song.

Shower Man! Shower Man!
Does what ever a shanker can!
He will stab
with his spork
which is a mixture
of a spoon and a fork

Watch out! Here comes Shower Man!

My mom just might think I have issues when she comes home and finds me stalking around, looking behind my shoulder and singing Shower Man.

But then again, it's worth it. So beware for all of those who want to use the can.

Watch out, here comes Shower Man.

COMICZ!

It was a boring day in September and I was lying on my couch thinking of the little sad things in life. (I enjoy thinking of sad things.) I thought of many sad things. I thought of puppies with three legs and gnomes that had lost their pointy hats. I thought of little packages that have not been tied up with strings, and all the times a blind person loses his car keys. The thing that triggered today's blog post, however, is this:

Money.

Mmkay, so my family is not the poorest in the world. We get what we need, but we don't actually have cash for the extra things in life like net books and PS3s. (I want to play Final Fantasy Verses XIII, okay?) Before you think I am a newb, I am not a materialistic person. It would just be nice to have some extra dough in your pocket so you can do special things with your family. That's my reasoning anyway. So I decided to find some way to get money and fast. . .

Dog walking? All the dog's in my neighborhood are strays.
Cat bathing? Too lethal.
Blind person's key finder? Nah.
Cake baker? Too dishonest.

What, do you think I'm lazy? Well, I'm not!

Finally, it hit me. There IS a way to make money and fast! I was looking through the daily comic strips when it hit me: comic book strip writers make money for doing hardly anything at all! Look at Garfield, for instance. Those comics (while decent in the past) are quite useless now! They are about nothing! Sometimes they don't even have a punch line that makes sense, but the public eats it up for some reason. The Garfield Guy makes a lot of money from doing nothing, so what about me? I can be lazy and efficient.

I will be the best useless comic strip writer of all time.

I examined Garfield's selling formula and melted it down into several basic concepts. I deducted that there are three things about that comic strip that make it sell:

1. It has a cute animal starring in it.

2. Its simple-minded interface makes it accessible to people of any mental integrity.

3. The constant accidents that some main characters get into makes people happy, because people grow off of the mindless suffering of others!


If my comic strip had all of the above, I could get rich in no time, so I got off to work. Soon, I came up with this:




This is the perfect comic strip. It has all of the qualities a top selling comic strip should have. Note the cute flying pig appearing in two of the panels. He is my adorable mascot, and while he doesn't actually serve any purpose in the strip, he does attract the audience who has a soft spot for pigs and cute things.

Second, note the limited vocabulary of the stick figures. They talk simply, so people don't have to use their brain to figure out the strip.

Third, the characters have just had a horrible mishap, which is great because readers love that.


After a while, the readers will forget why they are reading my strip, but out of habit they keep reading it anyway. Using this to my advantage, I will slowly get rid of any of the good art I had in my older comics, and basically just have my stick figures stand around talking about something funny. So I'll do something like this:






Eventually, people won't even care if I have a punchline! Out of mind numbing habit, they won't even care if my comic has a shred of goodness in it. At this point, I will be a millionaire, and not caring what the public thinks, I will make comics like this:

I will be rich for sure, won't I? I better get started right away!

(EDIT: I submitted my comics to the daily newspaper. I was rejected.)