Batman Banks with Chase

Yesterday, Hanz and Chubby got into a ruckus for the first time.  Living with an aggressive, criminally insane ferret and a politicized, obese Dachshund is going  to have it’s troubles as all ferret, gorilla, and Dachshund owners know.  The altercation was incited because Chubby playfully decided to tease Hanz about his stylish new Beret (which was recommended to him by one of Abercrombie & Fitch model buddies) and in response Hanz told Chubby to quote, “Shut the hell up you fat bastard,” unquote.  Even with years of political understanding under the wise tutelage of Anthony Weiner Chubby’s rebuttal was expeditiously choked off like Vader finishing off an Admiral.  In his frustration Chubby rashly charged Hanz knocking him to his still shaved buttocks from his foray at the Renaissance Festival; this of course escalated and resulted in a shaved and dyed Dachshund, a razed sofa, a strapped for cash Batman, and an emboldened ferret (like Hanz needs to be emboldened anyhow).

Chubby may sway like a cake shovelin’ Sumo wrestler, but what he did not know is that Hanz studied the art of Teppenyaki for six weeks in New Jersey one summer along with Barney Stinson (the two met in college and are longtime wingmen).  The fight was briefly glorious, however; it was like watching a fat kid run in Forrest Gumps’ leg braces towards a closed down IHOP.  No one wants to tell the kid it’s futile, but we all know once he hits the shuttered doors it’s going to be sad.  Chubby was obviously brave to face a bi-polar, knife wielding ferret, but his finesse was sorely lacking.  I watched, dumbfounded, as Hanz embarrassed Chubby even further by trimming his shaggy hair like Edward Scissorhands finishing off a shrub and then repeatedly dunking him various dyes.  After Hanz was done with Chubby he looked like a reverse Panda Express logo…just sad.  Also, my sofa was destroyed by a frenzied ferret.

It took hours to calm Chubby down after the incident.  And, like all quandaries Chubby opted to do what we all would do in the same situation…he called Batman.  Weirdly enough we have a bat signal on our roof.  We waited and waited, and Batman nor Robin showed.  I am assuming Batman was preoccupied elsewhere and had bigger fish to fry that evening.  Regardless, I still have a seriously perturbed Dachshund who just keeps holding mock debates, straw polls, and conventions for his stuffed pig Fredrick.  Hopefully Fredrick can talk some sense into him.

Also, Malicious the Gorilla still lives in Brad’s closet.

Chubby the Dachshund

I work graveyards, so I usually wrap up my shift in the early morning and I had home in the wee hours…usually when everyone is just beginning to stir.  Nevertheless, at 8am or so, I am very groggy and desperately looking forward to heading home to gulp down a cup of joe or two before hitting the hay.

This is usually how I spend my mornings.

Today’s morning was a little more complicated than that and sleep didn’t occur right away.  First off driving home was a bitch.  Spokane traffic is horrible during the summer.  You could be two blocks away from your house and pass by four traffic crews, twelve drivers who don’t know how to signal, a bicyclist who prefers to weave down the center lane, and somehow, no matter what, you will still end up overshooting your house and ending up on the opposite side of the city.  A five-minute drive almost took me twenty and my ’87 Chevette doesn’t have very many twenties left in her.

It's true.

Needless to say I was in a less than stellar mood by the time I reached home, so when I opened the door to an apartment filled to the brim with purple haze I was quickly delivered to livid.  There, in plain view, was a chubby Dachshund strapped into a baby seat next to a passed out ferret after a late night of smokin’ the ganja, looping “Beat It” on vinyl, and playing Super Mario Bros. on my NES!  Mopey was softly snoring, yet twitching and muttering about Goombas.  I kicked him as I went by and he started to stir some more as I put my coat away.

As soon as Mopey straggled his was out his slumber I asked him to head into the office.  We needed to talk.  The whole time Chubby the Dachshund just laid in his car seat making wheezing noises and occasionally coughing which ultimately knocked over his ‘snorkeling’ gear.

After some ferret harassment, which might border on the illegal Mopey confessed that Chubby used to be a political campaign manager to Anthony Weiner and since the great Weiner debacle Chubby has been out of the job.  Chubby was raised in a single-parent household with thirteen other chubby Dachshunds’ and it has always been his dream to be a politician.  Because of Weiner’s wiener tweets it looks like Chubby’s dream is all but lost, so he called up his old college roommate, Mopey, hitched a ride to Spojakistan, and spent the night wallowing in copious amount of weed, alcohol, Michael Jackson vinyl, and NES classics in order to ‘forget.’

After such a sad tale and with Malicious the Gorilla living with Bradley now I decided to let Chubby stay as long as Mopey cleaned up the house and lit some incense.  As he scurried off to clean and tell a comatose Chubby the good news I plopped down on my bed.

“Damn it Mopey!  Who painted Che Guevara on my ceiling!?”

Mopey the Barbarian

As, Mopey the Barbarian Ferret gathered his Ferret forces he thought of the days long past when he used to play and scurry…always finding himself in asleep with his tongue hanging out in a comfortable hammock surrounded by play balls and other ferrety companions.

Now he was a battled hardened warrior that led the Tribe of Ferrets against the evil Guinea Pigs of the North.  It was said that they sacrificed mice to their unnamed king on Mount Chinchilla.  Mopey was not entirely sure if this was true, because only once as a pup had he passed the dreaded line and past the door that ‘moves upon no command’ which was nowhere close to Mount Chinchilla.  Plus no one had seen the Guinea Pig King; there were only quiet rumors that haunted the Ferret ranks about his legendary feats.

However, Mopey was still loved by all, and in there own legends it was said that he had climbed to the tallest cat tree in all of Petco and has stared down the elusive felines of the West.  It was with this spirit that he was able to unite all of the Ferret kingdom under one ruling banner in a large scale effort to battle the heinous Guinea Pig Tribe.

He had raised his army on the South side of this line amongst the glass aquariums that held the armless ones.  They never spoke, but bobbed two and fro and sometimes hurriedly swam once a crude spear, made of wooden hamster chew sticks, hit their tank.  It was here that he had raised his army.

Mopey had been planning for days and he was most certain that he had devised a strategy that would win the war.  Sun Tzu would be proud.  He gathered his troops: there was Bob the Perky Ferret, Hansel and Gretel the Twin Terrors, Dopey the Dwarf Ferret, and his right paw ferret, Greg the Stoic Ferret.  As always the meeting began with Hansel and Gretel fervently battling with one another like a classic cloud raised fight amongst schoolyard children.

“They should have been named Charlie and Lucy,” Mopey muttered to himself.


“You will settled down immediately,” commanded Greg with a stern, and steady voice.


Once the meeting had started the Twin Terrors calmed down.  Bob passed around the peace pipe and everyone else followed suit.

“Catnip, does calm the nerves doesn’t it Greg?” said Mopey in a mellow voice.  Greg merely nodded.

The meeting was success.  Hansel and Gretel would lead the legion of Ferrets in a frontal assault while Bob and Dopey would command the fire brigade from atop the aquariums.  From that particular vantage point they could continually launch aquarium rocks and trees almost ad infinitum upon the plentiful Guinea Pig forces.  Greg and Mopey would be leading the sneak attack on Chinchilla Mountain in an effort assassinate the Guinea Pig King and stop the battle from furthering for any longer than necessary.  Everyone had their roles and places and it was only a matter of time now.

It was 1pm when the Guinea Pigs struck…and no one saw it coming…not the fire brigade, not the Terror Twins, not even Mopey.

“They’re everywhere!” Hansel shouted above the cacophony.  His forces were downed in minutes.

Hansel was right though.

Guinea Pigs by the thousands swarmed over the Ferret troops.  They climbed the Petco shelves in droves knocking products off the shelves and sometimes whole aisles in a mad effort to wipe the Ferrets from the face of the Earth.  They scurried over one another with reckless abandon.  They passed over the bulk dog treat bin and left them empty in their wake.  The sunshine from the outside was blocked by Guinea Pigs that had scaled the windows looking to blind their enemies by leaving them in darkness.

Mopey just stood with his hamster spear in paw looking at the impending doom…

At about this moment I received a phone call from a very scared Petco employee asking if I was ready to pick up Hanz, my mopey ferret, from the groomers.  And, thus began my adventure to the Division street Petco.

“Vaginas R Us”

This week marks the beginning of my vacation and so nevertheless I have been taking it quite easy these past few days.  Nothin’ harsh, nothin’ extraneous is my current motto.  So, this morning I plopped my lazy ass down upon the couch to watch the newest “Colbert Report” on my now regrettable subscription to HuluPlus with a big bowl of “Lucky Munch.” (I’m too poor to afford the ‘Charms’ part, so I only get the ‘Munch’…after all I am a writer.)

As the episode of the “Colbert Report” began to buffer for the next four-and-a-half hours I snagged my laptop and began reading some of the morning’s headlines as I dove into my “Lucky Munch.”  First couple of headlines were ‘meh’ at best, but the third one down caught my eye.

Colbert makes too much money, and thus can afford actual "Lucky Charms."

“Crazed Ferret Molests Duchovny, Takes Gorilla as Hostage”

“Shit!” is all that came to mind.  Within a couple of Google searches I had the whole picture laid out.  Here is the information that I could gather from the intertubes.  Some sections of the web were blocked with blowup dolls, but I was able to gather what I needed to know about my retarded ferret and his shenanigans.  Here is a brief synopsis of the events:

Apparently, Hanz made it L.A. without incident.  No crashed Protégé, no pedestrians struck by a poorly insured Ferret driving erratically down the California state highway.  But, once they reached L.A. the shit really hit the fan quick.  High RPMs everything.  “Airplane” had nothing on the events that Malicious and Mopey traveled through that evening.  Malicious the Gorilla took off and hit several strip clubs in a drunken stupor before setting up his ‘nest’ at the classy “Vaginas R Us” strip club in L.A.  He then proceeded to get even more wasted and lets just say a 300-lb strip club bouncer does not stand a chance against a 600-lb silverback drunk off his ass with a wad of ones and a will to stay.

Yes, there is an actual "Vaginas R Us" in L.A.

Mopey, however, decided to ask Mr. Duchovny immediately about his script idea and with the help of the cast of “Big Bang Theory” was able to ascertain where David Duchovny’s house resided in the Hills with the promise to ‘get’ Walowitz a woman (Ah, gotta love Google Maps & Street View).  Nevertheless, Hanz, the Mopey Ferret, ended up scaling a 20-foot retaining wall and crawled into bed with David Duchovny and his mistress clutching a worn and battered script written in the ancient scrawl of ferret.  Needless to say when David reached over in the night and grabbed something unexpected and hairy Hanz and David equally flipped out.  Hanz began beating David with his script while David ran for the phone.  Long story short Hanz’s little butt cheeks were pumpin’ in the L.A. heat as a swarm of personal body guards chased after him.

David shocked after grabbing Hanz's....

Oddly enough Malicious was being chased at about the same moment by the ‘L.A. Bouncer Union’ (Unionized after the great stripper riots of the 90’s) after Malicious severely injured the “Vaginas R Us” bouncer by viciously tossing him into the stripper pole after he tried to take the drink out of Malicious’ paw.  Malicious staggering because of his drunkenness and Hanz because of the realization that he just beat his idol with a script they both headed to the Protegé.  They ended up reaching the Protégé at about the same time and screeched out of the city with as much urgency as a penguin looking for flight…both would frantically, and for good reason.

Malicious the Gorilla's expression while drunk, running, and passed out in the Protege's trunk.

The headline and video snapshot of my Protégé with a crazed ferret behind the wheel was taken by the L.A. police department, but miraculously enough Mopey and Malicious got away without being caught and no further instances.

Hanz behind the wheel of the Protege with Malicious passed out in the trunk.

Honestly how would you prosecute a gorilla and a ferret anyhow, plus who escapes in a ’93 Protégé?  I doubt the cops would have assumed that one…I sure as hell wouldn’t have!

In conclusion, Mopey made it back to Spokane in one piece.  He dropped Malicious off at Brad’s (they share a special bond, and since Celeste and I have moved out they’ve grown quite close.  Texting and whatnot), crashed my Protégé (fuckin’ A…again!)  at the corner, and passed out in the liquor fridge clutching his now bloodied script and a bottle of Bacardi.  I hope to God Hanz doesn’t try to clone David Duchovny now…at the very least he’ll probably try and sell David Duchovny’s DNA on eBay or something stupid.

The Protegé after he crashed it...

Happy Trees

Today we open with a tale filled with mystery and a bit of history.  Mopey the Ferret comes from a long line of crazed ferrets.  Some are more infamous and well known than others, but ultimately I decided to dig into Han’s past a little bit more this past week and create a genealogical tree for my little fury friend.

Last weekend, before Mopey hit the road with Malicious to find David, he sat before the television eating his morning bowl of granola while watching his favorite TV show, “Painting with Bob Ross” on PBS.  After the show finished up and Bob and completed the last of his “happy trees” Hanz muttered, “Franken-Ross” and slurped down the last bit of his milk and scuttled off to plan something more devious in the confines of his closet.

Mopey eating his morning granola, and watching "Painting with Bob Ross."

His sudden outburst was odd, but not unlike Mopey and I dismissed it.  Now we roll like a cube to a week later, with an absent Mopey and Malicious, and a completed ancestral tree.  Lo and behold I discovered quite an interesting tale about one of Mopey’s ancestors that explains his unusual outburst.

But first let me take you on a magical journey to a land far, far away…Canada.  You find a part of yourself you never knew you possessed and you may not, but regardless you’ll learn a little more about Hanz, and well…what makes him Mopey.

It was a cool crisp evening.  There was not a sound in the air.  The normalcy of machinery and electronics is gone from this world, because it does not exist yet.  It is a simpler time.  In age where man and ferret alike are just beginning to understand the sciences.  Hokum is the main stay here.

Within a dew encrusted field of unharvested corn lays a small house…more of a shack really.  The house is old, rickety and virtually uninhabited.  Crickets and mice fill the void, but beneath the shelter lays a basement, and within this basement resides another crazed ferret not so unlike our Mopey.  He looks near identical, but far more crazed than Hanz will ever become.

18th Century Canada

Bunsen burners, beakers, and bubbling, over-filled pots heated by hamster power cover almost every available space, and dead center in the room lies a table…a small monolith built to shackle a single man.

The ferret quietly works with his back to the narrator.  He shimmies, he paws, he mutters.  This type of work continues for many hours until all goes quiet again.

Then the pitter-patter of rain envelopes the eardrums with a steady, quick beat.  The ferret stiffens in response.  There is a crack, and then thunder and lightning erupt precisely once.

The ferret cries…”Eureka!” and steps aside to reveal a monster.  But, not just any monster, but the loveable Bob Ross!  Pieced together from fallen men by the mad, feral ferret, and Mopey’s distant ancestor!

Bob Ross...or, Franken-Ross?

Bob Ross cries out, frees himself from a stunned ferret, and rushes wildly and unpredictably into the Canadian forest.

I know this hard to believe, and that’s why I provided you pause to consider what I have just divulged.  But, Bob Ross is Franken-Ross, and he has been painting happy trees for well over two-centuries now.

He may be gone now, but who knows maybe our children or our children’s children will sit down with their granola and watch a painter paint his happy trees to a whole new audience that never even knew of…FRAKEN-ROSS!

Bob Ross

Website Powered by

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: