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gabriel
Love and ferrets and pretending to be a writer.


ferrets and fingers

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Mood:
Tired

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Reading: Dragon Qunitet, edited by Marvin Kaye
Weather: don't know yet, but I hope it's cooler so we can SLEEP
The ferret is: on tour

Here is a bit I wrote about something that rascally ferret did a few weeks ago. She's not in trouble any more, but I am watching her.

The ferret is: in trouble for trashing my gerbera daisy. It was brand new, having lived in my house for less than a full day, and it was the only light yellow one in the store. She chewed up its leaves, pulled it out of the pot, removed the soil from around the roots, strewed the soil (damp soil) all over the carpet. I looked to see whether gerbera daisies are poisonous to ferrets. Alas, they are not. Ha! No, I love that little shit.

I wrote a ministory yesterday. I get these little urges every once in awhile. I think of some small incident, torque it, and make a story out of it. This one I guess doesn't have a lot of plot to it. I need maybe to change it to something that does. I mean, it has a plot but it's not got a specific instance of the thing that happens. I wonder. People who have read it like it (two whole people). I'll paste it here and see if the other person who reads my journal likes it. No, he got it by email already. Oh well. I am putting it here anyway.


Light-fingered

After the eye-for-an-eye people took over the world, laws changed, yet liberal bleeding-hearts prevailed, thinking a hand for stealing too harsh. So it was a finger instead -- the light-fingered became truly lighter of finger.

She applied for jobs, weeping as she went, and was turned down repeatedly by tight-lipped interviewers, in spite of her protest, "It was cutting a cantaloupe that did it, I swear!"

The End

So. I bet you can't guess what inspired that one.

My finger, by the way, is getting better. It is not nearly so bad as I thought it was in the first five days after the incident when I was still too wimpy to look at it except for a quick glance when Gregg -- the darling man who babies me whenever I ask -- was changing the bandage or washing it for me. Yes, it's a tiny bit shorter than my other pinky, but who says fingers have to be round on the end and all the same length? I am still not typing with it, but it'll come.

As far as playing the violin goes, I never played worth a flip anyway. Guitar, ditto. Piano enough end will grow back for. I think. I hope.

I am such a dramatic SOB. This finger will be just fine.


......I had to go back and add a title, and it made me think of Snowy and how she relates to my fingers. She tried to steal my bandage when I had one. Yesterday when I was on the floor exercising she got her little teeth into my engagement ring. She wants everything. She did manage to take my Walkman, dragging it my the headphones, almost into her den but couldnt get the thing over the threshold.

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