“Fungus?” she queried. Who was this fool?
“Fungus is comfort food for hamsters. Many often take a bit to bed to ward evil dreams.”
“Would you stake your life on that?”
“We all have stakes to protect,” he said, mysteriously
“Here,” he said, “let me have the little rat, I mean rodent,” and then seeing Natasha’s eyes about to flash, said, “I mean the little fellow.” She hesitated and then, unable to resist his larcenous charm, released the cage to him. Their eyes met. Full of rats-rodents. She acquiesced after a titanic struggle. He put the cage on the Hulk Hogan shatter-proof formica-top examination table where the deer and the antelope play – leaving behind their scat.
He hated the Formica tabletop; he hated his parents. He hated animals, and he had never seen an undead hamster before and was unsure if he wanted to see one now.
He had become a veterinarian to please his parents who loved animals, and so did he until that fateful day. Enough of that. Keep them guessing. That’s what he had learned in the Ted Bundy School of Deviant Psychology for Deviants. Kill, kill, kill!
He didn’t like what he saw. Should he admit to this woman whose money he wanted to steal that he didn’t know a damned thing about undead hamsters? Or should he lie through his teeth and say he did? Who was he kidding?
“Hmm,” he said, clearing his handsome throat Natasha imagined would be globally profiled on computer screens everywhere, “this is an extreme case of role-playing narcolepsy.” “Narcolepsy is a disturbance of the sleep-wake cycles,” he suavely explained, “characterized by excessive sleepiness in the daytime and also suddenly falling asleep during any activity.”
“What about the black cape, slightly soiled dinner jacket, and those little fangs you can see just under his tiny otherwise normal teeth?” she queried.
“Playing the part of a diurnally challenged sleeper is the role your hamster has adopted in dealing with his narcolepsy. He thought that would be the end of it.” Hadn’t he used enough big words in this clever but completely bogus explanation?
“I did not sew that set of clothes,” she said.
“But you did make that matchbox coffin.”
“Why yes.”
“Perhaps, you suffer from a disorder called sleep walking in which you walk and sew when you are asleep and dress hamsters in interesting garb? You have to be asleep,” he added.
“Most people suffer from a disorder called awake walking when they think they are sleep sleeping,” she smartly replied.
“What’s that? Run that through me again,” he replied, confused.
He could not help but notice her unusual garb. She looked like a flat-chested clown. But her eyes! Why, they could make mincemeat out of his genitals and serve it up as a salad!
She noticed his noticing and vowed to take revenge after she blew him and then would toss away the used Kleenex.
“I’ll run you through with a sword,” she replied.
“On the other hand…”
“I have no trouble sleeping sleeping when awake and no trouble being awake when sleeping, sleeping. Of I do have the munchies in the middle of the night, I go to the fridge to take some meat salad to munch on. I have a yen for salad.”
