Gerbil Post Humous CabaretWhen 15 by Gerbil (Bartholemew) died, killed by his own brother (Reg) in an act of euthanasia (Bart was very old and on his last legs). My Gerbils being rather popular fellows (I was the only one out of all my friends to have a pet) a small service was held after school for the formal burial. After a few softly spoken words and a small bottle of cheap wine someone had managed to nick of their parents the mood was somewhat sombre it was at this point morbid curiosity set in. Carefully Bart was removed from his makeshift coffin and we all stood gorping at him. The wines was perhaps a bad idea as someone note that if you held his front legs up so it appears as if he stands on his rear legs he looked like a puppet. After discussing the idea Bart's corpse was indigyfied as we made it dance the can can, sing Baggy Trousers and even make an attempt an YMCA all whilst we giggled insanely.
I had brought Reg down to watch, and, so taken was he by the proceedings, he suffered a massive heart attack so too was commended to the earth, but only after a round of Kung Fu Charlie (Reg won, he was in better condition).
Also we used to keep Guinea Pigs (their hutches were in out garage cos we never used it), one of which made its bid for freedom one night and made it as far as our driveway, unfortunately it was at the same time my brother was cycling back from the pub on his new race bike. Being slightly inebriated and it being dark he didn't see the aforementioned Guinea Pig and ran it over. The image is made all the more gruesome by the fact that the racing bike had very thin wheels which had virtually cut the little blighter in two. Suffice to say it wasn't very Steve McQueen.
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Wed 15 Oct 2003, 19:25,
archived)
I had brought Reg down to watch, and, so taken was he by the proceedings, he suffered a massive heart attack so too was commended to the earth, but only after a round of Kung Fu Charlie (Reg won, he was in better condition).
Also we used to keep Guinea Pigs (their hutches were in out garage cos we never used it), one of which made its bid for freedom one night and made it as far as our driveway, unfortunately it was at the same time my brother was cycling back from the pub on his new race bike. Being slightly inebriated and it being dark he didn't see the aforementioned Guinea Pig and ran it over. The image is made all the more gruesome by the fact that the racing bike had very thin wheels which had virtually cut the little blighter in two. Suffice to say it wasn't very Steve McQueen.