R.I.P Hammy, I knew thee well...


My mother bought my brother and i hamsters as our first pets ( we wanted a dog, but she didn't trust us to take care of it). I must have been about 7 or 8, my brother 4 or 5. I called mine Hammy, and my brother named his pac-man, but then changed it to superman. Anyhoo, we we're as happy as pigs in shit ( pun intended) and spent as much time with them as we could. For a time. One day, i remember that we have hamsters. It had been quite some time since we'd cared for them, so i made my way to the basement to check up on them. Only to find Hammy's head buried in Superman's chest cavity eating out his insides. I immediadely fethched my brother to gloat/laugh/torture etc. He freaked out and went to Mom, who promptly , in disgust, grabbed Hammy by the tail, droppped him in the toilet... and flushed.
For some time after that i was afraid to poo, for fear of Hammy coming back up the pipes to bite my little nads off in twisted revenge. Oddly enough, we got a dog after that.
(goorf, Sat 3 Sep 2005, 0:53, Reply)