Harvey, Private Hamster

And hit the streets I did, rain-slicked streets, lit by the unsteady glow of too many neon lights. I crawled those streets like I had so many times before, feeling the breeze carress my fur and my cajones drag on the rough pavement. It ain't easy being the toughest rodent in town. God only knows how many times I've proven that to be true...

But what of this SDRAM? I have that feeling I've crossed paths with an SDRAM somewhere. But where? And when? My memory fails me.

I awoke a long time later. I was face down in the street, only the light was bright and the pavement was dry. I felt like I'd been worked over by a couple of Guinea pigs on holiday. My stomach was bloated and my mouth tasted like the entire Russian Army had walked through it in their stocking feet. I struggled to lift my head and focus on the collage of colors in my eyes, colors all blurry and running together like so many flavors in a melting banana split.

And then I remembered. I looked at the butt in my trenchcoat pocket and it all made sense. That was no Llama I had smoked! The dame had slipped me a bit of the ol' Mary Jane, and I'd sucked down ice cream till I nearly split. I felt like a fool, but right now I needed a drink...

Yeah, the sky looked like a grifter's dream, with lots of bright colors and no sign on the monitor that said "Please Adjust Your Settings''...I had been through the blue screen o' death, and like it or not, was trying to adjust to the clear light of day.

The guineas had worked me over pretty good, all right. My .01 caliber Hamster Special was gone with the wind. Looked like I was on my own, and no backup disc to help me out.

It was a cold day in New York, and the wind carried knives. My bruises would wait, but the broad that walked by me wouldn't.

What was it that voice said..."the babe that could knock the socks off a rat wearin' army boots..." that was her...and she was walkin' on sweet little swivel-hip-ball-bearing strides...

Right into the bar... and the sign...the sign above...what I saw with my bruised, beat little rodent eyes....the neon sign... read...

The Techimo...

"We don't like your kind in here," said the old codger as he sized me up, spit on the bar, and polished his knobs. "I'd kick your rat's a** out myself, if'n I wasn't busy."

"Oh, let him stay, Charlie, he's kinda cute," she said, letting the "cute" hiss out of her mouth like so much overly hot coffee.

I sized her up. She was a big one all right, a beaver built as solid as a dam, but with just enough leaks to keep it interesting. I found myself staring at that flat, broad tail. I liked her. But first I needed that drink.

"I'll have an Evian" I said. Charlie looked disgusted, but slid the bottle of zero proof my way. The first sip tasted like the nectar of the Gods, like ambrosia...

It came to me in mid-swallow. "Hortense!", I blurted out.

"I may be a working girl, but disrespecting me and speculatin' as to my mental/physical state won't ordinarily get you anywhere. However, tonight, I just happen to be VERY tense." Her glare carried more messages than Hotmail.

It was clear I was writing checks I couldn't cash, but I had to make my move...

...so I sat down on the bar.

And what a bar...I've elbowed the mahogany a time or two before, but I'd never seen a place like this. Decor-wise, it wasn't much; a few Linux posters on the walls, a jukebox sitting in the corner serene as a Buddha, quietly spinning its shiny little prayer wheels through the scant few months the place had been here. One of the dancing gals jumped off of her vegetable crate, dropped a nickel into it, and it began to play something you could hear in rush hour downtown for free.

The smell of ozone was fighting a losing battle with the aroma of the broad's Hillshire Farms perfume.

"I haven't seen you around here before" she purred, and the wind from her eyelashes alone nearly knocked me over. This dame was a good argument for inter-species romance, as far as I was concerned. I was about to reply, when I became aware of a hulking goon sliding over slick as a piece of zucchini in pan full of Mazola.

"And, uh, can I help y'all..." he drawled. The muscles under his cheap Armani looked like they had muscles of their own. I played it cool.

"Oh, why, BBA..." she blurted, "it's just a hamster, it's, it's nothing at all, tee hee..." I noticed her eyes had grown a size to match those eylashes...

BBA, looked me over like a cat that hadn't eaten for a week.

His eyes narrowed as he began to clinch his fists in a repetitive motion that must have also signaled some type of brain wave action.

This by the way wasn't anything this guy was too familiar with...he seemed to get agitated, he licked his lips. When about that time the dame with the Hillshire farms perfume whispered into his ear.

I perked my ears trying to geta load of the sound commin from those gorgeous lips, protruding like a set of bumpers on a 57 Chevy.

I strained, at the sound... SDRAM,, I rubbed my little beady black eyes, still swollen out of shape from my last ice cream binge,

I blinked again.. All I could see was snow, like the snow in one of them 5 and dime snow balls that had the empire state building in it for the tourists to buy and take back to Indiana, forever having memories of winter in New York.....

There it was I heard it again, as the snow continued to swirl... a whispered word on the edge of my reality... SDRAM...

Just then, there was a commotion, and an attractive woman burst through the crowd and gave "BBA" the kind of treatment with her purse, that if this was a Warner Bros. cartoon, the guy woulda had stars flying in circles around his head.

"You just stay away from that hussy, mister, or I'll fix it so that..."

The big guy wailed piteously. Probably because the girl had him by the ear.

"But, Mary, honey, sweetie, mah lil' sugah bugah..." I didn't hear the rest, she dragged him away that fast. I stood up and decided to address the crowd...and what a crowd...

It was like the scene in that movie, where Han Solo and the walking carpet rub elbows with the weirdest creatures in the galaxy...believe me that scene had nothin' on THIS bunch...

Over by the pac-man game was this doll...a real babe all right, if you could overlook the green skin and...that..hair? I couldn't tell, in that light, but it looked like she may have been sportin' antennas...probably to improve the reception she was gettin' from the character she was talkin' to...nothing remarkable, if you could overlook the fact that he was oh, about 5-foot, 27-inches tall, yellow as a Tweetie Bird, thin as a rail, and when they both turned to look at me, I noticed he had a face like a pool of pancake batter fryin' in a pan...and...tusks...

Warthogs!! Ordinarily, I can't stand 'em, but this guy was different. Or maybe I was swayed by the fact that he had the babe's attention. Then again, maybe she was just slumming.

"Do you come here often?", I said, but I already knew the answer. She had DOOOOOOGG poop on her shoes. Either she was a regular at the Techimo or she had some very nasty habits. I avoided looking at her shoes...

But I couldn't help it. The shoes reminded me of another dame I'd known, someone far in my past, before the hard stuff, back when life was just a wheel and some sunflower seeds. Good times...

Her name was Rose and, yes, she was a thorny gal. Her scent was intoxicating, like that goofy gas they give you at the dentist's office. And just as expensive. Memories... Rose had taught me all those lessons you don't learn at school. The kinds of things that aren't mentioned in polite company, except, perhaps, when there's a Democrat in the White House. I needed more lessons, or maybe just a refresher course. I called her name softly, so softly, then all went black...



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