A Story

Growing up, my mother was allergic to everything so the only pet I was allowed to have was a hamster. My first hamster was named Howie and he lived for an ungodly amount of time. He was more like a dog than a hamster because we'd play every after school and he'd even take naps with me. The only time he ever ran away, it was simply to nest in a toy garage set in my room. I found him the night he disappeared and he looked at me like, "What? I'm taking a vacation." He had even gone so far as to pack a heaping amount of food and nesting material in his cheeks for the long journey because he had actually made himself a little bed in the corner parking space.

Regardless, Howie lived a long, full life. I'd like to say he died from natural causes, but the truth is, he made some bad acquaintances during his little adventure. Word is he got into it with a rogue gang that hid out in the radiator shafts of the building, a bunch of shiftless neer-do-wells who went by the gang name of "The Wheelies". Anyhoo, I found him one fateful morning dead. He was shot multiple times. 'Till this day, I authorities have been on the lookout for this guy- Bandito "The Cheekstuffer" Smith:


If I ever see that rat-bastard I know what I'll say.

"Hello. My name is Tempy. You killed my hamster. Prepare to die."

Okay half of that story is true. I just won't tell you which half...