Having a hamster superglued to your arm sounds a lot more amusing than it actually has turned out to be. I was merely trying to think of some hip new fashion excessories, so I experiemented with gluing rodents to my body. Who hasn't? There was no getting the humping little squealer off, though...
The problems started to become apparent almost immediatly with the pooping and peeing all over me... and there was the incessent humping -- which ended in embarrassingly loud, squeaky orgasms followed by laying back half dead for bouts of full body twitching punctuated with what I can only describe as explosive flatulence . . I was kind of relieved the morning I awoke and found Ruby Dog sitting beside me on the bed, calmly chewing away on a bloody, stinky ball of furry eviscera on my arm.
Death does not become a hamster. The smell is really getting to M. She is making me sit by the window with my arm hanging out -- to add to my humiliation, a small doillie covers the part of my arm where the hamster intestines and lower skeleton are pretty much all still stuck there... people keep waving at me, and M. won't let me give them the finger anymore.
