Thursday, August 01, 2002

 
Darryl’s hamster had the blues.
No one quite knew why.
It might be because of something it ate. Or it might be something wrong in its environment. Or the first symptoms of a complicated and lengthy hamster-disease, which would bring the creature to an even earlier death than is customary for hamsters. Or it might just be perfectly ordinary hamster behavior, developed over immense numbers of hamster generations in order to enhance the species’ chances of survival in harsh and unforgiving environments, like Darryl’s apartment.
There were a great number of theories, most of which were provided by Darryl’s girlfriend, Hannah, who considered herself to be quite good with animals, as evidenced by the fact that she’d once had a pair of goldfishes, Pudgy and Mutt,who survived for two years. Occasionally Darryl would suggest that the unnatural vigor of these fishes were the result not of Hannah’s loving and nurturing hand, but rather that of some odd and frightening mutations, which had tweaked the DNA of poor Pudgy and unfortunate Mutt until they became not as much goldfishes as veritable freaks, miserable mutants, a dreadful monster duo which haunted the very dreams of fishes everywhere…
And by then he’d usually be interrupted, by something hitting him midsection and a harsh “Shut up!”, followed by, “And by the way, fish don’t dream!”.
“How do you know that?”, he wondered serenely.
“I just do.” She returned to watching the hamster, which was observing the back end of its cage patiently.
“It actually looks sad.”, she said. “Here, widdle hamster, here…”. She put her finger through the bars and touched its fur. The hamster didn’t move. It just frowned, as it was wont to do.
“Come to think of it”, said Darryl, “maybe it’s no wonder the little bastard’s depressed. I mean, look at him. He lives in a cage, never gets anything to eat except vegetables, most of which are half-rotten anyway…”
“That’s ‘cause you never eat any vegetables. You’re like a little kid.”
Darryl was unfazed by the interruption.
“…his own crap, and I mean that quite literally, his own crap sticks to the back of him when he goes. Think of it, Hannah. How would you like to have your own feces sticking to your back every time you decided to go somewhere?”
“That’s disgusting. You need to bathe him more often.”
“Well, it dries and falls off, so I don’t hafta. And he doesn’t have any pals, only me, and sometimes you, and we’re not much fun…and he never gets laid.”
“Darryl!”
“What’s so shocking about that? As far as I know, the poor creature hasn’t had a lady in his life. How long have I had him for, ten months? Before that he lived with his mom. And about forty billion little hamster-siblings.”
“Maybe he’s been sterilized.”
“Don’t think so. They would have told me, wouldn’t they?”
“Did you ask?”
“No…I just thought they kind of told you when you made the purchase.”
“When? Here’s your bag, here’s the change, and by the way, we made sure to cut off his testicles?”
“No, well, I don’t know, but don’t they usually provide some information like that? And in any case they sort of expect these animals to spend the rest of their lives inside of a cage, don’t they? It’s, you know, standard hamster procedure. See the cage and then you die.”
“Well, I think you have to neuter them anyway. Or their pee stinks really bad.”
“I thought that was cats.”
Hannah sighed. “I can’t believe you don’t know if he’s sterilized or not. Do you even know it’s really a he?”
Darryl grinned.
“You know, I’m not even sure about that.”
“Darryl! No wonder the poor thing is depressed! He doesn’t even know what gender he is!”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure he knows”, Darryl said jovially. “It’s just me who’s not so sure. I mean. He feels like a he. If I could go by my famous male intuition, he’s a he. But maybe he disagrees.”
“Now I see why you never named him.” Hannah stared at him.
“No, honey, the reason I didn’t name him was because I couldn’t come up with anything good myself, and everyone else’s suggestions pretty much sucked.”
“I liked my name.” She sounded hurt.
“I did too, milady. It’s an excellent name. It just so happens that I have a hard time visualizing myself as referring to that little fur-ball as “Frederick” for the rest of his life.”
“Freddie for short.”
“Freddie’s even worse. It sounds like the red-headed one in a movie about a gang of abusive little bandits who terrorize their grumpy old neighbor.”
“Do you have to be so sarcastic about everything? But it kind of does, doesn’t it? How awful. I’ll think of something new. Something androgynous.”
“Androgynous? What, you want him to get even more confused about his sexual identity?”
“Only reason he’s confused about his sexual identity is ‘cause you never bothered to find out his gender in the first place. And how do we know he’s confused about his sexual identity? It might be anything. Like the diet. Or a tumor.”
“Well.” Darryl shrugged. “Only one way to find out, really. We’ll take him to a female hamster, lock the two of them up for a suitable amount of hours, and if nothing happens we know he’s either a she or, well…confused. So to speak.”
“That’s terrible. How do you imagine the female would feel? Like a test object, used and then thrown away.”
“Well. If she’s been without sex for as long as poor ol’ Mr. Ambigious over here, I should think she’s happy with what she gets.”
Hannah laughed in spite of herself.
“And if she doesn’t get any?”
“Then my notorious male intuition got it dead wrong.”
“Like the time you thought Meg was pregnant?”
“Sort of. Except without the whole slapping incident.”
“You really deserved it, you know. I can’t believe you’d tell her that. You’re quite a moron.”
“I know, I know, but how was I supposed to know? She looked like she’d been sick for days, and she’d been putting on weight.”
“She’d been sick ‘cause her fiancé dumped her two weeks earlier for some Greek exchange student. She’d been putting on weight for the same reason. It was the first night she’d mustered the ability to go outside her own door. And then you, you stupid, tactless…”
“I know, I know. But that’s forgotten by know, isn’t it? I mean, we all make mistakes, right?”
“She still talks about you as The Asshole on the phone”, said Hannah heartily.
Darryl frowned.
“Terribly insulting woman.”, he muttered. “Can’t imagine why anyone…alright, alright. Far as I see it, if nothing happens with a lady, we’ll bring him to a male hamster and see if he – or she, thankyouverymuch, I noticed that, or she, can’t get hi-her- can’t get its kicks off. Hey, who knows? In nine months we might have a whole collection of little hamster babies.”
“I don’t think the incubation period for a hamster is even close to nine months, Darryl.”
“Whatever. In any case, wouldn’t it be fun? Itsy, bitsy widdle hamster babies to love and care for, and then maybe sell to science…”
“You’re sick.”
“No, I’m serious. Have you seen how they grew a human ear on a rat? That would be really cool, maybe they’d give us one, and we could call him Eerie…”
“Oh, that wasn’t even funny. I mean, not even close. I mean, I’ve heard bad jokes, but that was just awful.”
“I try.” Darryl scratched his head. “So you wanna try?”
“And hook up your hamster? Sure. Turn off the music and put some real clothes on.”
Darryl looked down.
“What’s wrong with my Lou Reed shirt?”, he wondered. “And can’t we finish listening first? It’s The Jam. “All Mod Cons.” You know, the one with “English Rose” on it.”
“You haven’t washed that shirt in a week. And you know your music bores me. I like Pink Floyd.”
Darryl looked horrified.
“This is Lou Reed. You can’t wash Lou Reed! That’s heresy! And you know what I think about Pink Floyd. They’re the most boring, soulless…”
She laughed.
“I know, I know, untalented, pretentious band in the universe. But you know what? I don’t care. I like them. They have nice melodies.”
“There’s more to a band than nice melodies, Hannah.”
“No, there isn’t. Not for me. And I like it like that. There are more important things in life than your record collection.”
“Like what?”
“Like finding a gender for your hamster.”
She was right, Darryl had to admit. For the moment being, at least.

*
It wasn’t easy.
First Hannah suggested they’d go back to the pet shop, but then Darryl reminded her that he was broke and that renting hamsters probably wasn’t an option.
“And besides, what would I do with the two extra hamsters once the experiment was over?”
“Give them away?”
“Oh, sure. Would you like one?”
“Me?”. Hannah made a sound in the back of her throat. “God, no. There’s no room. And I don’t even want to think about the costs.”
“See? I’d have to kill them.”
Darryl sighed and leaned over the wheel to his Honda.
“This is why they need to rent out pets. It’d make a great business idea. Rent a pet. Perfect for those horrible kids who bug their parents for a pet and then immediately neglect it as soon as they get it. Renting one would keep one with them just long enough to show them that they couldn’t take care of it properly.”
“It would be horribly cruel to the pet.”
Darryl nodded.
“You have a point there.” He lightened up a bit. “But smaller animals, like fish and reptiles…”
“Even they recognize their environment. You’d screw them up for life.”
“I probably would, wouldn’t I?”, Darryl muttered. “But that’s the fun part.”
“Shut up and keep your eyes on the road. You know you can’t drive.”
“Driving”, Darryl said as he sped through an intersection on the very edge of the yellow light, “is a brutal and dehumanizing practice. Quite barbarian, I must say. If I could chose, we’d all walk. It’d be much safer that way.”
“Safer for those who get in your way, certainly.” Hannah shrunk back in her seat as Darryl ignored a Stop sign and miraculously escaped unharmed. A red Fiat honked sourly after them.
“Noisy bastard.” Darryl turned up the volume a little bit.
“Oh, no, Darryl, please. I can’t stand another dose of The Talking Pants or whatever they call themselves…”
“They’re called The Talking Heads, silly, and this isn’t them, this is Blondie. Can’t you tell?”
“Are they the one with the girl singing?”
Darryl groaned visibly. “Yes. Her name is Debbie Harry.”
“Don’t be so elitist. I can’t help that I don’t know.”
“This is important to me. Guys need something to obsess over. I was never into sports. Or would you prefer a sweaty oaf with bad breath sitting in your couch demanding more beer and a quickie at halftime?”
“Maybe I would. Better than someone who watches VH-1…”
Darryl was shocked. “I do not!”
“Who watches VH-1”, Hannah continued, quite delighted, “and tries to cover it up so I won’t find out. I’ve seen you switch over so many times to the Independent Film Channel whenever someone gets into the room, but the truth is you’re sitting there watching Hootie And The Blowfish.”
“It’s not – I do not! Occasionally I will watch, yes, but only when…”
“And the other day you were watching Behind The Music: Journey. You were watching Journey! I saw you!”
“I didn’t! I was just flipping through channels!”
“Liar.” Hannah laughed. “But really, turn the volume down. Think about our little passenger. His ears might get hurt.”
“Or maybe it’ll cheer him up. He needs a steady dose of something – maybe it’s music.”
“He gets enough music as it is living with you. Turn it down. It might hurt his ears.”
Darryl obeyed.
They were silent for a while. Darryl managed to avoid getting killed long enough to ask;
“So who should we go to? Do we know anyone with hamsters?”
Hannah sat silent for a while.
“Riley! Riley’s got hamsters!”
Darryl looked at her. “Riley? But, I mean – they’re not – are you sure those are hamsters?”
“Not really”, Hannah admitted. “But they’re sort of similar. And it’s not like we got anything to lose anyway? Let’s go visit Riley. He’ll be glad we stopped by.”

*
“You can’t stay for very long”, Riley whined. “I think Sarah’s coming over.”
“We just want to borrow one of your hamsters.”, Hannah said.
“Hamsters? I don’t have any hamsters.”
“Got rodents, don’t you?”, Darryl said cheerfully. “Litttle furry buggers with nerve problems?”
Riley glared at him sourly.
“Yes, but I don’t think they’re suitable for – for whatever purpose it is you’re desiring them for, which I suspect is highly depraved. What do you want with my rats?”
“They’re going to be part of a grand social experiment, Riley dearest”, Darryl said and slumped back in a green couch. “Not only are we going to, A, check the attraction level between hamster X and mice Y, sub-clause I, in case of attraction also sexual procedure, sub-clause II, in case of sexual procedure also offspring,, but also, B, determine the chromosomes of hamster X which have been remained mysteriously unknown thanks to the general incompetence of the storekeepers from which I bought him. “
Riley stared at him.
“You can’t mate a hamster and a mouse.”, he said. “It wouldn’t work. It’s against nature.”
“It’d be worth a try.”
“Lions and tigers can mate”, Hannah said helpfully. “I don’t see why not hamsters and mice.”
“Lions and tigers can mate, yes”, said Riley, “but that doesn’t mean it’s desirable. You could get screwed in the ass by a donkey, but would you really want to?”
“I don’t have a choice”, Darryl responded. “I live in a democracy. Getting screwed by donkeys is all we do around here…”
“Your political commentary leaves much to be desired”, said Riley.
“Isn’t he boring?”, said Hannah. “I hate it when he thinks he’s witty.”
“You two have no taste for sophisticated humor”, Darryl muttered, “and in any case it’s not what we were talking about. Hand us the rodent, good Riley, lest we shall use force.”
“Weren’t you listening, you dumb bastard? It wouldn’t work. There’s no way a hamster and a mice would ever get together. When was the last time you ever got turned on by a chimpanzee? It’s the same relationship. Close, but not enough. And besides, I need those mice. Pedro’s supposed to be fed in two days.”
Pedro was Riley’s giant boa constrictor; a camouflage-colored reptile of phlegmatic disposition who was the real reason behind Riley’s rodents. Pedro was fed every two weeks, an occasion which was a major anticlimax for those of Riley’s friends who had witnessed it; a quick snap and then it was over, with none of the gore and mysticism of the Discovery Channel.
“To hell with Pedro”, Darryl said gaily, “and how’s the old chap doing these days?” he added hastily when he saw Riley’s expression darken. “Still, you know, green? Keeping him in trim? Slender as always?”
“He’s a beauty.”, Riley said proudly. “You can see him, if you like – I’ll bring him out for you, he’s in the other room.”
“And there he should stay”, Darryl said, “and be merry. I don’t think he desires my company. Best leave the old man alone. I always hesitated to tell you this, Riley old man, but Pedro can be a frightfully boring conversational partner.”
“I’m sure he can”, Riley said. “Then again, isn’t that your judgement of most anyone who isn’t willing to talk about you for hours at an end?”
“Riley”, Darryl said, “you do me much wrong. How can you judge me so poorly? I’m the humblest of the humble – almost dangerously so, says my psychiatrist. Right now, for example, my mind is fixated only with the needs of others – specifically, those of poor little animals…”
“Poor little animals, indeed”, Riley said, “who you are going to abuse psychologically and force into sexual actions. Isn’t it enough that you have depraved your own poor little animal? Do you have to ruin the last days of mine?”
Darryl shook his head sadly.
“I’m just trying to bring some happiness into the end of their lives”, he said, “a tender touch, a warm caress…”
“By a hamster. And besides, even if you would get them together, you sicko, do you know how rodents screw? There’s a reason there’s so many of them. It’s a three-second-business. Up, in, out. Like a polio shot, but without all the emotional involvement.”

“How do you know all this?”, Darryl said with sudden interest. “You’re like Scientific American all of a sudden. Do you spend your days watching the sexual activities of smaller mammals?”
Riley huffed.
“It’s common knowledge, you pervert.”, he said. “Everybody knows mice don’t have much of a sex life. It’s on Discovery all the time – right between the snake shows and the insane Australian.”
“The insane Australian is all I ever watch”, Darryl said. “I find him very relaxing. But if you say so, old mate, perhaps we shall have to give up. Pity. I was expecting a bit more out of you. Any way. Where’s your record collection?”
“Right over there, by the window.”, Riley said tiredly. “Next to the, you know, stereo.”
Darryl was already halfway through the room.
“He always does that”, Riley said. “Why?”.
“High Fidelity habit.”
“I was doing this before High Fidelity.”, Darryl said, “and I see no reason to quit. Now, let’s see here…NOW, Clapton – oh God, new Clapton, The Beatles, some dance shit, goa crap, trance crap, more electronic farts…burned, burned, burned, another compilation…Riley my man, this is quite horrid, really. Where’s your soul, your punk, your garage? Where’s Motown and Stax, where’s the new wave? Why oh why, America, do you hurt me so?”
Riley sighed.
“Darryl, you fascist”, he began. “Everyone doesn’t have to like the same music as you do. I certainly don’t. You eat up everything NME and Q and whatthehell…what was that other one, How To Be An Intolerant Asshole…”
“Mojo, perhaps?”
“Yeah, whatever. In any case, you’ve swallowed every lie they ever told you about what’s good music, and now you’ve become their most rabid disciple. You’re the Hamas of the music world, like a bomb in a crowded street. Nobody’s safe ever. And the funny thing is, you’re the biggest opportunist. Did you ever listen to anything that wasn’t critically approved?”
“Just because I happen to agree with the finest minds of musical journalism of today, “Darryl responded, “does not mean I am willing to take criticism from a man who owns more than two NOW compilations. You’re just belittling me from your own lack of taste."
“Those NOW compilations are about five years old”, Riley answered back. “I was young then. I was stupid. I listen to trance these days.”
“You think that’s better?”
“Darryl, for god’s sake…” Riley was getting truly angry. Darryl hurried to calm him down.
“No worries, old man, no worries, you know I’m just teasing you. So where do you keep the liquor in this burg? Myself I’m driving, but my girlfriend here is as thirsty as a camel.”
“I’m not thirs-“ Hannah began but Darryl interrupted her.
“Got any Heineken? I’m a sucker for good beer, you know that. It won’t hurt if I take half a glass. Hannah, you can share it with me.”
“I got a couple of beers in the refrigerator”, Riley said hesitantly, “and I guess I could…”
“Perfect! It’s Sunday afternoon. What better way to spend a lovely Sunday afternoon than by sharing a few beers with your two closest friends? Crank them out, Riley my man.”
“You wanna see if there’s anything on TV we can watch?”, Riley asked. “I think there’s a game at five.”
“Sport bores me to tears”, Darryl said happily, “and I’m against television for moral reasons – excepting the Australian- but if you children want to watch, you have my blessings. I’ll sit in the couch and disturb you.”
Riley went to get the beers. Hannah turned on the television. Darryl leaned back.
“You’re not going to drink, are you?”, Hannah hissed. “That would be stupid.”
“Of course not”, Darryl mumbled. “I just want old Riley to have a few – he’s so thin, he gets a buzz easily. And if he gets involved in the game, maybe he won’t notice if I…sneak around a bit.”
“You’re going to…” Hannah’s eyes grew wide. “You thief.”
“He’s got like twenty of them, he won’t notice….oh, hello, Riley. Back from the kitchen, I see – and with a few ice-cold ones. Beautiful work, my friend. Just beautiful.”
“What were you two whispering about?” Riley asked suspiciously.
“Oh, Hannah was just asking where the bathroom was”, Darryl said.
“Down the hall, second door to the left”, Riley said.
“Thanks”, Hannah responded and kicked Darryl on the shin as she got up and left.
“So sit down, have a Bud, enjoy the game”, Darryl said. “It proves to be a good afternoon for the – who’s playing? – Well, it proves to be a good afternoon for either one of them, I’d say.”
Riley leaned back in his chair and took a few gulps.