by Matty Boy Anderson 05.11.07
Last Sunday morning we entered the office to discover that Lothar had escaped his swingin' bachelor cage a second time. Unlike his previous exodus, he made his way out of the office, venturing beyond the sound booths where we'd found him before (cozy in a corner). Lothar gave no reasons for busting out, although I surmise the yapping anus that passes for a dog next door might have played some part. Also we tried to watch "Hell Comes To Frogtown" the other night, which might have made him think we're bondage freaks and spooked him. I mean what the hell! I had to stop that shit half way through. It was like awful fetish porn.
Anyone who's visited the current Pod office at least once is probably expecting terrible news as they read this update. Here's why:
I'd like to point out that there's pressed concrete at the bottom of that 15 foot drop. I'd also like to let everyone know that Lothar is fine and dandy, and certainly not a squashed hamster. After we searched the entire loft for most of Sunday morning, we began to prepare for the possibility that Lothar had somehow snarfled his way into the big bad outside world. Then I heard the scratching. Loud scratching, from downstairs.
That, if you can't tell from my photographical wizardry, is a decorative tin bucket that says "TEXAS", stuffed with fake flowers of some sort. It was a gift to my girlfriend from her mom, who lives in Texas. Normally, it resides in a corner of the brick nearby, where it helpfully catches the spatter of rain from the leaky roof (to be fair, the roof is from the 1920s). Some months ago, Jenn moved it to the spot pictured above for no reason I can discern. Remember this detail as it is important later on.
In the bottom of the bucket, scratching fruitlessly to get out, was Lothar. I scooped him out with all the restraint I could muster. He shot me one of those hamster-specific looks that means "Yeah... this fell far short of my expectations." I returned him to his digs, where he tongued his water bottle for a good half hour, indicating he'd likely been stuck in that bucket for a while. We kept an extra sharp eye on him for a bit, double-checking the cage at night, but he was same ol' Lothar.
And this is where this becomes something other than another webpage where some dude writes about his pet.
That's where the bucket is. I don't know exactly how many bricks make up a foot but I think you get what I'm driving at.
There would be no way for Lothar to climb the wall of the bucket (he couldn't get out), and that's ignoring the fact that he would have no reason to get into the bucket in the first place.
UNLESS IT WAS TO BREAK HIS FALL.
Circled above, in a photo of the relevant living room corner, is the major piece of evidence in this theory. The corn, or "corm", if you will, was not there before Lothar's little escapade. One could argue he left it there before his daring drop. Maybe he was gonna come back and get it. At this point I put nothing past him.
Lothar could have fatally flopped onto the concrete anywhere along the hallway. We're talking almost 20 feet:
THE ONLY WAY that Lothar could have ended up in that bucket is if he snardled up the little window dealie in the corner there, scootled down the hallway and then- SOMEHOW- he was able to see the bucket with the fake flowers that he could drop into. I will stop making up dumb words now. And as I said before- the bucket wasn't even in its usual place. What if it hadn't been there, would he have still tried it? Or would he be forced to fashion a makeshift hangglider from a cocktail napkin? (Oh come on, you know that's adorable.)
That's right. My hamster is BADASS. Maybe he'll only live a couple years before his adorable little ticker winds out, but he is LIVING THEM, make no mistake. He's tearing the guts out of life like he tears pumpkin seeds out of a treatlog.
So, to recap, I've spent an entire update talking about my hamster, who made a death-defying drop into a bucket many feet below, in the dark. Many people would question the substance of such a thing, to which I would reply:
MY HAMSTER HAS CONTRIBUTED MORE TO LIFE THAN PARIS HILTON HAS.
And I'm right, too. My little $10 hammy who lives on seeds and nuts and sometimes eats his poop is worth more than Paris Hilton. I defy anyone to argue. You JUST READ about Lothar's AMAZING ADVENTURE. He freaking DROPPED what is, to his scale, like a hundred fundred feet. Paris Hilton does drugs, gets drunk and acts like a bitch. She can't even understand why she's going to jail. She thinks people want to hear her sing, or act in movies. Lothar probably has no idea why he dropped into that bucket but he did and it was FUCKING AWESOME.
So HELL YEAH he's better than Paris Hilton.
That's all I got for today. Get hyped. Movie comin. Fr seros.
-MBA
