A buddy of mine invited me over to shoot the shit and watch some movies. I opted to not go over; instead I decided to clean the hamster cages. It seemed like a good idea at the time because Sam & Frodo were starting to develop quite an odor, the stench was very reminiscent to that of a toppled porta-potty. A cleaning was in order. Sometimes I do things without thinking about the consequences. I have torn sinks out of walls, assaulted my fair share of urinals, shoved one ton dumpsters down a hill, sucked on the breast of a four hundred pound woman and even once, yes just once, let a young lady stick her finger up my butt and wiggle it around and around and around. Save for the last example, which I enjoyed considerably (the poop I had shortly afterwards was magnificent) I came to regret each instance and countless other poor decisions as well. I thought Bob had learned better, to know when enough was enough, and most definitely when to not act like a complete and utter ass.
I was wrong.
I took Sam out of his cage and as I was placing him his hamster ball, he looked deeply into my eyes as if to say; your eyes hold endless mysteries, my lord, please clean my odorous abode and make it fit for a servant of the divine. I could not deny such a request, even if it was made only with his eyes, so I vowed to wipe away the feces, urine and stale food, making his temple to me, his God, worthy once more. My first mistake was to clean the cage in the kitchen sink. Of course I emptied out all the loose bedding, food and dry shit but there still remained a considerable amount of grime. Actually grime isn't terribly accurate; what remained was a gelatin mass of shit, piss, food, hair and wood chips. I truly expected the unholy mass to demonstrate some sort of mobility because it looked, and most definitely smelt, like something driven out of the bowels of hell by the Devil himself. Thankfully, there was no discernable movement, so I delved into the task at hand. I soaked the molded plastic in a soapy bath and was overjoyed to feel the mass come loose and slip away. If only Lovecraft knew that it only took soap, warm water, and elbow grease to overcome that which bumps the night. Of course he knew all too well and soon, to my horror, so would I.
After drying the cage and placing fresh bedding within it; I gently took Sam from the ball and placed him within the Temple of Bob. He shot me a strange glance, one filled with pity and shame. I was taken aback, at first, and then became quite irate. How dare this furry infidel look upon his God within any short of admiration and fear in his heart? Yet, something about his look unnerved me, it actually terrified me. I quelled these thoughts for what sort of hamster God would I be if I let the furry little beasts see indecision and fear in my eyes. After ensuring Sam was comfortable within my shrine, I went back to the sink in order to tidy things up. Something stirred within the drain, at first I thought a few pieces of bedding had wedged themselves inside, which would easily be taken care of with a couple jabs of a fork. It was not stray wood chips in the drain, or at least not wood chips alone, it was, in fact, the gelatin mass and it had somehow found a way to grow. What would I do? What could I do? Madness threatened to overwhelm me until a strange clicking broke the spell. Sam was chewing on his cage in such way as if to say "Awake my Lord or the beast will consume you." I threw caution to the wind, scooped up the throbbing mass and placed it in the garbage. I had won. Or, had I?
Frodo's cage came next and it appeared to be no big thing. Even after discovering a similar collusion of hamster refuse to Sam's within the plastic walls, I knew no fear. Was I not the same man, no, God, who had slain a similar beast minutes before. I had nothing to fear and even decided to tempt fate itself and opted to not clean out the cage before washing it down. I left all the bedding inside and threw it in the bathtub. I decided the easiest, and most fitting, way to cleanse the cage was with a cascade of water. I turned the faucet up to the highest setting, took a step back and let the water do its work. I mentioned earlier about poor decision making skills and this was destined to be yet another example.
Ehhh......and it smells even worse.
It only took forty minutes, two rolls of paper towels, and swallowing my own bile to clean up the mess. Lovecraft was right; there was no way to fight the madness.
Go to Hell