Ferret Escapes from Cage, This Boob Misses It!

6 Feb

Last night Jennifer and I spent two hours–two loud, smelly hours–in a bar called the Stagger Inn. (Get it? Stagger in, as in enter the bar drunk? Ha Ha Ha.) “It’s more like the Stagger Out,” she said as we left at 11:15, passing a row of swaying, frozen smokers. I, however, walked out with great poise and bodily control. If I was drunk it was from sensory overload, not the two beers I drank just to keep myself from hiding under the table with my thumb in my mouth. Sticking a sober social phobe in a loud bar is much like–um, let me think–just picture a three-legged wildebeest limping around Botswana. Here is a video of a lion eating a wildebeest. It’s disgusting, so DO NOT click on it. Eww.

We were in this bar because our youngest, Ainsley, is a Daisy, the initial level of Girl Scouting, and Jennifer is the troop leader. The co-leader of the troop sings and plays the guitar in a band. Last night, they rocked the Stagger Inn. I wasn’t dragged in there through the snow by my hair; I went willingly because it’s good for me to get out and do things like that, to be around–you know–other humans. Strange humans.

Okay, did you catch that title up there? Yeah, so far you’ve read nothing about ferrets, just a wildebeest and a lion, and nothing about a cage. From now on in this short piece of writing we’re talking about ferrets, but when I say “ferrets” I’m talking about a certain bar patron’s boobs. We’ll call her Sally. Sally’s boobs. When I write boobs, I don’t mean, switching to the singular, “an ignorant or foolish person,” like “Sally brought her new boyfriend; he was a real boob.” I mean “breast: either of two soft fleshy milk-secreting glandular organs on the chest of a woman,” like “Look at Sally’s two big boobs.” Finally, “the cage” will from now on refer to Sally’s shirt. So, to recap: Sally’s boobs are the ferrets; Sally’s shirt is the cage. Believe me: it’s just better this way. If you’re confused after this nutty paragraph, go back and re-read. I’ll wait … okay, let’s proceed.

We were sitting at a big table with nine other people when Sally walked in and made it ten. Let me talk about Sally without sounding mean. How can I do this? Hmm, well, sally had a small–an abnormally small–mouth with two little teeth sticking out a bit. If you smacked me in the face with a brick, tied me up, and forced me to tell you what kind of an animal Sally resembled I would say “Chipmunk! Chipmunk! Leave me alone! For Christ’s sake, a Chipmunk!”

As soon as she sauntered up I noticed the ferrets peeking out of the cage. The ferrets were looking around, probably thinking, “Wow this is a groovy little bar. I wonder if the kitchen is still open.” It was dark so I kept staring. (Sometimes, in bars, I see things that are not really there, like civility, self-control and sobriety.) I squinted. I extended my whole head forward without moving my body to get my eyes three inches closer. I un-squinted, squinted, un-squinted, squinted. Yep, the cage seemed faulty, not designed to hold two ferrets. I had sensed hundreds of other ferrets in the bar, but they were safely caged.

I left Jennifer at the table to get two more beers. This hellish process: fighting through the crowd to get to the bar, jockeying for position, trying to get the bartender’s attention, screaming loud enough for him to hear me, and fighting my way back is fodder for a whole other blog post in itself. It took fifteen minutes!

It shouldn’t have surprised me that a ferret escaped during this time I was away, but it does say something about how my life is going, that I would miss it. As Jennifer explained it through many o’ giggles, the ferret (she didn’t say “ferret,” she said “boob”) escaped near my chair while Sally talked to my table neighbor, the mother of the Daisy troop co-leader. Luckily, the alert mother pointed out the escaped ferret quickly and Sally calmly tucked the ferret back into the cage. If Jennifer would have volunteered to fetch the drinks, I was in such a position that I may have been attacked by the desperate ferret. And I was wearing my favorite sweater. So, I dodged that bullet.

Then the band played and I watched them. But I also kept an eye on Sally and her wild ferrets and the faulty cage.

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8 Responses to “Ferret Escapes from Cage, This Boob Misses It!”

  1. Redneckprincess February 6, 2011 at 7:26 pm #

    Hahahahah….oh my god…that is hilarious!! I loved it 🙂 Thanks for the chuckle.

    • fightn4it February 7, 2011 at 10:31 am #

      Thanks!

  2. linda February 6, 2011 at 7:33 pm #

    well that certainly is a new discription of them!

    • fightn4it February 7, 2011 at 10:32 am #

      Breaking new ground here…

  3. Dawn February 6, 2011 at 8:04 pm #

    Ferrets?

    I liked the wildebeest reference, though. I wondered if my recent wildebeest reference spawned this one, so I had to search your blog to see if you had written about wildebeest before and was excited to find one mentioned in Holy Guano. That was a good one. Funny stuff.

    Ferrets? Really?

    • fightn4it February 7, 2011 at 10:35 am #

      Yes, probably. Your reference was hilarious and has been on my mind. It’s a great word!

  4. ozarkmomma February 6, 2011 at 9:56 pm #

    Ya know,I have heard boob’s called many things but never ferrets. I will never look at another female’s ferrets the same way again and I will never look at a real ferret the same way again.

    I am also happy to hear you escaped being mauled anid attacked by the escaped ferret, I hear they can be quite mean little (or big depending upon breeding and other important things)things.

    • fightn4it February 7, 2011 at 10:34 am #

      Lol. I think they’re a bit scary, but I’ve never had the chance to handle one.

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