The Tragedy at Hamster Prison Facility

A Writer’s Cramp story:
The place: Hamster Prison Facility
The characters: Hamster inmates

Your job is to write a poem or story about two hamsters and their great escape.

The Tragedy at Hamster Prison Facility

Harry and I, tired of living in the Hamster Prison Facility on Mars, had made the decision to escape. Unfortunately, escape is rather tough when you’re dependent on humans, being “lab rats,” as they called us. (Of course, anyone who knows anything about rodents can tell the difference. Hamsters are Cricetinae, while rats are Muroidea, but try to tell that to one of those furless, tail-less lab technicians – the ones with fabric coating their bodies and face masks over their mouths.)

Still, escape was the only way since our prison sentences were for Life.

I bet you’re curious how Harry and I came to be inmates at a prison facility, practically on Death Row. It’s not that we did something awful back on Earth. No, sir. We . . .

Okay, I admit it. We stole. Both of us in separate operations, of course. I’d never met Harry before I ended up here.

For me, it was quite simple. I saw a bulging plastic container full of Chia seeds. . . and being hungry, thought I’d sample one or two. I think that's called entrapment, but there was no judge or long-winded jury trial. I never even spoke with an attorney. But, although I was more or less innocent, I was convicted.

For Harry, in his case, there was considerably more intent. He broke into a grocery store, where he did the evil deed, chewing his way into a whole case of pears, then taking a bite out of each of them. (Seems like an awful waste to me. I would have finished off the whole pear before moving on.)

But that’s how we became convicted criminals, serving our time as “lab rats.”

I was here first, then came Harry. They put him in with me.

Bad decision. Hamsters are solitary creatures and don’t share habitats. Even worse, Harry’s a male, so he really got on my nerves.

I’d have killed him except he mostly left me alone and contentedly burrowed down in the sawdust to hibernate. Each time he did that, since his torpor lasted a good ten days, I was ready for a bit of companionship by the time he woke up.

Of course it was Harry’s fault about the babies. Those hairless and blind youngsters – all twelve of them -- took me a good bit of time and effort to train. Then one day they got lifted up out of my cage. I never did know where the lab techs took them, but I was pretty grateful they did. My cage was far too small. Like I said, hamsters prefer solitude.

Just as I was feeling good about being solitary again, back came Harry. Only Harry wasn’t in a torpor then, and after I chased him around, bit him several times, and made sure he knew who was boss, he started talking about our escape.

Despite the fact that he was a male, I listened.

It seems that Harry had made a new friend, a real-live Martian. The guy had come into the lab and moseyed over to Harry’s cage.

Harry described this Martian fellow as being purple as a dark Ruby Roman grape and furless and tail-less like the lab techs, but significantly different -- according to Harry -- because the Martian was able to communicate with hamsters.

Anyway, Harry told the Martian all about our plight, and this Martian guy agreed to save us from being “lab rats" and promised he’d end our captivity.

I was so excited. I told Harry how I couldn’t wait to be free of prison. But after a moment, I started thinking over what he'd said and wanted to know exactly what we'd be doing once we got out of the lab. Of course, Harry didn’t know. I told him he should have asked.

I almost attacked Harry I was so angry he hadn’t gotten details – like how we’d breathe on the planet’s surface when there wasn’t any air and like what we were going to eat once we left prison?

But it was already too late. Before I could chase Harry all around and berate him further for not asking about such things, a hand reached inside the cage. It lifted up Harry then returned for me. The hand was purple -- with four long fingers. Something at the end of each finger stuck itself to my fur then slurped me upwards and inwards.

Harry had said the Martian would have pockets he would use to carry us out, but the finger slurper didn’t feel like a pocket. It was dark inside and something was gurgling louder than the vacuum the lab techs used to clean out our cage.

Even worse, the place I was standing felt all liquidy. My feet got wet. My fur felt drippy. I shook myself, but it didn’t do any good. Moisture was dripping down on me and rising all around me.

Suddenly I heard a great rush of water approaching. A waterfall? An ocean wave?

“Help!” I squealed. “Harry?”

“Stop that!” a lab tech cried out, his voice sounding far off and faint. “That darn Martian’s just eaten our . . .”


<<Gulp.>>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

860 words