we got this in our email a little while back and have been too busy to post it, so we apologize for the delay.
mr. tooty nolan wrote us a lovely little message and included another submission of his radical rodent ‘ritings! and this one includes some juicy hints of hamster humping, lol!
this piece of fiction is actually quite lengthy, so we’ve only included an excerpt here. but if you like what you read, then please scurry over to his blog and check out his other great work! http://tooty1701.wordpress.com
Hello again girls. I felt a bit mean about sending you a work of fact rather than a work of fiction earlier, which isn’t what you asked for originally. So to make amends please accept this little tale – entirely fictional I assure you – from the third volume of The Horatio Horseblanket Chronicles, and chosen at random, entitled Return to the Year Blob.
Chapter Twelve: Return To The Year Blob
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Once outside he immediately encountered the dean , Ruggy Toadfellow, and the school nurse, Honey Bucket, as they made their way along the corridor toward, what could only be, the stationery store. It was late, and Horatio couldn’t think of one good reason why either of them should be searching out envelopes at this time of night. There were some social skills that Horatio was yet to master completely: The abrupt verbalization of his thoughts was one of them… “What are you two up to?” He enquired, stepping before them and thwarting their forward progress. For a moment Ruggy was flustered, “Why, isn’t it obvious, young fellow me lad?” He blustered. To Horatio nothing was obvious; certainly not the actions of his buck-toothed overseers. He wished that he could have responded with a witty quip: Instead he said, “No.” with a quizzical, and perhaps insolent, lilt. Then he noticed that Honey carried a huge basket of pies and bottles of lemonade. “What are they for? Are you gonna have a party?” He asked. Ruggy realized, even if Horatio didn’t, that his plan had all the opacity of The Great Hall’s stained glass window. So, with a deep sigh, he said… “I’ve just come off the phone with the weather hamsters. These inclement conditions are bound to stick around for at least another month. By then we’ll be in a mini ice age, and millions will die. Honey and I have decided to sit it out in the stationery store, then attempt to rebuild the population of Hamster Britain by combining our DNA in the most natural manner we could think of…” For a moment Horatio stood in absolute silence. He was not stunned. He wasn’t even frightened. He was simply in awe of Honey Bucket: He’d seen Ruggy in the showers entirely by accident one summer’s evening, so he knew what she was in for. He sent up a quick, silent prayer to the Saint of All Hamsters for her physical well-being and the elasticity of certain parts. “Well good luck.” he said, trying to smile, but instead grimacing so badly that Honey had second thoughts about surviving, and almost opted for euthanasia then and there, “But what are the rest of us to do? We can’t go outside – for fear of frostbite and resentment from some of the poorer villagers who have neither a roof over their head, nor a pot to piss in. Also the doors to the kitchen are locked.” Ruggy had to make a quick decision. He looked down at the vast quantity of pies, made a quick calculation, multiplied it by two, and said, “Here you are,” and handed Horatio the keys to the kitchen. Then, as he and Honey scurried away into the staccato shadows thrown by the single, stuttering oil lamp, he added, “Find the prettiest girl who’ll have you, and finagle yourself a warm hideaway. From now on it’s every hamster for himself.” This last line set Horatio to thinking: If he was to return to the Boys dorm, and inform the others, it would probably cause great friction amongst them. He’d read the literary masterpiece ‘Prince of the Woodlice’, so he knew how situations could quickly spiral out of control, and usually resulted in the biggest bullies ultimately ruling the roost. He thought of Lewd Junior and his bunch of would-be hooligans: They envied him terribly; No doubt they would shave his scrotum, pin him to the wall of The Great Hall as their prize exhibit, and throw things at him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it of such ghastly visions. No, the other boys would have to figure out how to survive the mini ice-age by themselves: Even poor Algy. What he needed was a warm hideaway and a good female with wide, pup-bearing hips, and a natural predilection to multiplying exponentially. Lys Dexia might have been the obvious candidate – except that she’d vowed never to have children, and was far too argumentative and flighty. She might be perfect for a roll in a shallow roadside ditch; but as a permanent partner she was pure poison. Colleen Slapper would have been his natural choice, since she was perfect in every way; was betrothed to him when he came of age; and he loved her dearly. But she was probably in Chunderland right now – fighting beached prawns, and warding off ice floes. That left…Who did that leave? He hadn’t really got to know many of the female hamsters of Saint Dunces: They were all too dull and insipid; and none of them was the least interested in either go-kart racing, foldaway scooter motocross, or poo-jumping. That left only one: The strange foreign girl who nobody spoke to because she was foreign. “I wonder…” He said to himself.
“Vouz wondare what?” Came a strangely accented feminine voice from the darkness.
Tooty Nolan’s ‘The Horatio Horseblanket Chronicles’ ©
Created & Written by Paul Trevor Nolan
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