The florescent lights buzzed in and out above Herpo’s head,
and he sighed and said,
“Stupid lights, stupid job, I hate it all.
I really and truly hate working in this pet shop in the mall.”
Petey the Python peered from underneath his half log,
blinked his eyes, flicked his forked tongue,
to which Herpo said,
“Petey, my friend, you and I both,
should be out in the jungles of Congo south,
not wasting away where we can’t even see sun!”
Herpo was just placing the lid on the habitat of George Gecko,
when his manager burst in with two uniformed men in tow!
“Herpo my boy!” yelled the manager vociferously,
“Your expertise is needed! This will fit you perfectly!
The ferret is loose! Help the mall police find them!”
Herpo, being an expert on such things,
followed the trail of toilet paper,
out of an open back door,
and then sniffed the air outside looking for the right odor.
“There’s droppings over there,” said the dopey mall cops
but Herpo knew better,
and moved toward some rocks,
Sure enough, there were sets of tiny ferret tracks on top.
“It’s headed toward the dumpsters,
I’m sure we’ll find it there!
Ferrets love boxes and bags-
In fact, listen! What is that I hear?”
The four of them rounded the corner,
to the sounds of “Scritch, scritch, scritch”
and there in front of the big blue dumpsters,
was the very ferret that had tried to play hooky and ditch,
trying to get out of a cardboard box,
which he himself had flipped
and trapped himself,
victim of his own curiousity.
And it’s hard to say if that fateful day,
is what rocketed Herpo to fame,
but a whole line of Herepetological and Pet Supplies
still bears his face and name.
See, you sick bastard? This is a cute story written by Dani for a young reptile enthusiast, not a poem about about a heroic herpes virus.
Oh. That was just me thinking that? My bad.
But seriously, Dani, you're a hero. On one of the few afternoons I was away from the booth, she rescued my lappy from a rainstorm and wrote half of this in the hallway of the Shakespeare Center.