Revenge of the Hamster

“I’m a hamster. There’s no avoiding it. Those stupid coven witches turned me into this cute, fluffy, adorable rodent,” my little black eyes burned with ferocity, my nose twitched with a mighty and rageful inhalation, “REVENGE!!!” I squeaked, the time was nigh. 

There was an impossibly high door in front of me, those witches having dumped me only a few feet outside after a day of shoebox imprisonment. I remembered human-me stooping over as I entered the coven’s bayou-steamboat lair the day prior. They told my fortune, sang about their friends from the other side, took some of my blood for a voodoo pendant, turned me into a hamster, put me in a box, then dumped me in the swamp. After escaping a singing alligator, dodging a wise-cracking owl, and learning the true meaning of friendship from a hillbilly mosquito, I found my way back to the coven. 

It was time to attack. 

A raised a tiny fist, charging through the crack under the door. There was a woman in the foyer, reading a book and lounging on an alligator-skin couch. She didn’t even notice me enter as I circled around the room, following the wall. I waved to a mouse as I passed a hole in the wall. He waved back, confused by my presence. Part of me wondered if he was also an unfortunate business tycoon from the big city, looking into bayou magic to better his millionaire lifestyle. I shook the thought. There was a lantern-light hanging from a stand above the witch, casting dim yellow light across her spellbook. I didn’t really know if it was a spellbook, but I just assumed. 

Struggling to climb the twisted metal of the light-stand, I stood precariously on the slightly-swinging lantern above her. The man-side of me nearly overrode the hamster side of me as I looked down at the witch. She was downright beautiful, but I fought the urge to fall in love, chewing on the rope that suspended the lantern. As the first strand snapped, the lantern’s oil swished loudly and the witch looked up. I froze. Holding my little hamster-breath in fear as she squinted in my direction. Shrugging, she turned her eyes back to the book. I continued chewing, slower this time, intent in my plan. 

“Gonna get ya. Gonna get ya!” I squeaked in glee as the final strand snapped and the lantern began its molotovin fall. It descended slowly, exploding in a splash of quickly igniting oil, covering the witch. She screamed wildly, throwing her book to the floor as it erupted, spewing forth ghostly souls in smokey silhouettes. Falling to the ground, writhing as her skin melted like wax, the witch finally fell still. 

“That was . . . That was a little violent,” I said, descending the stand and carefully skittering past puddles of spreading fire. The room was fully enveloped in flames as I escaped into the kitchen. 

There was a man there. Well dressed with one hell-of-a fancy hat. He smiled down at me, tipping his cap as I sprinted past him on little legs. 

“Go get ‘em, little man,” I heard him say. 

“Who the hell?” I wondered out loud, pausing at the stairs to the next level of the steamboat and turning back to address him. He disappeared, flushing into his hat like a smokey toilet. “Oh-Okay.” 

Climbing the stairs, one by one with great effort, I found myself on the second floor. The commotion downstairs was completely inaudible due to the loud bubbling of a massive cauldron that sat in the center of the room. A large woman cheerfully stirred the pot. It was full of green and blue liquid, churning and bubbling with the ferocity of a wild animal. I quietly approached, thinking through my plan. 

I wonder what that liquid does, I thought, hopefully something diabolical! 

My teeth chattered like a squirrel’s as I rushed toward the woman. She was leaning heavily over the cauldron, relying on the strength of her heels to keep her from falling. Sprinting to her ankle, I bit the ever-living nonsense out of her achilles tendon. Yelping in pain, she stumbled into the cauldron, pulling it over as she tried to catch herself. The witches' brew spilled all over her front, sweeping me away across the floor as I squealed in alarm. Slamming against the wall, struggling to keep my little hamster nose above the liquid. I instantly began growing in size. 

Not . . . not like a lot of growth, but I became the size of a raccoon. The witch, on the other hand, was reaching the ceiling, her head popping through it as the floorboards beneath her began groaning with the effort of her increasing mass. I watched in horror as she yelled and screamed and took a swipe in my direction, flailing like a dancing gypsy. The wood finally gave way and she tumbled down into the inferno below. 

“Two down! One to go!” I cheered, skittering to the next stairwell. The magic man was leaning against the wall near its entrance. He tipped his hat as I rushed past. 

The next floor was dark and eerie, but the surprise on the last witch’s face as a hamster the size of a raccoon charged in like Braveheart was well worth all the trouble in the world. 

“AHHHHHH!!” I yelled. 

She jumped up, “You?!”

“Me!” I leapt at her. 

She side-stepped, her green lips pulling into a smirk as she slapped me down, then kicked me hard in the side. I slid across the floor, hitting the leg of a table. There was a candle on top of it and fire had proven an effective weapon. I climbed its leg, holding the waxy candle in front of me like a sword, waving it wildly at the witch. She threw some sort of goblet at me, I jumped to the side, my candle clattering to the floor, and its contents splashed across the wall behind me. 

Lucky, I thought, watching the wall dissolve like cloth in acid. 

“What in the world were you drinking?!” I shouted. 

“Arg!” She charged, not answering. 

Arg?! I nearly laughed, wondering if she was a pirate or a bayou witch. I dodged at the last second, the witch diving through the opening in the wall. 

Collecting myself, I limped toward the ledge as fires roared behind me. Peering over it, the witch stared up at me, hanging precariously, holding on with one hand. 

“Wh-why?” She shouted at me. 

I placed my little hamster foot on her hand, “Why? Witch, please . . . I’m a hamster.” 

Kicking her fingers loose from their hold, she fell into the swamp below, splashing wildly. Before I could even ponder whether or not witches’ could swim, a very musical alligator crashed into her, dragging her beneath the water. 

“Holy . . .” Slowly, I began to grow in size as the coven’s magic died with them. My hamster hairs disappeared, human skin reappearing. It wasn’t long before I was my tall, rich, naked self again. I sprinted through the burning building, diving through a window on the second story, crawling across a water wheel at the rear of the steamboat, and I quickly found myself on swampy land once again. 

Walking home, I wondered what kind of lesson I was supposed to learn tonight. A mosquito landed on me, I swatted him dead, hoping he wasn’t someone I knew. Shrugging, I kept walking.