It's Hard, Being Super
It's Hard, Being Super
Another spinoff of the Fairy Godfather stories
Yes, I can't seem to help it: I've written a story about another character spun off from the second Group Participation Fairy Tale. Someone came up with a character named Superhamster, and I felt the need to explore his life story.
He wasn't born "Superhamster". In fact, hamsters generally don't have any names at all, except the silly ones people give them. Why would they? In fact, you've heard the old cliché about "they all look alike to me"? Well, hamsters all look alike to each other. Which is why they're so solitary: how would you like it if you kept running into someone who looked like your own reflection, only they weren't doing what you were doing?
But this particular hamster (some child had called him "Seamus", so you can see why he didn't like using that name) was different. He was a philosopher.
Now, hamster philosophy is not all that advanced, really. They don't get together and discuss it, for one thing. They just sit there on their haunches clutching a sunflower seed, nibbling at it until it's gone, filling their cheek pouches, looking at the world with their beady eyes, and thinking deep thoughts. Thoughts like, "Why are all our tunnels made of yellow plastic?" and "Where does the food come from?"
But again, our hero was different. He had insights that others did not. Or at least, he thought to himself, as far as he knew the other hamsters didn't have them. Certainly, if they did have such insights, they didn't talk about them. Because hamsters can't talk. So he was sure he was different from all the other hamsters, unless he was exactly the same.
With those kinds of insights, how could our hero go wrong?
However, he wasn't actually happy. Perhaps that's something he shared with human philosophers, but he couldn't talk to them any more than you or I could. There was something missing ...
What our hero wanted was to be unique. He wasn't even sure what that meant, exactly. But he thought, "You know, it would be cool to fly. You don't see a flying hamster every day."
So, he went and took flying lessons. Or at least, he snuck into the back of classrooms and airplane hangars, and listened to flying lessons. Unfortunately, while he mastered navigation easily (though it helped if there were seeds at his destination), he couldn't understand anything about airplanes, at least partly because he never succeeded in sneaking aboard one. There might have been other reasons why the descriptions of flying an airplane didn't make sense to a four-inch rodent, but he didn't bother about those other reasons simply because he didn't know about them. One might call that a philosophical attitude. After all, human philosophers say that ignorance is bliss, and hamster philosophers don't say anything at all, perhaps proving the assertion.
But either way, our friend was getting a little frustrated, and was beginning to think he might never achieve his life's greatest desire, when he finally met a creature who could fly. Perhaps it was unfortunate, or perhaps it was an inevitable result of the Law that bears his name, but that creature was Murphy, the evil fairy.
Despite the language barrier (Seamus didn't know any), the desire to fly was so strong in his mind that Murphy sensed it immediately. There must have been something about the thought of seeing a hamster fly that struck Murphy's imagination, or at least his sense of humor, because on a whim, he waved his wand. "Now you will have the power to fly! (As well as possibly some other powers, who knows, it doesn't matter anyway.)" {Murphy was a notoriously inaccurate spell-caster, whose carefully crafted Law that says "Whatever can go wrong, will" applies to him as well.}
His heart bursting with joy, Seamus leaped into the air. He whizzed across the room too quickly for the eye to follow, turned sharply at the wall, and returned to hover in front of Murphy. Who, promptly and in line with his evil character, burst out laughing.
You see, there's a reason you don't see a flying hamster every day, and that's because they're not really designed for it. Despite his speed and agility, Seamus didn't fly in a neat, aerodynamic horizontal way. Instead, his heavy hamster butt and tiny little tail, which look don't even look like the proper design for waddling away from you down a tunnel, hung down as he flew, giving the impression of a perpetual bombing run.
But Seamus didn't mind, because he had his wish: now he could do things no other hamster had even dreamed of.
{To Be Continued.}
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