Step Two: See how close you can roll bocce balls towards the hedge
Step Three: Whomevah gets their ball closedt to the hedge wins a golden toilet paper tube trophy
Hopefully the hedge will stay still for the whole game. If he moves, throw him again!
[This delicate snippet of social commentary is from Feb 23 of 2006. Not sure what put this one into my head today. - Ed.]
"Whaaaaaaaaaat-evs!"
"Borrrrrrrrring!"
This Hedger's name is Pascale. PASCALE, People! WHO names their hedgehog Pascale? Someone who obviously knows what they're doing. Straight from "HamorHollow.com", taken by Sean Soznik. Brillllllliant!
"Sure, he's a little cold, but he's BIG and he's green and he's MINE!"
Just let her go, Emily D. H. [eye roll]
According to The Sun, albino hedgie Jay Jay wasn't safe in the wild, because his color made him an easy target for predators. So some nice people took him in, and now his future's as bright as he is.
[Hedgie motorboating sounds]
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm
Ppppfffbbttt! Ppppfffbbttt!
And then:
"Remove me from this filth!"
Followed by:
[sniff] The 'Dry Dry 700' please.
[quills perk up]
Don't forget ten minutes in the moisturizing face tube, Katherine T.!
In our last chapter of the adventures of Benson Hedges, Private Eye, our hero tracked down the notorious crime boss, "Squeaky" Lowenstein. Can Benson make this hardened criminal quack under questioning? Tune in for the next thrilling episode!
Remember, no enhanced interrogation techniques, Kate G.
Prints of this shot available hee-yah.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Erica H., Clo G., Andrew C., Jon V., Quentin and Jessica D., and Marlene W.!
Horses by Julian Wolkenstein via Rachel Hulin and F-Stop Magazine, found by Chief Sister Ossifer!
Now me and the boys were in Clancy's Saloon, and hoistin' our mugs in a toast,
When Old Man McGee bursts in through the door, lookin' as pale as a ghost.
"I pity you, son," he stammered at last. "I reckon you best get yourself hid."
"There's a feller in town who's a lookin' for you, by the name of the Prickly Kid."
My skin went clammy, my hands took to shakin', the beer went sour in my mouth,
For there weren't a more fearsome critter alive, from the North clean to the South.
They say when he hunts you, there's nowhere to run, and you might as well number your days,
Because no man alive's been known to survive the Kid's cold, unblinking gaze.
Then the customers scattered, the piano stopped playin', and slowly I turned around,
At the end of the bar stood the Prickly Kid, never making a move nor sound.
He fixed me right there with a steely stare, and "hewwo" was all he said.
And I took one look in those beady cute eyes, and I plumb keeled over dead.
Now, the moral of my story's a warning to you, and I'm sure Sarah R. would agree,
When your time is over, there's naught you can do, and there's no sense in trying to flee.
So stay right here and finish your beer, for you won't be escaping the joint.
When the Prickly Kid comes a-lookin' for you, you're definitely getting the point.
End #1: (Moist nosicle, beady eye, miniscule pawsitude)
End #2: (Bowl cut, tail nubule, splayed haunch action.)
G4, nice hedge cave (above).
It was half past midnight when I rolled up to the seediest dive on the wharf. The ocean air send a prickly feeling up my back—the kind you get when danger lurks behind every door.
Inside, I grilled a barfly for information, but she just turned her back and gave me the cold shoulder. That dame was no lady—and it bugged me.
Suddenly, I heard a noise in the back room. I burst through the door just in time to put the bite on some yellow coward trying to escape.
For the next chapter in the thrilling adventures of Benson Hedges, Private Eye, visit sender-inner Heather's Flickr photoset!
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