Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Epilogue

PART VIII: FUN WITH HAMSTERS

Laverne was trawling the Mansion, looking for something to injure the Edisons with, and also get them escaping like they should be right now.
She didn't find anything. Eventually she had a look outside. There wasn't much threatening weaponry concealed in the rosebushes or tulips out here. Just a cat, which had gotten itself in the small gap between a picket fence and the ground, and was rubbing its back against thefence as if the motion gave it some sort of pleasure. Laverne approached the cat, but it pulled away and disappeared as she got close, only to reappear as she went away again.
Laverne got an idea. It was pretty strange. Not wanting to think about it too much, she went back into the Mansion and had a look around. In one of the passages, at the desk where the tentacle that reminded her of Uncle Reggie had once sat, she found what she was looking for - a bottle of whiteout.
She went back outside. As before, the cat backed away as she came near; but this time Laverne went right up to the fence. There she splashed a large amount on the palings, on the side and on the bottom. Then she retreated. "This oughta be good," said Laverne with anticipation.
The cat squeezed itself back into its comfortable gap under the fence. It's back rubbed against the fence, and a long white strip appeared all the way down the cat, from the head to the tail. If you squinted, the cat looked like a skunk that had been starving for a while.
The cat craned its head, and saw the stripe. It yelped, jerked itself out of the ground and ran for the Mansion. It leapt, scrambled up a post, and ended up on the balcony in front of the doorway. It licked nervously at the white stripe, and Laverne hoped that whiteout wasn't lead-based.
She looked up at the poor kitty. Make that the poor out-of-reach kitty. And it didn't show any inclination to come down either. Laverne pondered this, then went to the Chron-O-John.
'Does anybody have some kind of mouse or mouse toy?' she wrote, and tossed the note into the Chron-O-John. Almost immediately, she got her reply - a rubber mouse, courtesy of Hoagie. Mollified, Laverne took the mouse and stood in plain view of the cat.
She waggled the mouse around. "Well, what do we have here?" she said loudly. The cat perked its ears up, and glanced around. Instantly it leapt forward, peering down hungrily at the mouse.
"Looks like a prosthetic rodent!" continued Laverne. Greed got the better of the cat and it leapt down. Instantly Laverne grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and held it tight. "Another specimen!" she said happily.
'Skunk' in tow, Laverne entered the Mansion and went to the kennel. The force-field was still off, so she just tossed the cat into a corner, where it started licking the stripe again.
Zed glanced up. "Hey, look," he said in a bored voice. "A skunk." He started to look down again.
All three Edisons whipped their heads up. Zedna and Ved dropped their cards. As one, they screamed.

A distant observer on a far hill, watching the Mansion, might have seen three trails of dust exit the Mansion at high speed and pelt for the horizon, each a different way, as if the devil were at their heels. Then, if he'd peered closer at the Mansion, he would have seen the tentacle guard, net in one arm, leaping out the front door at an incomparably slower speed.
"Come back here you mangy humans!" he shouted. "You can't do this! This is an escape-proof facility!!!"

Laverne chuckled. They were alone in the kennel now. "Who says you can't learn anything from cartoons, eh kitty?" she said to the cat. Boy, but she felt good. The tentacle guard was gone, for at least several weeks, and they pretty much had the Mansion to themselves.
Including the disused basement.

Upstairs, Purple Tentacle himself schemed and planned. The doorway opened, and one of his faithful purple-coloured tentacle lieutenants stood at attention. A little late for his summons, but as honest as ever.
"Tell me, lieutenant," said Purple Tentacle, "how do you really feel about humans?"
"Honestly, sir? I think they're filthy. Obscene. Foul. Sickening. Like the stuff in your eyes when you wake up. Like the wax that builds up behind your suction cups after a few days. Like-"
"That's enough, son. I just wanted to be sure you weren't one of those humanist sympathizers. What with this ridiculous 'human show' going on here there's humophiles everywhere."
"I'm no humophile, sir," said the lieutenant firmly.
"That's good," said Purple Tentacle. "Now lieutenant, I want to ask you something. It may trouble you."
"Ask away, sir. I can take it. I've got a strong stomach. Nerves of steel. Bowels of brass. Suckers of-"
"Can it, son, this is important. Have any of your friends seemed a bit... firm, lately?"
The lieutenant made a face. "Ew, ick. You mean like, non-squishy and non-slimy?
"That's right," said Purple Tentacle. "Come closer." His lieutenant obliged him by hopping twice forward. "I have recently become suspicious that humans might try to infiltrate us," he said in a low voice.
"No!" said the lieutenant, shocked.
"Though basically stupid, they can be tricky. They may be in disguise."
The lieutenant looked horrified. Abruptly, Purple Tentacle changed the subject. "Still, lieutenant, I'm glad you're here. What kept you?"
The lieutenant looked embarrassed. "Errr... Well, I hate to say it sir, but there was some trouble with one of the humans."
"Trouble? What sort of trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," said the lieutenant confidently, "but I've noticed something about the humans that may pose a problem."
"Do continue," said Purple Tentacle indulgently.
"Well sir, in general they seem to be a bit... larger than us tentacles. You know, taller. Heftier. More massive. Able to leap-"
"I get the picture, son," Purple Tentacle assured him.
"I don't mean to carry on, sir, it's just that it makes me feel... inadequate. Small. Inferior. Out of control of-"
"Before you go off the deep end there, let me tell you why I called you here. You see, I've invented something which will end our troubles with those glandular leg-walkers for good. I've invented...." he paused for dramatic effect "...the Diminuator!"
"The what?"
"It's a shrinking ray, dolt," said Purple Tentacle.
"Oh, I get it!
"Now, I need you to get me a few parts so I can finish the thing. Come over here." The lieutenant hopped closer.

Laverne pulled open the face of the grandfather clock. She climbed into the dark passage beyond, and found the wooden stairs leading down.
They led her to a small room, more the basement of four hundred years ago than Doctor Fred's large expansion. Daylight came from the shutters near the ceiling. The air was filled with the smell of old boots, and there was dust on everything.
Nobody down here. It was like being in an attic, only at the bottom of the house. Lots of cardboard boxes were stacked against the shelf. In one dim corner Laverne saw the bowed remains of Doctor Fred's time machine.
There were only two servicable machines in the place. One, by the stairs, was a metal vacuum cleaner. Another, much larger machine sat flush against the wall. It had a large treadwheel, a smaller gear wheel, and lots of buttons. It was, in fact, the hamster power generator Doctor Fred bought a long time ago. You put the hamster on the treadwheel, it ran, and power was generated.
Only one problem: Laverne didn't have a hamster. She started to think about this, then got tired and just decided to ask Bernard and Hoagie for help.

Bernard had been everywhere by now. Upstairs, downstairs, in the attic, the kitchen, the hall, the office, the basement, everywhere. And no diamond.
Currently he was outside, walking over to the parking lot. The guy in the ski mask was still trying to break into the dust-ridden car, although he seemed to have switched his attention to the trunk. Bernard's idea, which he had to admit wasn't very good, consisted of asking this guy if he'd mind stealing a diamond for him.
"Hi!" said Bernard brightly.
The masked man turned around with a start. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" he said in his weaselly voice.
"What are you up to?" asked Bernard, as the man tried to jimmy open the trunk.
"Er, I, uh... I locked my keys in the car," said the man, uneasily.
"If you're locked out, why break into the trunk?" asked Bernard.
"I, uh, have a spare set of keys in there," said the man. "Say, I'm kind of busy, so..."
Bernard got the picture. It wouldn't be worth his while to ask the masked man about the diamond. Dejected, Bernard trudged back to the motel. Seen from this angle, at this time of night, it looked pretty spooky, like the motel in 'Motel Slasher 3'.
At least his old pal Ted was still here, holding up a birdbath in the front yard. Bernard needed some cheering up, so he stopped to talk to Ted. "Hey, Ted," he said cheerily. Ted stared straight ahead. "Talkative as ever, eh, Ted? You haven't changed a whole lot."
Bernard looked around. "Boy, I haven't seen you since I was here five years ago. You know, I bet you'd really like my friend Hoagie. He's a roadie for a heavy metal band. You could hit him over the head with a bowling ball and it wouldn't faze him. He can pass out standing up and not drop anything." Bernard thought a bit. "The two of you have a lot in common."
Bernard sighed. "Boy, I wish I had as little on my mind as you do. No offense intended, of course," he added hastily. "I mean, my best friends are stranded in time. Purple Tentacle's probably taking over the planet by now. And I've got to somehow get hold of a diamond."
He thought about this. "Maybe I could make one. Maybe I could buy one. Maybe I could get someone else to buy me one. I wish I knew someone with a lot of money."
Ted said nothing. "I guess I'd best be on about saving the world," said Bernard. "Bye." He walked up the rickety steps to the Mansion.

Inside, Bernard was at a loss for what to do. He decided to check on the Chron-O-John, and went down to the basement. Doctor Fred was still down here, sipping his highly-caffeinated coffee and worrying about things. Bernard wasn't expecting any help from that quarter.
There was a message in the Chron-O-John.

Anyone got a hamster? I need one to run a power generator. Laverne.

Bernard could help out here, at least. He didn't have a hamster, but he knew who did.

Weird Ed glanced up at the figure in his doorway, then looked back down at his stamps. Just Bernard.
Bernard came into Weird Ed's room. He saw the hamster a few feet away, inside its specially aerated enclosure. Bernard lifted the lid off and took the hamster in one hand. It made faint squealing noises, and wriggled around. Weird Ed didn't look up. Either he didn't notice, or didn't care.
Only when Bernard was out in the passageway did he realise there was a problem. Doctor Fred, a few hours ago, had told him that living things couldn't be flushed through the Chron-O-John. How could he send this little fella to Laverne?
Bernard paced along the passage, worrying about this. Then he stopped. In one corner of the passage was a deep freeze. Bernard pulled the lid open, and saw it was full nearly to the brim with ice.
He looked apologetically at the hamster. "I'm sorry to do this to you little fella, but it's for the future of the whole planet." Then he thrust the hamster all the way into the ice, pulling the lid shut.
Would there be an ice machine in the Mansion, two hundred years in the future? It was a risky venture. Thinking about it, Bernard started to realise how risky. Even if Laverne found the icicle-ridden hamster in the future, how was she going to revive him? Then there was something Weird Ed had said. Whenever the hamster worked, it got cold and then refused to keep working. Laverne needed a steady supply to get the Chron-O-John working.
His problems weren't yet finished. Bernard had more work to do.

A few minutes later, and Bernard had one of his most hare-brained schemes ever. He had a short written conversation with Laverne, in which he established that the future Mansion had both an icebox and also a washing room, left intact for two hundred years.
This information cheered Bernard up immensely. It meant his hare-brained scheme was possible. Bernard was also cheered by the fact that he'd thought of the scheme at all. For several excruciating hours since everything went horribly wrong, he hadn't come up with one good idea. Maybe this was the harbinger of better things to come.
Bernard started by going to Fatty's room. In there, he searched the cupboards and drawers until he found an icky sweat-soaked woollen pullover. Before leaving, Bernard pulled the door half-closed and took the keyring.
He didn't like stealing. But his idea specifically needed the keys. Besides, if Fatty owned the car Bernard thought he owned, getting it stolen would be a public service.
The next stop was the parking lot.

The car thief might have been incompetent, but at least he was persistent. He was still here, trying to crowbar his way into the trunk. Why the car thief thought there might be anything in the trunk of this rust-ridden jalopy was beyond Bernard.
He came up behind the car thief. "Here, perhaps these are your keys," said Bernard, offering the whole lot.
"Where?" said the car thief urgently. "Gimme!" He grabbed for the keys, in the process transferring the crowbar to Bernard's hands. "Hey, thanks pal," he said. "Keep the crowbar."
"Thank you, masked man," said Bernard courteously as the car thief started trying keys. He walked away, to distant strains of "It must be one of these. Drat. Maybe this one. What sort of person would carry around this many keys?"
The crowbar felt good in Bernard's hands. Kind of weighty, thin and powerful. Phallic, even. Holding it firmly he jogged up the stairs to the second floor passage.
In the passage was the object of his plan. The candy machine. Crisps, sweets, and all sorts of packaged goods were in there, his for the paying. Bernard didn't want them. Instead, he held the crowbar up against the coin box, then whacked it firmly, twice.
Coins spilled out of the return slot, piling up in a knee-high mound on the carpet. Bernard looked around guiltily, then started picking them up.

Some time later, Bernard was walking through the lobby, the coins jangling noisily with each step he took, his trousers pulled several inches lower by the weight, and trying to look nonchalant.
He found the laundry room, put the sweater in the washing machine, then started placing coins, one at a time, into the coin slot. Each coin kept the machine going for about thirty minutes. With this many coins, the laundry machine would be running for years to come, and the sweater irretrievably shrunk.
Down to hamster size, or so Bernard hoped.
Yes, it was a pretty hare-brained scheme. But the world, or at least Bernard's world, is a pretty hare-brained place. Who's to say what will and won't work?

Laverne, for one, thought Bernard had gone slightly mad, when she read the note outlining his plan.
The icebox was on the second floor, in almost exactly the same place where Bernard found it. Laverne didn't expect to find anything, but there was the hamster, frozen in a cube of blue ice, a surprised expression on his face.
Bernard had worried about Laverne's ability to rescucitate the hamster, but Laverne wasn't worried. She'd gotten the idea, in fact, from something Bernard had said about his first trip to Maniac Mansion.
Laverne walked through the Mansion until she came to the room with the Recyclatron and the industrial strength microwave. Laverne popped the hamster cube into the microwave and set it to Defrost.
So quickly she could see it happening, the ice block melted and fell away from the hamster. Soon the hamster was standing in a pool of cold water, and at that moment life returned to his eyes. He looked around, and then started to sweat, whether with heat or worry Laverne didn't know.
"Gosh, I hope this isn't like the primitive, dangerous microwave ovens of my century," said Laverne. The head of the hamster suddenly expanded to twice its size, then fell back into place. "Those things could really pop a hamster good."
The head of the hamster popped again. Next, its body swelled from inside, as if hot gases were igniting, then fell back. "Uh-oh," said Laverne. She didn't know how to turn this thing off.
With a cheery 'bing!' the door of the microwave slid open. Laverne picked up the hamster. Small trails of smoke issued from his ears, but he was still soggy and cold. Laverne blew a gentle stream of air at his head, trying to calm him down. She looked around guiltily.

This shivering cold hamster would be no good at all for running a hamster power generator. So, hare-brained or not, Laverne was pretty grateful for Bernard's idea.
The laundry was only one doorway away. Laverne entered.
Here it was, everything as before. And though Laverne could swear there had been nothing in the washing machine when she came here last time, now there was a tiny little sweater.
She took out the sweater and put it over the limp hamster. A minute passed, and the hamster started to come to life. It looked around, pawed at its mouth, and started wriggling. Cute little fella. Laverne wished she had some formaldehyde.
Maybe later. Right now she needed power. Hamster in hand, Laverne went to the basement.
She cast a quick eye over the power generator. Everything looked all right - at least, it was shiny and clean. Laverne dropped the hamster onto the belt.
A panel opened up in the wall beside her. A punching glove on the end of a long spindly arm came flashing out, striking Laverne full in the face. The blow tossed her right across the room, where she landed in the disused hulk of the time machine. Her head banged against a hubcap which, disloged by the collision, fell onto the ground and rolled around noisily.
The hamster realised it was free. It dropped down to the ground, where it lay for a few seconds, stunned. Then it roused itself and darted for a mouse hole low down on the wainscotting.
Laverne still hadn't wiped the utterly surprised expression from her face. Finally she managed to pull herself free of the time machine. She dusted down her disguise. The punching arm now slumped half in / half out of the wall, from where it had sprung. There was a face print on the glove. It looked broken. Laverne hoped it was.
She turned her head and stared at the mouse hole. She could see a pair of small beady eyes peering out nervously. Then she looked a little further right, where she saw the basement vacuum cleaner.
Laverne sprang forward, and grabbed the vacuum hose. The vacuum whirred as she switched it on. Acting on a lot of nervous energy and frustration, Laverne grinned and jammed the hose right in the mouse hole.
There was a low 'thwip', then the sucking resumed. Laverne felt the hamster get sucked up the hose, into the machine. She switched it off, and opened up the hatch.
There was a dusty ball in there with a familiar shape. It sneezed. Laverne picked it up and blew the dust off. There was her dusty warm hamster, wriggling about in her hand with all his former life.
Laverne was in no mood for any further obstacles. She immediately returned to the hamster generator and jammed him down on the belt. Acting on the training he'd picked up from Doctor Fred, the hamster ran, obediently.
Laverne stared at the wall. "Well?" she said, daring anything else to happen.
Nothing did, except that the hamster kept running and now bolts of electricity flickered between the two electrodes on the top of the machine. She had power.
How was she going to get it to her Chron-O-John. Laverne searched high and low and finally found an extension cord. She plugged it into the generator, then tossed the other end out the window. Looking through that window she could see the Chron-O-John squatting on the ground, barely five metres away.
She went outside, found the two cord ends, and plugged them together.
The Chron-O-John whirred into life.

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