The Scotches

The new hamsters are not working out so well. There's been both biting and fighting. Last night, I went back to the pet store to buy a new cage to separate the gals, now named Hannah and Hope. Today after lunch, we put Hannah into the new cage which is a piece of crap that must be returned to Petco asap. I then put Hope into a plastic hamster ball so she can run around our new "hamtrack." While I'm screwing the ball shut, I look down into her cage and see something so appalling that I want to vomit. A peep nearby says, "Is that food?"
I whisper, "No, that's a baby hamster."
"How can that be?" other peep says, "They're sisters."
I mutter resentfully, "One, or maybe even both, must have been pregnant when I got them at the pet store."
I put Hope back into the tank with the baby and try to transition the class into the taking of a spelling test on long o words. I'm up to about word 5, "broke," when I say to the assistant teacher in the back of the room, "That could be Hannah's baby. You better put her back in the tank with the other two." At the end of the day, a mom comes in during dismissal bedlam. I've been staying away from the hamster cage and ignoring any hamster comments for the last few hours. I'm still slightly nauseated by what I've seen. After a peep tells her of our discovery, she runs over to the tank and says, "They never just have one baby," and starts poking around with a chew stick. She counts four babies and the kids are running about with glee. One peeps comments, "Now we can use the other "h" names." There had been eight h names on our slate of nominees. Finally everyone leaves and I head over to good pal Menosky's house for some scotches. The scotches helped calm me down, but you have to admit, I am facing one hellacious hamster hassle in the coming weeks.