Bags not... Rick!

In the morning, Rick wakes up angry and doesn’t know why. But then he opens his eyes and sees Vyv’s back and messed-up hair, and it comes back.

Who does Vyvyan think he is, coming on to Rick and pushing him around like a damsel? Forcing him to take the better sleeping place and then be fucking grateful for it?! Well, no. He’s not going to do that with Rick. Nobody damselizes Rick, and nobody can act like they’re a couple of lovebirds, just because of a fling.

If Vyvyan wants courting, he can have it.


The four guys pack up their makeshift tent and move on for a few miles. They want something closer to some village, to buy food (their stomachs are so empty that even lentils sound tempting), and hair gel for Vyvyan (who is currently using his own piss to make his hair stand up, and swears by it), and to check out the general situation – how much longer they need to lay low.

It’s raining, and the little caravan looks miserable as it stumbles through the trees. Neil, carrying most of their stuff, has pulled the tarpaulin over his head and looks like a hunched-over madonna. Vyvyan walks behind him, occasionally bumping into trees or jumping into the thicket to kill an unfortunate, squeaky little animal, and eat it despite Neil’s half-hearted protest. At noon, they see a little house made of gingerbread, and eat half the roof, despite the very ardent protest of the old, warty lady who seems to own it.

As they continue their journey, Rick and Mike end up at the front of the caravan, and Rick decides that this is a good point to test the waters. And with Mike, you best start with a compliment.

“Say, Mike… you’ve got a way with women and all that”, he begins with an amiable smile. “I think I need some advice from you.”

“Mike The Cool Person, once again giving advice in the warfare of love to the young and vestal”, concludes Mike. “Anytime. What do you want to know?”

Rick clears his throat. “Well… say, I like a girl, right, and I want to show her in a real old-fashioned way. You know, the way girls like it. The really cheesy way.”

“Simple: write a poem for her.”

“What?! A poem about Vy… I mean, a poem about ordinary carnal desire? That’s not what my poems are for, Mike! If you want cheesy love poetry, go read… Shakespeare or something!”

“Well, then, invite her to some fancy restaurant.”

“Ah, no, I can’t do that.” (Not now, at least, while they’re laying low.)

“Serenade her. Borrow Neil’s guitar and sit under her window. She throws a shoe, it’s bad news. She throws a pair of knickers, you’re in for some action.”

“Ahm… no, I can’t do that, because right now, we have no guitar and no window.”

“Now what kind of advice do you want?” asks Mike impatiently. “What kind of a bird is she? Very special?”

“Oh yes. Very.” Rick chuckles into his fist.

“Well, buy her something. It never fails.” Mike crawls over a tree trunk that is getting in the way. “Works with no matter what chick. You find out what she really, really wants, but would never buy for herself. You buy it for her, she feels special and next thing you know is, you’re in her panties.”

Rick thinks about this. It would be so much fun to give Vyvyan a ring and ask him to wear it for Rick. “Thanks, Mike, you’re a genius.”

“Any time, Rick. Doing my best to get you laid. Any time.” Mike inflates with pride until he’s nearly 5’5, and strides on forward through the rain.

No, the ring plan won’t work, because the others would notice. Either they’d see the ring, or the ensuing fight. And then they’d think Rick was really into men. It has to be something else. Something that bothers Vyvyan, but that won’t make the others suspicious.

Something he really wants, but would never buy for himself…

Rick turns around and looks at Vyvyan for inspiration. His housemate/accomplice/one-time lover is gnawing away at a skinny squirrel. He looks up and flips Rick off.

Rick chuckles into his collar. This guy who is flipping him off here is really in love with him. How ridiculous. Vyvyan is helpless putty in Rick’s hands, really. Funny to think that Vyv actually has any feelings in him.

But yeah, he can care, apparently. He cares for SPG, for example, who is small and helpless and furry. Well, you can’t say that he’s the ideal pet owner, but he is trying, and SPG has been doing fine so far… oh well, until Vyvyan accidentally killed him. Yeah. But then he broke down crying, so he must have cared.

Rick stops in his tracks, and Neil bumps into him.

“Rick, could you please not stop suddenly, I can hardly see where I’m walking here”, complains Neil’s muffled voice.

“Then why don’t you come out of that tarpaulin and keep your eyes open?” snaps Rick, but his thoughts are somewhere else entirely.

“It’s not because of me, you know, it’s just that I lost nearly half of my luggage, and all the dry wood that we wanted to use tonight has fallen into the mud, and it’s gonna take hours to dry again, and…”

“Would you mind shutting up, I’m trying to think here!” replies Rick sharply. That’s it. Of course. What Vyvyan needs is another hamster, but he would never buy himself one, because he’s still mourning.

Oh yes. That’s it. Sometimes you have to be kind to be cruel.


In the afternoon, they find a new and relatively dry place to stay, under some rocks, and they build up a new fire and make some more tea.

“Ehm, guys… I’m going to the town to buy some food. Is anybody coming?” inquires Neil.

“Yes, me, Neil!” Rick jumps up. “I can’t wait to go back to civilization. There’s something I really want to buy.”

“Great. You can help me carry the lentils.”

“Ah hum, yeah, I can, we’ll see about that”, smiles Rick. Nobody ever said anything about going back with Neil.

“And I need a new guitar.”

“Hey, Neil”, calls Mike. “Bring condoms and shaving cream!”

“What are you going to fuck out here? A tree?” asks Vyvyan, but without much energy.

“One with flowers on it”, says Neil.

“What?”

“A guitar. Maybe I can get one with flowers on it.”

“Haha.” Rick shoves his arm under Neil’s in what he hopes is a chummy fashion, and pulls him away. “Let’s go. I can’t wait.”


The next thing Rick experiences is a one-hour walk with endless amounts of Neil’s drivel being poured over him. Neil has taken Rick’s sudden friendliness as a good sign and is now telling him everything he ever thought and considered, about live, spirituality, the position of slits on male underwear and the cosmos. But in front of the supermarket, Rick kindly says goodbye and wanders off to find a hamster.

The town’s only pet shop is very small, and this makes it hard for Rick to find what he is looking for. Of course, only the tackiest, girliest pet is good enough for Vyvyan. But after shooing up all the hamsters in the shop, the shop assistant finds a white one. That’s about as tacky as they come. And there’s nothing to help you get over the death of a hamster like a new hamster… not that Rick wants to make Vyvyan feel better, he reminds himself. This is an act of public humiliation.

With a cage filled with hay, a wheel, food and sand (47 pounds) and a hamster in it (5 pounds – what kind of a ratio is that?), Rick makes his way back to the others. When he arrives, it’s nearly dark, and the only source of light is their fire.

There’s a definite smell of bread being roasted, and you can be almost sure that Neil has already started to marinate the lentils in water. Ah, good old Neil.

Mike and Neil are playing cards (probably not the same kind of game, and with different rules, but still). Vyvyan is sitting alone and staring into the flames.

When Rick approaches, he lifts his head. “What’s that?” he asks, and nods towards the cage.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I thought it would be nice to have a pet, that’s all.” Rick puts the cage down on a tree trunk, not too close to Vyv, who is scowling at the cage. “Of course, I’m not much good with hamsters, so I’m going to need help from an avid hamster keeper, like you, just to make sure I don’t make any fatal mistakes.”

“You bought a hamster?” asks Vyvyan, and leans forward.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure that it’s a hamster”, says Rick lightly and turns the cage around a bit to get a better look inside.

Vyvyan jumps up, hands balled into fists. “You complete and utter bastard!” he shouts. “SPG hasn’t been cold for a week, and you buy a new hamster! Like he’s a… an egg slicer!”

“Relax, Vyvyan, he’s not for you. He’s for all of us. Only thinking of yourself all the time, are you? The others might want a hamster too.” Rick cradles the cage in his lap.

“Well, actually I would have liked a goat or something similar”, says Neil from behind him, “you know, something to help us with this autarky thing…”

The fluffy white bugger is nowhere to be seen under the hay. “It’s a pity you can’t see him. He’s white like an egg. He’s such a cutesy-wutesy little baby… come out, little feller!” Rick sticks his finger through the bars and wiggles it.

Oh yes, this has gotten Vyvyan really mad. “You bloody bastard!” he shouts again, and gives the cage a good hard kick.

There is a deep hissing sound, and the hamster jumps at Vyvyan, all fours stretched out and teeth bared – until it is stopped by the cage bars, bounces off them and falls on its back, where it lies unmoving like a wounded plum.

Vyvyan is not immune to the charm of something trying to rip out his throat, especially if it’s shorter than his thumb. His sneer twitches into a reluctant, approving grin.

Rick turns around and puts his arms over the cage. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him and take care of him. You don’t need to bother with him at all. I think I’ll name him Rick. Rick the Second. Or Ricklet.”

“Rickets, more like.”

Rickets is slowly stirring and shaking his head. “Ow. Ow ow”, he moans.

“That’s what you get for messing with me”, says Vyv.

Rickets lifts a tiny paw and flips him the bird. “Come here, you big bastard, I’m not done with you!”

Vyvyan just looks him up and down, then snorts sadly and walks over to his old seat.

“See, I’m already having difficulties handling him. Hm.” Rick shrugs. “Seems like these things are much more complicated than I thought. But I’ll manage. I won’t bother you about the hamster. It’s just that I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally kill him. Maybe feed him something that poisons him, like chocolate. I’m kind of worried about that, but don’t you worry, I think I’ll figure it out just fine. I just hope I get it right, that’s all. Oh, and I hope I have enough time to take proper care of him. Wouldn’t want him to end up all lonely and waste away in his cage, without anyone he can really bond with, would we?” He chortles. “I’ll just have to figure out a way to tame him, but after what I’ve just seen, I’m kind of worried to touch him. I guess it takes experience…”

“Rick? Shut your bloody gob, or I’ll kill you”, says Vyv, sitting by the fire with his arms crossed.

Rick grins down at the cage, from where Rickets is scowling up at him blood-thirstily.

Vyvyan knows very well that he has lost.