Last Week on the Disapprovers: Everybun catches a breather after the evacuation of critter from the lab. They gather in the wreckage, next to Singularia, regroup and decide how to proceed next.
The abandoned shelter felt creepy. It was the last one on the list, the last drop-off, a drop-off I was not happy to make. I had hoped that we would turn around and go home. I thought we had to re-group at least. Penny and Ava looked very pensive. Pancake looked at Abby and me and asked, "Shouldn't we just go back home? We tried, but this is beyond our control." Abby agreed, and Molly did too. We were headed back home with Penny, Ava, Sammy, Lincoln, and Quinn. "They are staying with us, then?" I said, not really sure if I was asking, stating, or begging. "Yes, what did you think?" whispered Abby. Penny binkied. That little bunlett sure had a spring in her jump. We were glad to leave the soulless husk of the old building flooded with the ghoulish, yellow light of sodium-vapor street lamps bleeding in from the outside.
Now, the only thing left was to let our hoomins find the bunch waiting somewhere to be rescued. After a short deliberation, we decided the easiest thing to do would be to let hoomins "find" our friends waiting outside, by the door. Freddie went looking for a little earpiece for Ava so we could give them the "heads-up" once our hoomins were on the move.
Waiting until then, we got caught up on all the news we've been missing. Izzy found some archive clips of news coverage of our "doctor" getting arrested. There wasn't much. They showed the doc getting hauled away during the gray hours of yesterday's morning. The closed circuit TV was much more entertaining. We watched the deputies and federal agents scratching their heads and wondering why the cages in the lab were filled with plush toys. Who knows, maybe that made our doc look like he tried to conceal even more evidence than he already did? Is there a little more prison meatloaf heading his way because of that? I sure hope so. You know, there's little or no meat in "prison meatloaf," right? It's mostly stuffing made of cardboard, bugs and old axle grease; that's what Freddie had said. Yum!
To my dismay, but not a surprise, the remaining coverage of the event was indeed solid, very solid. Our piece was immediately followed by and got buried under some mindless drivel, never to see the light of day again, left to decompose in viewer's memories and to sublimate into oblivion. In the "short span of attention nebula" where most hoomins exist these days, bits like our bust don't last. Izzy closed the lid of the laptop.
We knew that expecting anything else would make the letdown feel even worse, but we let ourselves hallucinate that "this time it would be different." I had to keep in mind all the critters that had a real chance at life and ignore that what we've done does nothing for the networks.
Izzy turned to me and said, "Look, Major, this thing went down just as it was supposed to. We didn't draw to ourselves any attention; everything happened 'under the radar,' and that's what makes it possible for those critters to have a fresh start in life. If you think that a cataclysmic change would do anybun any good, you would be in for a nasty surprise. The question now is, what do we do next? What do all those critters do next?"
When I turned around, I noticed that it was just me moping around. Everybun else was busy showing Penny and Ava around. We followed everybun else around the house and watched Penny and Ava try to keep their eyes from popping out. They couldn't believe the setup they were joining.
The time came for them to line up outside. Freddie fitted Ava with a tiny earpiece, and we helped them get outside with their "care package." Pancake gave them tips on making the proper pouty faces. They lined up, and our hoomins were ready to rumble out of the house. Just in time too because it had started to rain, and the rain was turning into freezing sleet.
The ruckus started. The first hoomin stepped outside and started squealing about the little zoo patiently sitting by the door, cold and wet by now. The second hoomin ran downstairs and joined the festivities. They began to argue about who would stay and improvise some accommodations for the new-found orphans. The dude hoomin lost and shuffled off to the tar pits. Somehow, they never stopped to think how come they didn't have to chase this particular bunch. Usually, our hoomins assemble an entire chase party to corner some fluffy soul abandoned somewhere in a park.
We watched, pretending to be curious and anxious, maybe a little bit concerned. The hardest part was trying to keep a straight mouf through all that. Penny and Ava got their little pens, spare pads, food, and water. Ratties moved into condos of their own.
Finally, once our hoomin made it out the door, I allowed myself to call the bust complete.