Hedgehogs

[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.

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!

Let’s lift up the box top and see how the freshly-borned hedgehoglets are doing!

Hmm. Maybe we should check back when they have some quillage.

Much better.

I think they’re doing fine. Mom sitting on hogs, check.Warm comfortabuhls home, check.

Beady eyes, check.

Baby Hedge’tocks, check!

Trisha K., how about some mini croquet?

Can’t you just see a perfect squiggle of mustard on his head?

I know you can.

Laura B., nice deli pic. Please include a large peekle.