BOTH CUPS FULL

By Stormy O'Shea

Out canvassing for a charity, my friend Irene and I knocked at a door. It was opened by a huge bear of a man who was wearing a large, satin bra over his shirt. Irene gasped, being a stout Catholic, crossed herself several times, while backing up in tiny steps. I was a bit shocked, but politely asked for a donation. I tried very hard to keep my eyes from straying his bra, both cups stuffed full.

He ginned evilly at me, "Wanna feel em?

Horrified, I turned to leave, when one side of his bra came alive with motion. Irene was now crossing herself with flurry, muttering, "Jasus, Mary and Murphy all mighty," She was pleading with the saints to save her, when a tiny tail flipped out of his bra.

"Oh my sweet Lord," she squealed, "He's got rats in his boobs." She bolted for the car, offering up prayers as she tore off the porch.

An old lady came to the door. She glared at the man, who just grinned back. He put his hands up to cradle both cups, which were now writhing with movement.

She turned to me. "Did this fool ask you to play with them?"

"Yes," I gulped.

"Well," she said, patting my hand. "He's not too bright, but it's not what you think."  She ordered him to pull his bra down a little so I could peek inside. Hesitantly I watched, while he tugged the bra open a bit. When I got a look I burst out laughing.

Tiny muzzles with whiskers, long sinuous bodies, small heads with bright beady eyes stared back at me.

"Their mama died," the man explained. "This bra is the perfect place to keep them warm."

Both cups contained tiny baby ferrets.

Stormy O’Shea