300 Guinea Pigs
I don’t know how I get involved in these things. My so-called friend Sparky rang me the other day as he had a problem. Sparky has many problems, but this one was a fluffy, squeaking problem.
His trucker buddy Super Dave had a job to collect a consignment of 300 live guinea pigs from the airport and deliver them to the local University research lab. Unfortunately Super Dave tends to gets rather misty-eyed about cute animals (especially after a few drinks, as on this occasion). Fearing he was driving his furry passengers towards a life of misery and pain, the idiot pretended they’d escaped from his rig and instead drove them to freedom.
More specifically he drove them to my house. Sparky had already declined the doe-eyed delivery due to the major house renovations he had coincidently just started that morning. But I wouldn’t mind looking after them – he’d call me right away and arrange safe passage for the liberated pigs. Oh, great. What was I supposed to do with 300 guinea pigs?
Not one to miss out on a money-making opportunity, Sparky realized he could make some cash out of the little critters. According to the Ecuadorian guy at the gas station, guinea pig tasted just like chicken and was a delicacy in South America.
Sparky figured he could sell them at $5 a pop to the local World Cuisine restaurant as an exotic entrée. They would also make great barbeque food as they were perfect patty size. Super Dave was not having that – he didn’t liberate them from the lab just for them to end up being grilled to perfection.
Sparky went off to visit his local herbalist with Super Dave’s tearful pleas ringing in his ears. I warned Sparky to hurry up and formulate a plan – my basement floor was now a wriggling carpet of fat-faced furballs. And their numbers seemed to be increasing.
A few days later, Sparky returned with his foolproof plan. His herbalist told him that guinea pigs were used by Andean bush doctors to cure arthritis. By gently rubbing the poor creature on the affected area, the pain would magically disappear.
The herbalist reckoned he could flog the guinea pigs at local seniors’ homes, where he had a large customer base for his ‘arthritic healing herbs’. They could probably sell two pigs a time – one for each knee. And the old folks would have a new friend to stroke and chat to. It was all good.
Sparky’s $15 ‘One Pig and One Gram’ deal sold like hot cakes. Within a week, they’d sold out of the little critters. For once I was impressed. For my help, Sparky gave me $200 and a promise never to let Super Dave anywhere near my house again.
Now all I have to do is find another $200 to cover my basement cleaning bill. Thanks, Sparky.
Give a guinea pig some love and head to Humor-Blogs.com
Yeah…I ate guinea pig in Peru when I was there in 2002. It wasn’t bad, except the wild ones (yes, they live in the wild) were really small, and there were lots of tiny bones. Our guide, Mauro, told us that eating the brain was a special treat, and that it usually went to the head of the household or a special guest.
Wha? Like if I had a TV special and Charo came to do a number, I’d have to feed her the brain of a guinea pig?
Anyway, we let Mauro eat the brain, since he knew the best place in Cuzco to get roast guinea pig, so that made him our head of household, or something.
Also, just think about this. You’ve got a Peruvian family of probably, like, ten people, and they’re all eating off of the same guinea pig, such that there’s only one brain to give out? That’s why we don’t eat them, here. Each family member would need their own guinea pig. Although, after this week, we might have to cut back on food.
This is an inordinately long comment. Please forgive me.
No good deed goes un-punished.
Good you don’t have them anymore, or we’d have to call it “Piggyblog.com” 🙂
Pimpin’ the pigs! niiiiice! 🙂
But what happens to the little guys when the high-pitched “woot” noise they make drive the arthritis patients into a senile rage?
Why does this story sound a little familiar? Have you told us about other schemes hatched by Sparky?
Howard: An interesting read on guinea pigs’ brains. Thanks for sharing!
Threio: ‘Punished’ is my middle name!
Jenn: Good call! I may steal that very idea from you when you’re not looking.
Chat: Not sure if the pigs were so happy, but better than being prodded by a stab-happy research student I guess.
Mark: Hopefully the seniors will have ingested so much of the, erm, ‘herbal’ leafs they will be too high to notice the squeeks.
Margaret: Yes. Sparky gets around I’m afraid. More to come soon!
Awww, those are cute. But I’d settle for one (two would probably equal 300)(which your blog post convinced me is a bit over the top). But: 300 guinea pigs in your apartment, waiting to be sold for gentle knee-rubbing? It sounds like something from a parallel universe. Are you sure this happened?
Does he have any left? Sound’s like a bargain to me!
I used to raise guinea pigs when I was a kid, to supply local pet stores. In 1985, the going rate was $5 to $7, and I sold about 10 a month. We never even considered eating the cute little buggers!