CAN AN EDITOR CONSOLE RAJ? THAT IS THE QUESTION BEFORE US.

NOTE FROM EDITOR: Today, Mozilla Firefox CRUSHED INTO COSMIC PARTICLES OF DUST the literary dreams and aspirations of an exceptionally talented, albeit young, inexperienced author. You see, dear readers, our little YumYum generously offered the weekend position of blogster to "the pretty one," Raj, who this morning blogged eloquently about how The Editor discovered that wheelchairs, unlike bicycles, cannot be stopped or turned once they are rolling rapidly at break-neck speed down the smooth, newly-paved path at Boulevard Park heading DIRECTLY INTO a bulwark of sharp, jagged Cascade Mountain GRANITE,
a sea-wall designed to keep Bellingham Bay from going all Tsumani &stuff on our favorite local park!

Raj recounted the true, breathtaking narrative more raptly than an action-movie filled with aliens and Special Effects! Speilberg and George Lucas, eat your hearts out.  You know, Hillary Swank is from Bellingham,
yeah, it's true. We're not just a bunch of small town nobodies. Uh-uh! oh Yeah!
OH<AND ZOMBIES! GUINEA PIGS LOVE ZOMBIES. AND, WHETHER OR NOT THEY FIT INTO A STORY, ZOMBIES MUST ALWAYS BE INCLUDED. Perhaps, in retrospect, not including zombies precipitated what came next:

Having written adroitly about The Editor's stupid, near-TRAGIC- death experience with fiery passion and literary acumen rarely found in 9-month-old guinea pigs (descended from Royalty to uplift Humanity)

it d.is.ap.eared. it v a n i s h e d off the screen. gone. out the back, Jack, take a little scram, Sam: Raj's masterpiece  went soaring Invisibly - in the blink of an eye - into Cyberspace, never to been seen or heard from again. Kleenex, we need Kleenex
 STAT!

(Pause for moment of silence.)

Proud of his blogPost accomplishment, we had all waxed eloquent; dreaming aloud of the Pigitzer Prize he was bound to win,
and how we would live with Raj's new-found fame as a suddenly discovered literary prodigy living humbly among us regular folk, called Bellinghamsters. Just folk.

Cavies everywhere would REJOICE, naming their offspring Raj, whether girl or boy was irrelevant: an entire generation of Rajs and Rajettes would be born into a world make better for Cavies everywhere because our very own Raj gave Voice to the CavyCause:  human recognition of Guinea Pig brilliance, genius, and unprecedented creative innovation in an artistic genre usually reserved for heroic horse and dog stories.
Raj sacrificed his poetic voice and personal anonymity for the recognition and newfound respect that cavies would receive GLOBALLY! And maybe people would even stop serving them for breakfast in Peru and the Congo like egg McMuffins!

We were already dicing fragrant, fresh celery and carrots into bite-sized pieces (because they can choke and die if you give them long, striny pieces, so all celery must be chopped into small, bite-sized pieces for guinea pigs) and The Editor was going to make Popcorn and Hot Cocoa for Her OWN Breakfast Celebration! POPCORN AND COCOA!

Gird your loins, dear reader, for suddenly, the fates turned against us:

The computer crashed, leaving us all stunned; staring in mute horror and disbelief as Raj's dream went: blank.

He's too young for this much pain, we squealed to the Zombies we know made this happen because, let's face it, they just didn't fit into this particular story.

                                                                          -*-

It's our fault, isn't it, for not insisting he save his work as he typed furiously Inspired as he was?
And nobody insisted he include Zombies. Was that wrong?

                                                                         -*-

Now, our little one is in the agony normally reserved for alcoholic human Artists, one all too familiar to the rest of us, but an agony that no nine-month old pretty guinea pig should ever be forced to endure in relative obscurity. Shoulders as little Raj's are too delicate for Heartbreak so early in his promising career. Now all he seems interested in is figure skating... and that is so wrong! Not when the Editor is practically over- the- top self-destructing in her new wheelchair.

No, someone must ragain their senses (and nobody's money is on the Editor.) Figure skating can wait.

Raj, we are so sorry, our little pearl. Take a post or two to tell the world how you feel. We are behind you all the way, little one.

P.S. As of today, none of us are Zombie fans. TAKE THAT, ZOMBIES, YOU PICKED THE WRONG HERD TO MESS WITH!

As we all take our warm milk and honey with a dash of cardamom earlier these days due to mom's rapid decline in health, we shall bid you all adieu and ask each of you to boycott Zombie products in protest of their bullying such a delicate, newly emerging talent as our pretty little Raj Mahal.

Editor out, YumYum out, Taj and Raj now grazing for hay, so we all out.

Thank you for understanding Raj's agony as he posts his emotionally response to this tragedy in the following excerpts.

G'night, all. We move in one week. Then life with be full of joy, sunshine, lattes, and Inspiration! We love you all.