At the drugstore today, I saw a mole using a power drill.
Seriously. Read on, dear friend. All will become clear.
Yet again, Japan has jumped clear off the cute meter and landed squarely in the absurd.
The drugstore lady said, “Oh, that was a freebie from a drug company. We display those for a while and then toss them out. Do you want it?”
You bet your Bippy I do! I need some time to ponder this. First of all, I wonder what a drill-bearing mole has to do with a drug company. A reminder to get your moles checked by a dermatologist and removed if necessary? Surely not with a power drill. Or is he associated with toothpaste? “Brush your teeth or you’ll face the drill.” Maybe. Very mysterious.
I also wonder about the wisdom of allowing small forest creatures to have power tools, especially when the mole’s primary purpose in life is to dig. And moles may be soft and fuzzy, but most species are rather creepy looking. Wikipedia describes what and how they eat; I now have some rather unpleasant images in my head that I can’t seem to shake.
On the other hand, why deny him the luxuries of modern technology just because he has some nasty habits? I know plenty of people who have worse ones. Moles are only acting on instinct after all. Why not give him the benefit of the doubt?
So I brought him home and told him to make himself comfortable. And then this happened.
What’s this? A spud lobotomy? Poor Mr. P looks rather alarmed, as he probably should. Peeling appears to be imminent; who knows what goring and mashing could follow? What could the evil mole possibly have in mind? Don’t let the pretty white ribbon bow at his throat fool you. The depth of his depravity seems endless: moles don’t even eat potatoes.
Surely this will not end well.