Bill Keyes, the Ferret Meister posted:

Slim, trim, and good looking.  Stylish and fashionable.  Shaven, sober,
and recently bathed, the man who was El Dupree stepped out of the health
spa and breathed in the fresh autumn air.

Climbing into his new Iroc Z, he looked around at the beauty of the world
and smiled a smile of true and pure bliss.  Then, with a squeel of rubber,
he tore off down the road.

Along the way, he drove past a ramshackle taco stand.  The smell of frying
tortillas and spicy beans made him wince slightly as his mind was cast back
almost a year ago, to his other, nearly forgotten, life.

At the time, it was just done on a lark, to get Rosalita to stop pestering
him about his drunkeness.  He had, after many weeks of pleading, agreed to
go to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.  At first, he slept through them,
but gradually, over the course of time, he began to pay attention.

And he learned something shocking.  His tequilla addiction was ruining his
life.  It had destroyed everything he had ever cared about -- his love for
Juanita, his ties to his only child Manuel... the booze had cost him dearly.

That revelation had led to others -- the endless quest for El Dorado, his
constant fighting over the Corzappa -- everything his life revolved around
was meaningless, empty.

He vowed to change, and when El Dupree makes a vow, he keeps it forever.
He joined a health club and lost nearly a hundred and fifty pounds.  He 
changed his diet, and began to eat right.  He excersised, and most shocking
of all, he began to shower regularly.

Soon, he hung up his huge sombrero and rattlesnake boots for good.  His
world-wide contacts proved invaluable as he started his own business and
even changed his name.  He was now Lawrence Wellington Dupree, or, as it 
said on his personalized checks, "L. Dupree."  He eventually even made 
Rosalita his partner.

Partner, and, he smiled to himself, soon wife.  Yes, life was good.  I was
a fool in my youth, questing after that elusive creature called 
"enlightenment."  What does it mean, all of that nothing?

Just that, he thought to himself as he pulled into the driveway of his
new duplex.  Nothing at all.  Rosalita wasn't home yet, so he fixed himself
some rice cakes (fighting the urge to smother them in refried beans) and
went to take Burrito out of his cage.

The little ferret didn't like being caged up all day, that was for sure.
But housing regulations required it, and besides, he didn't want to come
home to a house that the ferret had free run of.  Holding Burrito tightly,
he deftly put the ferret-leash on and set him down.

"Time for our walk," he told it, smiling down at the dumb animal.  Burrito
glared back up at him with glassy black eyes which made Mr. Dupree shiver
involuntarily.

They walked to the park, a brisk pace that got El Dupree's heart up to its
target rate.  Then he sat down on a bench and watched the little ferret
scurry around, looking for things to steal.  He shook his head sadly.

"I wish I could keep you around, my friend," he said softly.  "But you know
that Rosalita is allergic to you."  The ferret stopped scampering and looked
at him curiously.  "I promise i'll try and find a good home for you, though."

Suddenly, the ferret pounced on L. Dupree's leg, using its sharp claws to
rocket up his pants, over his stomach, up his chest.  "Hey, watch it," he
cried out.  "This is a brand new sweater!"  He fumbled to grab the furry
little snake, but as his hand reached out, Burrito leapt forward and sank
his teeth deeply into Dupree's no longer calloused thumb.

The children playing nearby were out of school for the day, but they still
got quite an education.  "Ai yi yi!" El Dupree yelped.  "Ay carrumba!
Chinga tu madre!"

The man who was El Dupree danced around in pain, shouting out many, many
unprintable things.  And with every word, he felt something fly away from
him -- a darkness that had covered his soul for too, too long.  He cursed
in english.  He cursed in spanish.  He would have cursed in chinese, but
his "Learn Mandarin while you sleep" tapes hadn't gotten to profanity yet.

After nearly an hour of this, during which time the ferret sat calmly on
the bench and watched his antics, he began to slow down, and finally,
breathing heavily, he stopped.

The park was quiet.  Twilight was beginning to fall.  On the breeze, he
could smell the cooking of that ramshackle little Mexican resturant.  His
mouth began to water.  He thought about having another microwavable, lo-fat
dinner tonight, and his stomach churned.

El Dupree bent over and gently picked up little Burrito and began walking
towards the resturant.  "I chwonder," he thought, his thick accent already
begining to return, "Eef they have tequilla..."

And El Dupree was enlightened.

Bill.

*    Cry "Eek Eek," and let       *******  Jrrrr-Lwsss               *******
***      slip the Ferrets of War!    *****  The Ferrotti from Hell     *****
*****            (with apologies to     ***  bkeyes@lamar.colostate.edu   **
*******               Wm. Shakespeare)     *  14 feet of pure ferret fury. *