Midgets Aren't All They're Cracked Up to Be

From the first day I pulled Nevil out of my duffel bag and locked him in the trophy case in my living room, I thought that I was pretty damn clever for acquiring a midget. I pictured all kinds of everyday tasks that he could perform for me; it would be like having my own butler, only puntable and hilarious. Who wouldn't want a comically undersized sidekick to make their bed, brush their teeth, or stand in for them as a real life stunt double in situations they personally didn't want to be associated with, like work, paying taxes, going to jail, or being gang fucked in a dark alley by a group of Hell's Angels hopped up on PCP?

Fate, it seems, has a cruel way of twisting your dreams into reality.

It seems like I cater to that fucking midget more then he ever waits on me. For the longest time I couldn't even take him on a walk through a decent neighborhood without him darting off and humping somebody's front yard gnomes. I can't count the number of times we would've both been arrested if it weren't for my quick thinking, drop-kicking Nevil into the hedges and soaking up the accolades from homeowners who thought I'd just saved their landscaping from some kind of demented, randy troll.

Eventually I had to solve this problem by stealing one of those remote control shock collars. It didn't seem to be doing the trick at first, if anything the shocks just got Nevil excited, but after I replaced that pussy-assed 9V battery with a Sears DieHard he started singing a different tune. I'm not sure what, it sounded like "Greensleeves" but it's hard to scream in tune when you're on fire. The shock from that car battery is so strong it'll blow a midget clean across the street, and he'll shit his pants in mid-air or your money back. That little fucker even stopped biting, hissing and spitting. I'm telling you, a shock collar is the gift that keeps on giving. Remember that come Christmastime, especially if anyone on your list owns a midget or an ornery dwarf.

In the end, I guess my biggest midget-owning gripe is still maintenance. I had a big problem with him drinking out of the toilet in my apartment, which sounds funny until you get up in the middle of the night to take a crap and realize you've just shit up the back of a midget's jammies. Trust me, that makes leaving the toilet seat up seem like no big deal. So after I got the collar, I decided to hide in the bathroom closet and wait until Nevil got his tongue in the water before I hit the button. Holy shit! Now he won't even go near the fuckin' bathroom.

So what does he do? He shits in the bottom drawer of my fridge. I should have gotten a hamster.

The vet says that Nevil doesn't have any hair anymore due to the hundreds of thousands of volts that I run through him on a daily basis, and that I should find other ways to discipline my midget. Yadda yadda yadda. But I'm nothing if not a humanitarian, so for a week I took the damned collar off. Every time he did something that I didn't like, picking at the paint on the walls, trying on my clothes, trying to escape, or pissing in my closet, I would beat him shitty with a pick-ax handle instead. Trust me, it was good exercise, but nowhere near as convenient. That and my neighbors were always complaining about the noise and asking if they could borrow my croquet set.

Communication is a big problem too. It would be so much easier if Nevil could talk. All he ever does is grunt and growl. Why can't midgets ever talk? You'd think they'd be great at it, since they constantly need help when they can't reach things. I'd expect a midget kid to be able to say "Hey bitch, hand me that sammich!" by the time they're two. Of course, maybe at one time he could talk. But when I found him, in order to subdue the little bastard enough to get him into my bag I had to stab Nevil in the throat with a piece of splintered wood, then tape the wound shut with duct tape so he wouldn't die. I wasn't worried about it at the time, since I already knew that midgets can't feel pain. So don't say I never learned anything in school. But I think that might have had something to do with his lack of conversation skills.

So a word to the wise, for those of you who are thinking about getting a midget: Think twice, because it will be more of you taking care of them, and not the other way around.

This is Mickey Hanes!
Good morning world, I am the one and only Mickey Hanes. Who the hell is Mickey Hanes, you ask? Well, that's a question for the ages, but it's not important right now. What is important is how I came to learn of the commune. I was quietly... (3/8/04)