Mini-Moribund Mini-Moribund

Predicaments, Part 2
a Mini-Peter Adventure transcribed by Nikki, 2008

January 2008: He sure can cram a lot of trouble into one month...

     It's been a lot longer than expected since the first Predicaments adventure. Mini-Peter managed to keep his troublemaking big enough for complete adventures throughout the second half of 2007, so we didn't really compile enough little troubles for a Predicaments until now. What's that old cliche? - "When it rains, it pours." Yeah, that seems to be Mini-Peter's philosophy.

     For starters, he has a mini-zorb now. It seems pretty obvious that something like that would provide plenty of opportunity for trouble. I came home from work one day and was not particularly surprised to find a mini-zorb obstacle course had been constructed in the living room. Well, they need to have their fun, right?

     You needed a fast start off the line to make it up that ramp...

obstacle course

     Tag the cat toy, then head for the coffee table!

tag the cat toy

     Every sporting event needs spectators.


     across the table and down the ramp...

coffee table

     then slalom through the cones and hit the door to finish.


     I thought it looked safe enough, so I watched them for a bit then went back to my room and left them to play. When my roommate got home, I heard the door open, I heard him say "what the--" then I heard some crashing... then I heard him call to me: "Uh, Nikki? Your little friend just had an accident..."
     I shook my head and rushed out to see what had happened. I didn't see Mini-Peter or the mini-zorb anywhere, but the front door was still open, and suddenly I knew exactly what had happened and what all that crashing noise had been.


     He was fine. He might, however, be the only person on the planet who needs a helmet to go zorbing.

     It was only a few days later that I woke up to Mini-Peter bouncing up and down at the foot of my bed, shouting something about playing LPs in the kitchen. I had worked late the night before and I was barely half awake, so I just nodded and said "whatever" then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't work, of course. Mini-Peter and the gang were making all sorts of noise, and I couldn't block it out. Then it got quiet. Too quiet. Dangerously quiet. I tried to convince myself that everything was fine and I should take this opportunity to put in some earplugs and fall asleep while I had the chance, but I just had this nagging feeling that I really ought to check on them. I sat up and looked around my room. Something was off... what was it?

what's wrong with this picture?

     Ah HAH! One of the LPs was missing from my wall! The presence of Mini-Peter's rope held to the wall by pushpins was a dead giveaway as to who had taken it.
     "Mini-Peter?" I asked as I dragged myself out of bed. "Where's my PG2 record?"
     I got no reply.
     "Mini-Peter?" I peered out into the living room. Nothing. "What are you doing with--" I turned the corner to the kitchen.

record in microwave

     "The microwave is a record player! Didn't you know?"
     "No it is NOT--"
     "It is! It clearly says 'TURNTABLE', right here! See?"


     Well, heck... how do you argue with that?

     Of course, all of these predicaments were small change compared to what happened over the weekend.
     On Friday, January 25th, the first day of Mini-Peter's 5 day birthday celebration, he disappeared.


     I woke up that morning and he was nowhere in sight. I asked Teddy, but he didn't know anything. Neither did Kitty or Lugnut. I tried not to worry, telling myself he'd just gone out for a walk, maybe fallen asleep somewhere. Surely he'd be back before dark, before I left for work.

     He wasn't.

     I got home from work shortly after midnight, and still he had not returned. I looked around outside, but it was too dark to see much. I hoped he would have found a safe and cozy place to spend the night where no-one and nothing would find him until dawn. Surely he'd just gone exploring, wandered a bit too far, and he would start heading back as soon as the sun was up.

     I couldn't sleep at all. Morning came and went, and by noon I decided it was time to start looking for him. I walked around the block, asking neighbors if they had seen him. I had the day off, so I stayed out searching until well past dark. I peered under bushes, behind rocks, expecting now perhaps to find him injured somewhere, unable to walk. I listened for cries for help, but heard nothing, and saw nothing. It was only from exhaustion that I got any sleep that night, and still I tossed and turned and woke at every sound... but none of the sounds that woke me were Mini-Peter.

     Sunday morning, I had to go to work. I woke early to look around a bit more before I left. I worried myself sick all day - by now I couldn't help but think horrible things. Had he been kidnapped? Caught by a dog or other animal and carried far away, left injured and helpless? Or worst of all, could he have been crushed by a car, his tiny body swept up by a street cleaner, the pieces now sinking to the bottom of a rotting landfill grave? No. I couldn't let myself think like that. But as I scanned the streets with my flashlight Sunday night, even though I tried to convince myself that I was still looking for tiny footprints to track, a part of me was looking for shards of plastic. I dreamed things that night that I don't even want to repeat.

     Monday went pretty much the same as Sunday. I got up early and looked around, but by now, the fourth day, I was starting to lose hope. I wasn't going to find him. If he came back now, it would be through no act of mine. I had done all that I could do. I stopped by the mailbox after work, my heart still heavy. I just wanted to grab whatever was in there and get home so I could see if Mini-Peter had returned. I opened the mailbox glumly and was greeted from inside it with a very successful mini-shout of "SURPRISE!"


     "Mini-Peter?!" I exclaimed, joyously relieved, but utterly baffled.
     "What are you doing here?" he asked, just as baffled.
     "I'm getting the mail, what are you doing here?" I was too relieved to be angry; I just wanted to know what the heck was going on.
     "What am I doing here? Wait - where am I?" He crawled forward and peeked out of the box. "Oh Bo****ks!" he cursed with disgust.
     "Mini-Peter, watch your language!"
     "What am I doing back here?" he shook his head as I plucked him out along with the rest of the mail.
     "Where did you expect to be?"
     "Real World Studios," he sighed. "I meant to post myself there for Real Peter's birthday." He shrugged. "I thought I'd got there awfully fast, but it's hard to tell time from inside a box."
     "Real World Studios?" I turned the box in my hand to read the address, which looked correct, then turned it a bit more to see a red stamp which read: POSTAGE DUE: $3.47.

insufficient postage

     "You didn't put enough postage on here."
     "What? I spent every penny I had on stamps - I thought surely it would be enough!"
     "You spent all your money on one-way? How did you intend to get back?"
     He shrugged again. "I hadn't really thought about it."
     "Were you even planning to come back at all?"
     "Of course I was! My home is here with you and my friends, I just wanted to have a nice holiday with Real Peter. I thought I could have made a few pounds helping in the studio and whatnot, and once I'd made enough to come home I could post myself back and bring all sorts of souvenirs for everyone. Well it doesn't matter now. I saved for weeks and it wasn't enough, and I'll surely miss his birthday now anyway." He bowed his head, absolutely crushed that his plan had failed.
     "Hey, little buddy... it's probably a good thing you didn't make it too far. In fact, you're lucky you even made it back here. Do you have any idea how worried I have been?"
     "I'm sorry, I meant to leave a note. I guess I forgot."
     "There are better and safer ways of getting to England, they just take a lot of saving and planning. I've been there once and I'll make it back one day, and when I do I promise you'll be with me. Okay?"
     "I suppose. But what about Real Peter's birthday?"
     "We'll just have to send him a card or something."
     "I can't afford a card, I haven't got any money left!"
     "We'll make one. It'll mean more if it's home-made anyway. I'll pay to send it."
     "All right...."
     "Come on, cheer up."
     "Hmmph," he grumbled.
     "Let's think of something really special that we can do at home for his birthday. We have two weeks to plan it."
     "Okay..." he was quiet for a moment or two, then suddenly his eyes lit up. "I've got it!!"
     "You won't let me do it," he smirked.
     "Why do you say that?"
     "It's big and messy and--"
     "Well let's hear it...."

     As he told me his plan, an uncontrollable grin broke out across my face. It was very big and very messy, but it was also a great idea. Of course, I can't reveal our plan just yet... it is sure to be an adventure all its own, so you'll have to wait until February 13th to see how it turns out!