through the back window.
She was looking for her cat, Domino. She’d heard the poor animal yowling miserably in the middle of the night, and now it seemed to have run off.
As she spotted the small gang of well-armed mice, she suddenly realized that her poor cat hadn’t just run off—it had been chased off!
“How bizarre!” she harrumphed. “An army of mice!”
She was eighty-nine years old, and she’d seen some curious things in her life, but this gang of bloodthirsty rodents was perhaps the strangest.
People said that she was crazy. Down in Mexico, she had once visited a town called Taco Feo. During a big afternoon hailstorm, Latonia had seen an angel fall out of the sky with a busted wing. The angel was a middle-aged woman, plump, with a big stomach. A lightning bolt had knocked her right out of the sky, singeing her feathers, which were brown and white with blue-green eyes on the end, like those on a peacock.
The village women in Mexico had nursed the angel back to health, feeding her tortillas and orchid nectar.
Once the angel flew off, it was said that she carried the townsfolk’s prayers back up to heaven, and the following year, all of the old women in the village turned young and beautiful, all of the bald men grew hair, and the town had the best crop of black beans ever!
When Latonia had first moved to Oregon, she’d gone around telling her neighbors about the angel. So of course, folks now whispered, “Latonia Pumpernickel is nuttier than a Snickers bar.”
And telling stories about an army of mice wouldn’t help her situation, Latonia knew.
But she had to do something. There was an army of mice outside. They might well have harmed her cat.
And then there’s that poor Ravenspell boy who lived next door, Latonia thought.
Ben had disappeared in the middle of the night, right after buying— a mouse!
And now Ben’s parents were going crazy with worry, driving all around town looking for him.
Could it be that these evil vermin murdered the boy? Latonia wondered. Or maybe they kidnapped him. Maybe they’re forcing him to dig burrows for them, out in the woods!
Latonia imagined poor Ben, digging some vast tunnel with his dirty fingernails, surrounded by millions of mice, all of them armed with weapons.
They might even have Domino there, too!
This called for dramatic measures.
Latonia raced to her bedroom, dug beneath the pile of dirty clothes in her closet, and got the video camera.
I’m onto the greatest story in the history of the world, she realized. Mice have armed themselves and are banding together to fight. It has to be the greatest advance in the animal kingdom since, since, since . . . the invention of pogo sticks!
Chapter 3
WISHES
If you want to know what a critter is really like inside,
just offer to grant him a wish.
—RUFUS FLYCATCHER
She raised her paw and young Thorn came shooting out of the water, onto the bank.
As the rest of the mice ran off to continue their raid on the garbage can, poor Thorn threw himself at Amber’s knees and hugged them.
“I’m sorry that I drew the fleas to you,” Thorn said as tears formed in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I guess I should have run off into the woods and let them eat me. I should have died so that others could live. That would have been the noble thing to do.”
“There, there,” Amber said, stroking his fur. “It’s all right. The fleas are gone now.”
“I’m so stupid,” Thorn said. “I know I’m stupid. Everyone tells me so. ‘You’re dumber than bug dung,’ they all say. ‘You’re dumber than frog boogers.’”
“Just because others say it,” Lady Blackpool said sternly, “doesn’t mean that it’s true. You’re a kind mouse, and there is great wisdom in kindness.”
“No,” Amber said honestly, “he really is dumber than frog boogers.”
“Amber,” Thorn pleaded, “when you regain your powers, will you make me smart? I just want to be as smart as other mice.”
“Hmmm . . .”
She was looking for her cat, Domino. She’d heard the poor animal yowling miserably in the middle of the night, and now it seemed to have run off.
As she spotted the small gang of well-armed mice, she suddenly realized that her poor cat hadn’t just run off—it had been chased off!
“How bizarre!” she harrumphed. “An army of mice!”
She was eighty-nine years old, and she’d seen some curious things in her life, but this gang of bloodthirsty rodents was perhaps the strangest.
People said that she was crazy. Down in Mexico, she had once visited a town called Taco Feo. During a big afternoon hailstorm, Latonia had seen an angel fall out of the sky with a busted wing. The angel was a middle-aged woman, plump, with a big stomach. A lightning bolt had knocked her right out of the sky, singeing her feathers, which were brown and white with blue-green eyes on the end, like those on a peacock.
The village women in Mexico had nursed the angel back to health, feeding her tortillas and orchid nectar.
Once the angel flew off, it was said that she carried the townsfolk’s prayers back up to heaven, and the following year, all of the old women in the village turned young and beautiful, all of the bald men grew hair, and the town had the best crop of black beans ever!
When Latonia had first moved to Oregon, she’d gone around telling her neighbors about the angel. So of course, folks now whispered, “Latonia Pumpernickel is nuttier than a Snickers bar.”
And telling stories about an army of mice wouldn’t help her situation, Latonia knew.
But she had to do something. There was an army of mice outside. They might well have harmed her cat.
And then there’s that poor Ravenspell boy who lived next door, Latonia thought.
Ben had disappeared in the middle of the night, right after buying— a mouse!
And now Ben’s parents were going crazy with worry, driving all around town looking for him.
Could it be that these evil vermin murdered the boy? Latonia wondered. Or maybe they kidnapped him. Maybe they’re forcing him to dig burrows for them, out in the woods!
Latonia imagined poor Ben, digging some vast tunnel with his dirty fingernails, surrounded by millions of mice, all of them armed with weapons.
They might even have Domino there, too!
This called for dramatic measures.
Latonia raced to her bedroom, dug beneath the pile of dirty clothes in her closet, and got the video camera.
I’m onto the greatest story in the history of the world, she realized. Mice have armed themselves and are banding together to fight. It has to be the greatest advance in the animal kingdom since, since, since . . . the invention of pogo sticks!
Chapter 3
WISHES
If you want to know what a critter is really like inside,
just offer to grant him a wish.
—RUFUS FLYCATCHER
She raised her paw and young Thorn came shooting out of the water, onto the bank.
As the rest of the mice ran off to continue their raid on the garbage can, poor Thorn threw himself at Amber’s knees and hugged them.
“I’m sorry that I drew the fleas to you,” Thorn said as tears formed in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I guess I should have run off into the woods and let them eat me. I should have died so that others could live. That would have been the noble thing to do.”
“There, there,” Amber said, stroking his fur. “It’s all right. The fleas are gone now.”
“I’m so stupid,” Thorn said. “I know I’m stupid. Everyone tells me so. ‘You’re dumber than bug dung,’ they all say. ‘You’re dumber than frog boogers.’”
“Just because others say it,” Lady Blackpool said sternly, “doesn’t mean that it’s true. You’re a kind mouse, and there is great wisdom in kindness.”
“No,” Amber said honestly, “he really is dumber than frog boogers.”
“Amber,” Thorn pleaded, “when you regain your powers, will you make me smart? I just want to be as smart as other mice.”
“Hmmm . . .”
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