affame_le_geant_meeterskeeter fyn gula "i don't have to put up with this shit," the cat, whose name i failed to mention before was meeterskeeter. his origin came from some very happy man who was known to give animals names that were words children had trouble saying, as in this case, mosquito. meeterskeeter didn't like having his tail pulled. he didn't like working for slave wages, and besides he had a wicked premonition in his dream last night that trouble was brewing for the kingdom of broken glass and he wanted no part of it. "listen, lost boy," meeterskeeter whispered, as he felt the initial pressure on his tail and the peculiar tingling in his throat as if the word "bubbles" would come out. "i'm done with this. i want out. i'm going to give you the phone number of a mouse who can take my place. all you have to do is squeeze her belly in the right place and she'll sing like doris day. got a pencil and paper?" the sudanese/refugee/lost boy/servant's head was reeling. "she's quitting?!" the thought screamed in his head. "right now, just as i am to wake the king?!" he panicked and yanked on meeterskeeter's tail. wincing with pain, the cat lashed out with claws extended and slashed the top of his right hand. the blood ran bright red against the lost boy's dark black skin. he muffled his pain, brought the injured hand to his lips and sucked at the wound. with the other hand, he dug for his cell phone in the pockets of his tuxedo pants. "what's the number?" he whispered. there was obvious strain in his voice. fortunately, king mal and queen mauvis slept on, however severe retribution came for every minute after 4ooam. "1-s-m-a-l-l-m-o-u-s-e," meeterskeeter said, and he waited. he didn't want to leave without taking care of his responsibity. it was the least he could do considering his departure held the ultimate potential of punishment for the lost boy. it rang once. the lost boy gently cleared his throat. it rang twice. the lost boy swallowed hard. meeterskeeter swished his tail. "hello," the mouse answered. her name was potentilla. 011118 ... me o ;olr upit [pdyd s ;py/ 020211 what's it to you? who go blather from