MiSTed: The Tale of Grumpy Weasel, Chapter 7 [ 1 / 1 ]

[Joseph Nebus]

>
>
> VII

TOM: Chapter Five, Part II.

>
> PADDY MUSKRAT'S BLUNDER

CROW: [ As Emily Litella ] 'What's all this about Paddy Muskrat's bladder?'

>
> Sometimes Grumpy Weasel found the hunting poor along
> the stretch of stone wall that he called his own

JOEL: Maybe Grumpy should take up gathering?

> ---though of
> course it really belonged to Farmer Green.

TOM: [ As Grumpy ] 'I own it by virtue of working the hunting grounds! Read your Locke!'
CROW: [ Pointlessly hostile ] *You* read *your* Locke.

> And though he
> disliked to wander much in strange neighborhoods,

JOEL: ... he likes the way his existing drives the Nextdoor biddies crazy.

> once in a
> while he visited other parts of Pleasant Valley.

CROW: Sometimes he wanders all the way to Simply Passable Hill or Mediocre Brook. Once even to Disappointing Meadow.
JOEL: Mister Meadow Mouse likes it.

>
> It was on such an excursion to the bank of the mill
> pond

TOM: o/` Down by the old mill pond ... o/`

> that he caught sight, one day, of Paddy Muskrat

CROW: I want to call him Paddy O'Muskrat for some reason.

> ---or to
> be more exact, that Paddy Muskrat caught sight of him.

JOEL: You know a caught sight is the most dangerous of all.

>
> Now it was seldom that anybody spoke to Grumpy
> Weasel.

CROW: And when they did it was about who has the deed to the garden wall.

> On the contrary, most of the forest-folk dodged out
> of sight whenever they saw him, and said nothing.

TOM: Wait, nobody likes Grumpy Weasel, nobody likes Fatty Raccoon, does Arthur Scott Bailey have any protagonists he *wants* to spend time with?

> So he
> wheeled like a flash and started to run when somebody called,
> "Hullo, stranger!"

CROW: He's being visited by the Barbara Lewis?

>
> One quick backward glance at a small wet head in the
> water told Grumpy that he had nothing to fear.

JOEL: In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be here ...

>
> "Hullo, yourself!" he retorted "And you'd better not
> call me 'stranger,' because I'm no stranger than you are."

TOM: Well, how strange are you?
CROW: Anyone who boasts about how strange they are is about as strange as white broccoli pizza.

>
> Well, Paddy Muskrat---for it was he who had spied
> Grumpy Weasel on the bank of the pond---

JOEL: No, not *that* Paddy Muskrat, the other one.

> saw at once that
> whoever the slender and elegant person might be,

TOM: Nick Charles?!

> he had the
> worst of manners. Though Paddy had lived in the mill pond a
> long time, he had never met any one that looked exactly like
> the newcomer.

CROW: Isn't that how newcomers work?
JOEL: Not if you're clones.
CROW: Oh.

> To be sure, there was Peter Mink, who was
> long-bodied and short-tempered,

TOM: [ As Peter Mink, from far off ] 'Hey! Why pick on me?'

> as the stranger appeared to
> be. But when Paddy inquired whether the visitor wasn't a
> distant connection of the Mink family (as indeed he was!),

CROW: [ As Emily Litella ] 'The *Pink* Family?'

> Grumpy Weasel said, "What! Do you mean to insult me by asking
> whether I'm related to such a ragged, ruffianly crowd?"

TOM: 'Ruffianly'?

>
> Somehow Paddy Muskrat rather liked that answer,

JOEL: 'Ruffianly', yeah, we got us a stranger who says things like 'ruffianly'.

> for
> Peter Mink and all his family were fine swimmers and most
> unwelcome in the mill pond.

TOM: Just ... just because he doesn't like Peter Mink doesn't mean he can't swim.

>
> And perhaps---who knew?---

JOEL: It is a crazy, mixed-up world.

> perhaps the spic-and-span
> chap on the bank,

CROW: Felix Otter!

> with the sleek coat and black-tipped tail,

TOM: Puttin' on the ritz!

> was one of the kind that didn't like to get his feet wet.

JOEL: That he was wearing his swimming trunks suggests otherwise, though.

>
> Then Paddy Muskrat asked the stranger a silly
> question.

TOM: 'If you could trade tongues with someone, who would it be?'

> He was not the wisest person, anyhow, in Pleasant
> Valley, as his wife often reminded him.

CROW: Oh you know women, always reminding you of the existence of wiser muskrats in the valley.

> "You're not a distant
> relation of Tommy Fox, are you?" he inquired.

TOM: Tommy Fox, the lowland tenrec?

>
> Grumpy Weasel actually almost smiled.

JOEL: [ As Grumpy, hollering in pain ] 'AAAAUGH!'

>
> "Now, how did you happen to guess that?" he asked.

CROW: [ As Grumpy ] 'Because, man, if that idea ust popped into your head you're a sack of doorknobs!'

>
> "Because you've got such a sharp nose," Paddy Muskrat
> replied.

JOEL: You know what they say, sharp nose, warm heart.

> And he was quite pleased with himself, for he
> thought that he wasn't so stupid as some people thought.

TOM: Oh ... oh, honey, please, sit down before you hurt yourself.

>
> "Any other reason?" Grumpy Weasel inquired, stepping
> to the edge of the overhanging bank.

CROW: Look out, Paddy, it's a trap!

>
> "You don't like to get your feet wet," Paddy Muskrat
> said.

TOM: Objection, assumes personality traits not in evidence.

> And feeling safe as anything, he swam nearer the spot
> where the stranger was crouching.

JOEL: Just think of being the phone company guy walking Paddy through moving his SIM card.

>
> Paddy saw, almost too late, that he had made a bad
> blunder.

CROW: Can't you even tell a cabbage from a lettuce?!

> For without the slightest warning Grumpy Weasel
> leaped at him.

JOEL: Aaah! Snuggle party!

> And had not Paddy been a wonderful swimmer and
> able to dive like a flash,

TOM: What, *nekkid*?!

> he would never have dashed,
> panting, into his house a few moments later.
>
> "What on earth is the matter?" his wife asked him.

CROW: [ As Paddy ] 'NOTHING! Nothing, uh, nothing ... listen, we don't have any holes on us, do we?'

>
> "I've been having a swimming race with a stranger,"

JOEL: Seems more like a diving race to me?

> Paddy explained. "I don't know his name. But I do know that
> he'd just as soon get his feet wet as I would."

TOM: [ As Mrs Muskrat ] 'Why would you want to get his feet wet?'

>
> "Well, why not?" Mrs. Muskrat inquired. "That only
> shows he's sensible."

CROW: He can see, hear, smell, touch, *and* taste!
TOM: Can't trust a stranger you don't ever lick.

>
> "Does it show I'm sensible, too?" Paddy asked her.

JOEL: I don't know, can you be licked?

>
> "Certainly not!" said Mrs. Muskrat.

TOM: D'oh!


- End of Chapter 7

--
Joseph Nebus
Math Blog: https://nebusresearch.wordpress.com
Humor Blog: https://nebushumor.wordpress.com
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