Dryden Ch. 12, Draft 2Chapter 12: Signs and Portents I was a mouse, small even by that standard, covered with soft, brown fur. I was sitting in a miniature stage filled with other field mice, rats and insects. Sitting just beyond that and using his own bloated scrotum as a cushion, a raccoon towered over us, drinking from his bottomless hootch jug in what could in no way be described as moderate. Setting the jug aside and wiping the whisky from his whiskers, he laughed, loud and bawdy, and gestured for me to continue. Adjusting my spectacles, I flipped through the tiny music sheets with my little pink paws until I foun
Dryden Chapter 11, Draft 2Chapter 11: Rain By the time I waded upstream through the river of nobles who seemed insistent on detaining me and made my way out of the mansion, Sly was nowhere in sight. I raced back to the inn as quickly as I could, thinking I could catch up to her along the way. She wasn't at the inn when I got there. According to the innkeeper, he hadn't seen her since she had left with me earlier. When he asked what the problem was, I told him I'd upset her and she'd stormed off. A nervous look came over him. "Oh, you'd better find her and apologize fast. You never know what imps wil
Dryden Chapter 10, Draft 2Chapter 10: The Prince of Thieves After the fuhrer left the party, I found myself surrounded on all sides. Everybody wanted to get to know me, to know what I was planning next, to know if I would come perform at their next celebration. Arrogant enough to believe that my performance had persuaded them to see me in a new light, I beamed like the king of the world. Of course, in retrospect, I realize that I had really been reduced to the same position as Sly. They cared about me less as a person and more as something to increase their status. That I was a more valuable commodity than my companion didn't change the fact that I was still a
Dryden Chapter 9, Draft 2Chapter 9: Social Graces The mayor's house could very well have been a comfortable home for a hill giant for how tall all the rooms were. Following the mayor's butler into the mansion, the first room that greeted us had a fountain full of angels - not the cherubic sort, but the kind of seraphic warriors that you would expect to find in the service of the god of justice - and a marble staircase that must have been ten feet wide. Paintings of various historical and religious heros covered the walls of every hallway we were led through, and every now and then we passed by a generously sculpted bust of the mayors tha