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June 11, 2010 / lionelbean

Call Me Lishmael

It was cold in the T-Bell this morning. Unseasonably cold. The state of my carrot is evidence enough of that (frosted tips), but you know what was the coldest part of the morning, by far?

Running into the wiliest of my old foes, and having his unnatural albino fur slip through my paws yet again.

When J and I first starting voyaging to the T-Bell, I was very clear about the purpose of our sorties: To hunt down and kill the Great White Tree Rat.

It’s a simple goal. One you’d think would merit a bit of an alley-oop from the thumbsiest member of the pack. But no. In fact, instead of aiding me in this quest, J actively restrains me, by way of this incredibly complicated neck-binding system that he wields from his sickly hairless paws. It’s some future shit.

Anyway, after today’s failed lunge, I turned to J and stared at him, letting him know exactly how much of a disappointment he is to me, and how I expect the pack to cooperate like Stalin’s peasant soldiers in the pursuit of Getting Things That I See And I Want.

J looked back into my eyes with the intensity of an Alpha.

“You’ve been chasing him for so long, Lionel. What would you do if you ever caught him?”

That’s easy.

I’d feast. And then wear the Tree Rat’s skin as a cape, or scarf.

A cape or scarf of pride.


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