Meeshtar's Disapproval of Miss Elvira Smugglepants

MEESHTAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE MEOWSE HOUSE--AND WHAT HE FOUND THERE (Part 44) ...continued from May 2nd (Here's part one)

Elvira Smugglepants was next on the stage, and if Meeshtar thought a teddybear was a weird talent, he was about to be electrocuted from shock! Miss Smugglepants's talent took the gold medal, for, you see, from the pocket of her frilly pink knickers, Miss Elvira whipped out a sardine! She dangled it in front of her face for the entire audience to see.

The Meowses in their seats booed. They hissed. They shouted cruel names. They tossed their shirt buttons. Their chubby faces flared as red as the flickering "Emergency Exit" sign at the back of the theater, and their clenched knuckles turned bleach-white.

Miss Smugglepants took no notice. She smiled, twirled her ringlets with her finger, and curtseyed.

That was when it occurred to Meeshtar that he hadn't seen that sardine growing on the bush, or he would have picked that instead of the stupid scissors. At least a sardine would have been worth something. He could have eaten that! But, ooooh no. Miss Smugglepants must have gotten to it first. 

Meeshtar bared his two teeth, growled, and thumped his tail against the hardwood. If Miss Smugglepants won, so help him, he was going to take it up with the jerk who was in charge of this event. He'd be sure to let them know that the show was rigged, because, after all, Meeshtar was now certain that someone had known Meeshtar's true talent was eating, and it was obvious that they hid the sardine because they wanted Meeshtar to lose!

It wasn't the fact that Elvira was fortunate enough to pick the sardine, that got Meeshtar's tail thumping. It was what Elvira did with the sardine that made his fur twist in knots. You see, she didn't eat the fish. Nor, did she attempt to cook with it. No..., apparently no one had informed Miss Smugglepants that sardines are a food item. 

As Elvira Smugglepants rose from her curtsey, the conductor tapped his stick on his music stand, raised it in the air, and with a flick of the wrist, the orchestra struck the first chord of "Los Dos Sardinas,"--a popular tango song that Meeshtar was never fond of, and certainly didn't like any better now! 

Miss Smugglepants winked at the audience, and as she stepped forward into the spotlight, the sardine grew. It grew and grew until it was a wee bit taller than she was. It wrapped its fins around her waist, and the two of them strutted across the stage.

Meeshtar couldn't bare to witness this display, because all the while she was spinning in circles with the sardine in her arms, Meeshtar drooled. He wanted to eat that fish! It was the good thing the Meowse guards had him tied up, or he might not have been able to stop himself from doing just that. Besides. He didn't really see the point of this silly talent. Why on Earth would she tango with a fish?

Nevertheless, the odd couple tangoed across the stage, over to... a sewing machine? 

Meeshtar scratched his head. Now where did that come from? His eyes bugged as he watched Miss Smugglepants flip on the machine, and tap her foot on a pedal beneath the sewing table. Faster and faster her foot tapped. Her nimble fingers pushed the golden material beneath the pounding needle. 

The sardine hovered over, watching, and every once in a while raised his fins above his head for a cheer from the audience--though, he didn't receive anything more than a muttered groan, and a few tossed carrots that smacked him in the gills. 

As "Los Dos Sardinas" crashed into its tango crescendo, Miss Smugglepants flashed the audience her masterpiece: a glittering tuxedo, just the sardine's new size. It was a costume fit for a king! 

Meeshtar growled. Drool slithered out his parted lips and puddled on the floor. He inhaled the salty-scented sardine through his mouth, so he might taste its scent in the air. Why, oh why, wasn't she eating that fish? He tugged on the rope around his neck, but it was no use, for the guard only pulled tighter on the other end. A dagger jabbed into Meeshtar's back. 

"Meowch!" 

Meeshtar sighed and laid back down in his drool puddle, closed his eyes, and in his mind's eye, pictured a sardine fillet with a lemon wedge on a plate, a napkin tied 'round his neck, and a dish of fresh whole milk--the kind with the cream on top--to wash it down.

Miss Smugglepants slipped the tuxedo over the fish's head and worked his fins through the sleeves. The sardine straightened his back. He stood on the tip of his wobbling fins and waved at the audience. 

The Meowses booed and hissed. The sardine slumped back into Miss Smugglepants's arms, and the two of them took off, tangoing across the stage once again.

But as the song reached its final, strutting chords, the sardine's face flushed red. Meeshtar swore he could see steam rising out of its eyes and gills, a bit like a tea-pot about to boil over. In fact, the sardine actually looked like he was about to burst! And what do you know. That fish shot out of Miss Smugglepants's arms, up, up, up into the air, and, Ka-BOOM-Ka-BANG! The sardine exploded, new suit and all, into the most spectacular grand-finale of a fireworks display Meeshtar had ever seen! Bright flashes, deafening booms, bangs, and brilliant colors filled the theater. Meeshtar had to cover his eyes, for fear of being blinded. 

Apparently, Meeshtar learned later on that this particular sardine had been born of the Mushroomous Cloudous species--which means, they detonate when they reach the age of one-hundred-plus-twenty-plus-three! And to think Meeshtar never even knew that Sardine bombs existed. He doubted that there were such a thing back home, but if there were, he would have to avoid eating sardines all together, for fear his stomach might be ripped apart. He was suddenly grateful that he'd picked his scissors instead of that fish. In fact, Meeshtar decided that someone was obviously looking out for him, and after the show, he would thank the person in charge for not letting him eat that sardine.

As the fireworks and "Los Dos Sardinas" came to an end, the toad hopped back on top of his hat, the Aye Aye once again strutted onto the stage, and the hanky was raised over Miss Smugglepants's head. The Aye Aye's meter slumped into the red zone. He squeezed his eyes shut and giggled. 

Meeshtar blew air out the side of his mouth and rolled his eyes. He'd had about enough of this nonsense. He wasn't too excited, either, that his turn was next, and what good would his scissors do for him?

A low rumble of "Booooooooooo," and "Ssssssssssss," filled the room. One single solitary Meowse in the back, near the emergency exit, raised a pompom and gave a "Whoop, whoop!" and a "Holla!" But it wasn't enough to raise the meter any further than the gold zone. Nope, the arrow hit that gold zone, and wiggled no more than a slight tremor higher. 

Meeshtar wasn't about to give a shout-out, either, even though he felt kind of sorry for Miss Smugglepants. That would be helping the competition, after all. 

"That performance earned a three, solid." said the Aye Aye, and he scampered off the stage.

Poor Miss Smugglepants, her head drooping and waggling between her shoulders, slumped off the stage and collapsed into her bucket seat. 

The theater grew abnormally silent, except for one Meowse, who giggled as he tossed whole watermelons at the--now splattered and drenched--conductor, who, in return, shook his fist. 

The guard, who had nearly fallen asleep against the wall, gasped. With his eyes bulging from their sockets, he leaped to his feet, tugging Meeshtar by the neck in one hand, and swinging Meeshtar's scissors in the other. Meeshtar's belly-fat dragged against the hardwood, knotting his fur, burning his skin, and collecting splinters. 

Oh, poor Meeshtar! I'm afraid his stomach rumbled and tilted. His eyes wobbled. His head spun all woozy at the sight of the audience. The spotlight twirled around the theater, then came to rest on Meeshtar's face. Just before poor Meeshtar coughed up a dry hairball, the guard removed the rope from around Meeshtar's neck, and handed him the scissors.

To be continued...

Meeshtar Witnesses McGraul's Ummm... Display!

MEESHTAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE MEOWSE HOUSE--AND WHAT HE FOUND THERE (Part 43) ...Continued from April 5th (here's part one)

Roaring cheers filled the theater. Peanuts flew from left to right. As the toad yelled, “Let the festival begin,” the lights dimmed, and a single spotlight fell on Jonas McGraul. The old Meowse bowed for the audience. 

The Meowses quieted in their seats--minus the one in front who had moved on from peanut tossing, and now took pleasure from pelleting the back of the conductor’s head with avocado pits, and the one next to him that snickered at the conductor’s lack of reaction. 

The guards dragged Meeshtar across the floor, into the side wings to await his turn. Meeshtar growled, and tapped his fingers on the hardwood.

Jonas McGraul pulled out a teddy bear and clutched it against his chest. 

Meeshtar scratched his head. What kind of a talent is that? But the teddy bear did make him curious. Meeshtar watched as McGraul set up a tea party, with pretty pink cups on pretty pink saucers, a flowery teapot, a vase full of violets, and a delicate-lace table cloth that he spread across the floor like a picnic blanket. What in the world could this old Meowse possibly be doing? Meeshtar suddenly didn’t feel so bad about his scissors.

Then, McGraul plopped his teddy bear down on the floor, stood in front of the audience, and recited:

“Once Upon A Hay-penny

Oh, so long ago--

Must have been six and twenty

Years ago, you know--

That old and blind Grandpa Lenny

Entered a game show.

Although he had tricks of plenty,

Grandpa was too slow.”

The orchestra stuck a chord, and McGraul sang out:

"Ooooh, Grandpa was too slow

To keep up with the show.

His knees were weak.

His joints went CREAK!

But, boy, his eyes did glow."

McGraul waved his hands in the air and waltzed behind the teddy bear, who--and let me tell you, Meeshtar rubbed his eyes, scratched his head, and squealed at this sight--actually opened its mouth and spoke! Not only that, but he recited, from memory, the second half of McGraul's poem:

“But Grandpa was, as you can see,

No idiot, sir!

For, he kicked himself in the knee,

This entrepreneur.

He wobbled, then shouted, “Whoopee!

I love a good slur!”

Then served the audience chai tea

(which we all prefer).”

"It has to be a trick," Meeshtar muttered. He pounded his fingers on the stage and looked away. "That Meowse is talking for the bear." You see, Meeshtar had seen ventriloquists--those impostors who carry a dummy, pull strings to make the dummy's mouth move, and then speak for the dummy while trying to keep their own lips from moving (Yeah, Meeshtar'd seen right through those)--before on television. 

But then...

Two voices burst into song! "Oooh, Grandpa was too slow, to keep up with the show." 

Meeshtar's eyes shot back at the Meowse and the bear, who now sang the refrain in unison! 

"Merrrt!" Meeshtar slid as far back against the wall as he could without choking himself with the rope around his neck. 

The audience whooped and hollered! They leaped up and down in their bucket seats, cheering, bantering, and tossing up top-hats.

Meeshtar scratched his head. How in the world did the teddy bear speak? Once again, Meeshtar regretted his scissors.

He rubbed his eyes harder, as the orchestra kicked it into high gear, playing “Old Simon’s Waltz”--a song Meeshtar wasn’t very fond of, but would tolerate, if he had a good cushion to sleep on--and the old Meowse and his teddy bear wandered through the audience, serving up chai tea with milk, from silver tea-trays. Yep, not only did McGraul get this teddy to talk; he got it to walk and serve tea! Oh dear. Poor Meeshtar could never top that. Nope! Not in a-million-and-one years!

The audience members slurped their tea, tossed their teacups in the air, then their saucers, and whooped up a tea-party frenzy. 

The long-haired toad stood, once again, on his top-hat. The spotlight spun around the room and landed on the toad's glowing green face. "Aye Aye!" he called out, tapping his wand against his hat.

The orchestra struck its final note, McGraul and teddy took their bows--careful not to spill the tea--and a creature Meeshtar had never seen before--a strange cross between a monkey, a koala bear, a bat, an opossum, and a mouse, with spoon-shaped ears and long fingers--pitter-pattered across the stage.

"Attention!" shouted the toad.

The Aye Aye--a creature Meeshtar hoped never to see again, so help him--straightened his shoulders and saluted. And that was when Meeshtar saw it--a rainbow in the center of the Aye Aye's furry stomach with a spinning arrow in the center (a bit like a clock), and a label above it that read: "Applaud-O-Meter."

Now Meeshtar had seen it all! He scratched his head. If he was home, he would be eating right about now, because eating is what Meeshtar did when something made him nervous. But he wasn't. So, he muttered a "Merrt," and tucked his head between his legs.

McGraul stood on the stage in front of the Toad and his top hat, waving his cane in the air. The teddy stood at his side, balancing the tea tray on his nose. The audience members danced in their seats, and tossed their tea-cups full of tea at the now drenched conductor.

"Silent!" Shouted the toad.

The Meowses slumped down in their bucket seats.

The toad reached into his shawl and pulled out a hanky. "Meter, on!" he said.

The Aye Aye giggled, blinked its eyes, and the meter in his stomach sprang to life! The arrow slumped into the red, where it rested. The rainbow twinkled--red, orange, gold, yellow, green, baby blue, royal blue, purple, then back again.  A mechanical ca-ching ca-ching, like the tune of a winning slot machine, burst out the Aye Aye's mouth, and his bug-eyes rolled in circles.

The toad raised the hanky above McGraul and his teddy.

The crowd cheered, stomped their feet, and hopped in their seats. The arrow moved out of the red and entered the orange, then the gold. 

The crowd raised their voices louder. 

The arrow continued to rise. It moved into the yellow, the green, the baby blue, and all the way to the black line between the baby and royal blue, before it stopped moving altogether. "That's an eight, solid!" shouted the Aye Aye, and he danced back off the stage, with little more than a salute and a fare-the-well.

McGraul danced a jig and "wooped" himself back into the audience with his cane above his head. Meeshtar sighed out a long, "Merrrt," for, you see, there was no way he could beat McGraul's talking teddy tea-party with his pair of scissors, and no way his scissors would earn a score higher than an eight. He was doomed, and had to find a way out of this theater. Fast!

To be continued...

Meeshtar Goes for the Snip!

MEESHTAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE MEOWSE HOUSE--AND WHAT HE FOUND THERE (Part 42) ... continued from March 21st (Here's part one)

A DING! went off in Meeshtar's brain. Scissors may not help him much in a talent contest, but at the moment, they were just what he needed to escape. He opened the clasps, pointed the sharpened blades at the rope around his neck, and...

The guard reached down and snatched up Meeshtar's scissors.

The toad chuckled. "Nice try," he said. "Afraid your little plan failed. Those scissors where a poor choice." The toad plopped from the tree stump, and called over his shoulder, "Best prepare yourself for the hangman's noose! No one has ever won this contest with scissors."

A shiver rose up Meeshtar's spine. Now what would he do? As the guards dragged him through the forest, over the rolling hills, and in through the stage door beneath a beat-up awning, Meeshtar's mind kept conjuring images of himself dangling on a spit, over a roaring fire, and the Long-Haired Toad standing before him with a bib tied around his neck, sharpening a knife's blade against his fork's handle.

Meeshtar's legs quivered. That was when he realized that they had shriveled. Why, they were three sizes smaller than before. Not to mention, his fur had fallen out, and his peachy legs were bare! "Merrrrrt!"

Now his legs were going Meowse! It was all over. Yep, it was a lost cause, for you see, there was very little of the old Meeshtar left. Only his tail, ears, and torso were still cat; and, well, Meeshtar was certain those changes weren't far behind.

So, Meeshtar didn't struggle when the guards placed him on a fluffy, pink cushion in the center isle of the theater, surrounded by cheering Meowses, who were chucking peanuts into the orchestra pit. In fact, he couldn't help but giggle at the conductor, a hare in a blue suit with a lava-colored face, who kept poking his eyes over the railing to glare, and tapping his conductor's stick at the audience--as if that scared anyone!

The toad took center stage. He flipped his top-hat in the air. As it twirled, it grew, grew, and grew, until it was the size of a tennis ball--and to a Meowse, that's huge! He hopped on his hat, pulled a magic wand out of a pocket in his shawl, and PRESTO! The Meowse audience flopped down in their seats, the conductor ducked behind his music stand, and...

It began to rain. Yes, right there in the theater! A cumulous cloud formed--you know, the kind of cloud that holds rain, lightning, and hail--and rain droplets pummeled Meeshtar on the head. Then, came the hail. Umbrellas popped up right and left. Meeshtar didn't have one, so he cuddled up next to his neighbor. Apparently, his neighbor didn't want to share. Meeshtar was shoved back into his own seat, to endure all that the cloud had to offer. Meeshtar groaned and shielded his head with his arms.

"This is my talent," said the toad. "In order to win this talent contest, the contestants have to do something more powerful than this!" And with that, he called off the rains.

Meeshtar's eyes rolled toward the pair of scissors in the guard's hand, and "Merrrrrt!" He cowered in his seat. No way would a pair of scissors do anything as powerful as create a rainstorm. There was no doubt now, Meeshtar was doomed!

The toad waved his wand once more. A rainbow of dust-sized particles swarmed into a giant mass, hovering before the toad. They clung together, forming a fluid ball that warped and twisted in mid-air. "Ashen Spellen," the toad said, waving his wand. The particles wiggled and shifted into the form of a name. "Our first contestant is, Jonas McGraul!"

Meeshtar sighed, and sunk deeper into his cushion. Yet, he knew he was going to be called eventually.

An old Meowse with silver fur and a walking stick, wobbled onto the stage. He raised his stick above his head and "Woop, Woop!" riled up the audience. The Meowses cheered, hollared, and tossed peanuts at the conductor, who, again, glared over the railing. Meeshtar chuckled.

The toad raised his wand up higher, and as he twirled it in circles, the particles spun back into a ball. "Ashen Spellen," he said again. The particles formed a new name.

Meeshtar closed his eyes.

"The second contestant will be, Elvira Smugglepants."

A spry Meowse covered her mouth, the excitement pouring from her lips in squeals. She scampered up to the stage and bowed.

The audience hissed, booed, and chucked peanuts harder at the conductor. One particularly rowdy peanut smacked the conductor in the eye. Meeshtar roared with laughter. His cackles and guffaws didn't last too long, for, before he knew what had happened, the dust particles had spelled out his own name; and even though Meeshtar tried to hide behind his neighbor, the guards had him by the neck. They dragged him onto the stage, and as they did, Meeshtar's back melted into a Meowse's curve and his torso shrank! "Merrrrrrrt!"

The guards tugged Meeshtar along the hardwood stage on his belly, and dropped him so he was third in line. He covered his eyes with his hands and cried out a long, "Merrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!"

Yep, it was all over for Meeshtar. He was in this talent contest, whether he liked it or not. Furthermore, he was nearly all Meowse, whether he liked it or not--and, let me tell you, Meeshtar liked it not! There was no way that his scissors would ever save him now.


To Be Continued...

Meeshtar Plucks His Talent

MEESHTAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE MEOWSE HOUSE--AND WHAT HE FOUND THERE (Part 41) ... continued from March 19th (here's part one)

A bitter chill tore through Meeshtar’s fur. He trembled.

Something rustled in the brambles and bullrushes.

Goosebumps crawled up Meeshtar’s spine. He turned slowly toward the forest. “Hello?” he said, before he realized what a terrible idea it was to call out to an unseen beast. He ducked behind the weeping willow, and watched.

A pea-green creature with dark, shifting eyes hopped over the brambles and vines, then landed in a squat. It’s belly-fat oozed over it’s hind legs. 

Meeshtar blinked and rubbed his eyes. The creature was a toad, that was certain. More warts than Meeshtar had ever seen, ran down the length of its skin. But it wasn’t right to call it a toad, for on it’s head, a long mess of black hair waved in the breeze!

There was something about that toad, too, that Meeshtar didn’t trust. “I hope he hasn’t seen me,” Meeshtar whispered, then ducked further behind the tree trunk.

Two Meowse guards emerged from the bullrushes, their daggers slicing right and left at the weeds, forging a path.

“Did y’all find him?” the toad asked, tugging his purple, knitted shawl tighter around his shoulders. His hair twisted in the breeze, beneath his top-hat. 

Meeshtar drew back against the tree trunk, so as not to be seen, and listened.

“Doesn’t seem like he’s been over here,” said one of the guards.

“No footprints or anything,” said the other.

“Good,” said the toad, “we’ll be here waiting when he shows up, then.”

Meeshtar realized they must be talking about him; though, why they were waiting for him, he didn’t know. What did this crazy toad want with Meeshtar? Meeshtar gazed into the forest. “I need to get away from the spaghetti,” Meeshtar whispered, “but...”

“Wait!” shouted one of the guards, “what’s that?”

Meeshtar gasped, covered his mouth, and held his breath. He stood perfectly still, his back straight against the tree.

“It appears, someone’s been digging,” said the toad. “The shovel’s been disturbed. The bucket is gone!”

“Yes,” said one of the guards, “and look... footprints!”

Meeshtar’s breath clenched in his throat. He looked down at his feet. They were covered in tomato sauce.

“Follow those prints!” said the toad. “He can’t have gone far!”

Meeshtar pawed at the tree. “Drat,” he muttered. You see, without his claws, he couldn’t get enough leverage to leap into the branches. 

Something grabbed Meeshtar’s tail.

“I got him!” shouted a guard.

“Over here!” said the other, and nabbed Meeshtar by the backpack.

“Good work, y’all,” said the toad.

Meeshtar tugged as hard as he could, trying to get away, but the guards had too strong of a grip.

The toad swung a looped rope in the air, then brought it down on Meeshtar. The loop tightened around his neck.

“We’ve heard all about how you escaped the Meowse Ball,” said the toad. He handed the rope to a guard, who, now having Meeshtar by the neck, released Meeshtar’s backpack. Then the toad leaned in close to Meeshtar’s face. Meeshtar could smell the dead flies on its breath. 

“No one escapes on my watch.” The toad sneered, growled, and turned away, hopping toward the forest. “Come on y’all. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

Meeshtar scratched his head. What schedule? Meeshtar had made no appointments.

A guard jabbed Meeshtar with his dagger.

“Meowch!” 

Meeshtar leaped forward. Down the forest path, the guards daggers poked, prodded, and stabbed Meeshtar’s backside, forcing him to follow the roguish toad.

By the time they reached the clearing, Meeshtar had a headache, a backside-ache, and a temperament to match the tomato paste on his britches! He had a good mind to bake those guards into a Meowsey-pie! Yep, Meeshtar meant business. He may not have his claws or his teeth, but his torso hadn’t changed yet. This made him slightly more agile than a Meowse. So he turned toward the guard with the rope, raised his arms, and gnashed his two teeth.

Meeshtar nearly torpedoed himself into the guard’s dagger, when he caught sight of the glinting blade. The dagger appeared to have been freshly sharpened. Meeshtar halted his attack. He realized, you see, that it just wouldn’t make sense to attack the guards while they were armed and expecting it. Meeshtar decided the best thing to do would be to wait until they were distracted, and then POUNCE! 

So Meeshtar followed orders, and took the coin the toad gave him. He dropped it into a coin-slot on the side of an old, snow covered tree stump. The ground rattled. The trees shook. Roots and leaves sprouted out of the soil, surrounding Meeshtar’s trembling legs.

Strange items grew on the drooping plant-leaves, such as violins, paintbrushes, and typewriters. Each item had a price tag on it, all of which read: 1 Farthing.

“One item per contestant," the toad said, "chose wisely.” His lip sneered. “Your life depends on it.”

Meeshtar scratched his head. “But what are they?” he asked.

“Talents, what else?” the toad said, “for the talent show, of course. Pick a flute, and you'll be entered as a musician. Pick a marionette, and we'll enter you as a ventriloquist. But you best get picking, 'cause time is running short.” Then he tapped the watch on his wrist.

“Merrrrt!” 

Meeshtar did not like the idea of a talent show one bit. As far as he knew, his only talent was eating. He didn’t see any teeth, a cat dish, or a stomach growing on the plants. But the guards were watching, and time was ticking. So Meeshtar closed his eyes, and with another sighing, “Merrrrrrrrrt,” Meeshtar plucked a pair of scissors.

To be continued...

Meeshtar Racks Up A Fee

MEESHTAR'S ADVENTURES IN THE MEOWSE HOUSE--AND WHAT HE FOUND THERE (Part 40) ... continued from March 17th (Here's part one)

The individual strands in the spaghetti river wound around Meeshtar’s legs. 

Meeshtar gasped. He kicked, trying to free them. 

The pasta twisted and knotted around his body. 

Meeshtar panted and kicked harder. 

The spaghetti tugged and pulled. 

Meeshtar struggled to keep his head above the river. The more he struggled, the more it pulled; and the more it pulled, the more Meeshtar’s muscles ached. This is it, he thought, I’m going to die in a river of spaghetti. 

The spaghetti tugged him beneath the surface. Meeshtar’s limbs went limp. His lungs stung, releasing the last of their air. His breath seeped into the tomato sauce. Meeshtar’s eyelids fluttered closed.

Suddenly, someone gripped him by the tail. Whoever it was, tugged Meeshtar to the surface. 

He gasped, hacked, and, “Meowch!”

Meeshtar didn’t struggle, and thank goodness for that. Another minute in the spaghetti, and he might have been nothing more than someone’s meatball!

It was a turtle that pulled him free. The turtle flipped Meeshtar through the air, and caught him on its back. “Sorry for the delay, sorry for the delay,” the turtle sang, “was droppin’ off my last fare, I was.”

Meeshtar hacked up some pasta sauce. “What?”

The turtle chuckled. “Where is it you’re tryin’ to git, young sir?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Need a location, young man, or the fare’s extra steep,” said the turtle.

“I just want out of this spaghetti,” Meeshtar said, “I want to get to the shore.”

The turtle nodded its head. Something tick-tick-ticked, and DING! The turtle printed a receipt out it’s mouth. 

Meeshtar took the receipt, and read the slip of paper. It said: 

Destination: Shore. 

Fare = fifteen salamanders, and three eggs 

(tax, detours, and extra services not included.)

“But I don’t have these things,” Meeshtar said.

“Then you best be git’en um young man,” the turtle said. “To the shore, we go.”

Meeshtar had no idea where-on-planet-Meowse to get the salamanders and eggs, but he wasn’t going to worry. He was safe, for the moment. Besides, Meeshtar could easily outrun the turtle if the turtle got violent about his fee.

The turtle set off, pumping it’s flippers through the pasta. All the while, a fare meter ticked away on the shell, at the base of the turtle’s neck. Meeshtar watched as the numbers rolled upward in two columns; one with a picture of a salamander at the top, and another adorned with a picture of an egg. Meeshtar gulped. The longer Meeshtar rode the turtle, the more he’d owe. He didn’t like the feeling of being in debt.

The turtle crept along at a trifling pace, and Meeshtar’s face steamed up. You see, the turtle hadn’t even turned toward the shore yet. And Meeshtar already owed two salamanders!

“Excuse me,” Meeshtar said, trying to be polite, but each time the meter clicked up another number, Meeshtar’s heart beat faster, which made his blood boil a little more, and he could hardly control his balled-up fists. “I thought we were going to the shore.”

“Oh, we are, we are,” the turtle sang, “sorry, young man, ‘fraid I can’t go any faster. You know how much this muck pulls.”

“But why are we going down the river?” Meeshtar squeezed his fists tighter. “The shore’s over there!” He pointed at the riverbank.

“There’s only one shore, young man, and it’s three miles ahead, at least.” said the Turtle.

Meeshtar realized, at that moment, that this turtle ride was part of the trial. It was part of the Turbaned Meowse’s trap. “Then drop me off here,” Meeshtar said. He needed to get away from the path described in canto six, if he could. But at the moment, the turtle was leading Meeshtar right to where the Turbaned Meowse wanted him.

“Fare’s been set,” said the turtle. “There’s no going back on the fare. No unscheduled stops. You owe, what you owe.”

Meeshtar’s tail flopped from left to right to left to right. His eyes shifted from left to right to left to right. “I wonder if I could jump to shore,” he mumbled. But then he remembered the tugging spaghetti and thought better of it. No, poor Meeshtar was trapped for the moment. He’d have to find another way to get out of the trial. And so, he rode the turtle through the muck, all the way to the shore.

The turtle crawled up to the shore and Meeshtar climbed off his shell, onto the riverbank.

“Surprised the river made it to shore,” the turtle said, “why the last time I tried to get here, it was impassable! This section was under construction.”

“You’re the second one to say such things,” said Meeshtar. Though now it all made sense. When the Chef said the river would never reach the shore, he meant this particular shore. The Chef, Meeshtar realized, must have been working for the Turbaned Meowse. No wonder he called the spaghetti “Royal!” It’s the Turbaned Meowse’s spaghetti!

“A-hem.” The turtle held out its flipper.

Meeshtar looked down at the meter. It now said he owed, “Twenty-three salamanders and twelve eggs!” Meeshtar's eyes shifted from the meter to the receipt the turtle had printed. "Quite a difference in price!"

“Tax, and fee for savin’ your life included,” the turtle said, with a sly grin.

Meeshtar gasped. “But I told you, I don’t have these things!”

The turtles eyes flamed up. “And I told you,” he growled, “To. Git. Them!”

Meeshtar scrambled on his back, up the side of the riverbank. “Where do I... git them?”

The turtle crawled forward till he hovered over Meeshtar’s abdomen. “At the bank. Where else?”

Meeshtar glanced around the shore. “But I don’t see a...” 

And that was when the flashing sign caught his eye. It said: Spaghetti River National Bank & Trust. A golden arrow pointed at the riverbank. A shovel and a bucket rested against a weeping willow tree’s trunk.

“Best get digging,” the turtle said.

And so, Meeshtar dug for the salamanders and eggs, straining a muscle here, panting and resting there, until finally, he had dug up his fee. He gave the bucket of squirming salamanders and--believe it or not, they were hard-boiled--eggs to the turtle, who gripped the bucket’s handle with his wrinkled lips, bowed his head, turned, and flipper-flopped into the spaghetti river, leaving Meeshtar alone on the shore. 

Although the riverbank, with it’s bullrushes and surrounding forest, appeared still, Meeshtar didn’t feel quite alone. No, Meeshtar felt an eerie presence in the woods behind him, and he didn’t like it one bit.

To be continued...