Benjamin, annoyed.
“A plaaaan?” we cried.
“Why didn’t you say so?” said
Trap.
Benjamin sighed. “Well, I got this plan
from a book I read. It’s called
SCRAM MY
Life on the Run by Fearless Frank the
Adventure Mouse,” he explained. “Fearless
Frank was stuck in a prison cell just like this
one. He tied a rope to one of the bars and
hung outside the window. When the jailer
found the cell empty, he ran off to get help.
Fearless Frank climbed back into the cell
and escaped through the open door.”
Trap scratched his head. “But how are we
going to fit through the bars?” he asked.
“We’ll need to cut through them somehow.”
47
“
We will sing!
”
Benjamin began to dig through his
pockets. He pulled out three sticks of
cheddar-flavored bubble gum, a glow-in-
the-dark yo-yo, and . . . a Swiss army knife!
He opened it, and a small file popped out.
“Do you remember this, Uncle Geronimo?
You gave it to me for my birthday. I take it
with me wherever I go,” squeaked my
nephew.
“This is great!” shouted Trap.
“We’ll take turns filing the bars,” said
Thea. “One of us will have to keep watch.
But. . .what about the noise?” She twirled
her whiskers, deep in thought.
Two minutes later, my sister
jumped up, clapping her paws.
“I’ve got it!’ she cried.
rah! rah! ratS!
We decided that Benjamin should keep
watch while Trap worked away at the bars.
To drown out the noise, Thea and I began
singing at the top of our lungs. I must
admit I never knew my sister had
such a voice. She was truly
awful! She sounded as if
her tail were stuck in
Slobbertooth’s high-
speed blender!
First we sang the
ever-popular “Mouse
Island March.” As
any rodent knows, it
goes like this:
O
u
r
hearts
a
r
e
s
t
r
o
n
g
.
“
W
e
a
r
e
m
i
c
e
,
h
e
a
r
u
s
s
q
u
e
a
k
.
W
e
a
r
e
never
w
e
a
k
.
.
.
”
W
e
a
r
e
b
r
a
v
e
a
n
d
t
r
u
e
.
R
a
h
!
R
a
h
!
R
a
t
s
a
r
e
c
o
m
i
n
g
t
h
r
o
u
g
h
!
”
“
W
e
a
r
e
rats
w
i
t
h
b
a
t
s
.
S
o
s
t
a
n
d
b
a
c
k
,
a
l
l
y
o
u
c
a
t
s
,
Then we sang another oldie but goodie. It
was New Mouse City’s fight song, “Rats
with Bats”:
After a few more battle songs, we moved
on to some more recent tunes. Thea wiggled
her tail to “Nibbling in the Rain.” Benjamin
joined in on “Squeak Goes the Hamster”
and “If You’re Happy and You Know It,
Clap Your Paws.”
50
All of a sudden, Benjamin started squeaking.
claws
, our jailer cat, was on his way.
“Well, well, what’s going on here?” Claws
meowed, squinting at us.
“We are singing to cheer
ourselves up,” I explained,
looking very sad. “We have
given up all hope. You cats
are much too smart for us!”
Claws grinned. “Good, I
like to see a mouse who
knows when he’s beat. I
mean, everyone knows
cats have
bigger
brains than mice,” he laughed. “That should
make us twice as smart, right? Hey, want to
hear me count to ten?” Before we knew it,
Claws was off and counting. He only got
stuck twice, on five and nine.
51
When he was done, we all applauded. I
tried not to clap too hard -- I was afraid
he’d start on the alphabet. Luckily, Claws
just bowed. “OK, Micey,” he giggled, “go
ahead and sing your songs. But no sad
songs, please. I don’t want the other cats to
see me crying.”
What a softie! He was beginning
to grow on me a little. If only
he wasn’t a cat . . .
“Whatever you say,
Boss,” squeaked
TRAP, with a
smirk.
We were almost
ready for our
escape.
SILVER
The night before our escape, I could not
sleep. I missed my comfy bed at home. I
missed my bright cheddar-colored sheets. I
missed my great-aunt Ratsy’s cozy
comforter. “Just another reason to HATE
traveling,” I sighed to myself, tossing and
turning. Moonlight filled the room. I stared
at the wall. It was then that I saw the
drawing inscribed there.
“Slimy Swiss Balls!!”
I yelled, waking up Thea.
“It’s a plan of this ship,” I
whispered. I quickly
made a copy of the
drawing in my diary.
The hearT of a
Courageous Mouse
54
I saw the silver drawing.
“This will help us escape,” I explained.
“Now we’ll know exactly how to get around
this monster-sized ship. See, this is one of
Slobbertooth’s kitchens, here is Whiskers’s
Lounge and Pool Room, and there are the
Cozytime Catnap Quarters. I wonder who
drew this plan on the wall.”
“Maybe a prisoner,” whispered my sister,
stroking the drawing. “Look, there is a date
and a message here. It says
1663.”
I peered closer. The message was written
in Squeakeeze, the ancient language spoken
long ago on Mouse Island. I read it aloud:
“The heart of a courageous mouse
shall always be free. Rodents, be
smart, follow your heart!”
55
Trap had been yakking it up with
claws
, the cat guarding us. That is how
he found out why the pirate cats did not eat
fish. It seemed that the Black Bandit
was allergic! In fact, the very sight
of fish was enough to give him a
terrible itch. So they ate only
snails!
“Yes, it’s an awful
shame,” Claws sighed.
“All those yummy fishies swimming right
below us in the ocean. Even theyknow the
Black Bandit will not let us touch
them. They call us ’fraidy cats. The other
day two kid tunas even tried sunbathing on
56
snail Pudding
HE
our deck. They looked so tasty. Of course,
made us throw them back. ‘If I cannot
eat fish, then NO ONE else can!’ the
Bandit told us.” Claws groaned. “So it’s
snails, snails, and more snails!”
The morning we were to be cooked finally
came. Claws arrived, his keys.
JINGLING
“Hey, there, my little rodents!” he called.
“The chef will soon be here to take charge
of you. While you wait, how about a
little snack? Just think of it as your
final fattening. Eat, drink, and be tasty!”
He collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“OK, get ready,” my cousin whispered
to us. Then he strolled over to Claws.
“You know, Claws, I would just love a
slice of snail tart,” he began. “And could
you put some snail pudding on the side?
You do have snail pudding, don’t you?”
57
claws grinned. “Of course we do, dear
friend!” he meowed. “And I’ll bring you a
delicious side of snail slimethat will
make your fur curl!” He skipped off to the
kitchen, twirling his tail behind him.
As soon as he left, Thea grabbed the
blankets and tied them together to make a
rope. I ran to the window and pulled out the
bar we had filed. Then I lowered myself out
the window. The others followed.
We lined up alongside the silver
tower, holding on for dear life. I couldn’t
stop myself from peeking at the ground. The
sdrop made my head spin. The cannons
below looked like toy weapons, and the cats
looked like furry little ants.
60
We lined up alongside the tower, holding on for dear life.
We waited for just a few minutes, but it
felt like forever. I checked to see if my fur
had turned gray. Suddenly, a nasty smell
drifted out the window. It was the hot snail
pudding. After another minute, we heard a
furious meowing.
“Well, lock me up in a room filled with
bloodhounds and throw away the key!”
shrieked Claws. “Those squeaky, rotten
mice tricked me!”
“Rats!” yelled Twitch, the night watchcat,
running toward the window.
“Someone will lose his tail
because of this!” hissed
Pounce, the head
jailer.
61
Just then, an earsplitting meowing made
our fur stand on end. It was the cats’
alarm siren!
All the pirates ran out on deck. The
hallway was empty.
Quiet as mice, we climbed up the rope
and dropped back into our cell. The door
was open. Not a cat in sight! We hid in the
suits of armor that lined the hall. Seconds
later, we heard a jingling sound. It was the
clink of the BANDIT’S boot buckles!
The sound stopped right in front of us.
“Sniff, snuff,” muttered the Black
62
Meow! Meow!
Bandit, his nose in the air. “You can’t
hide from me, my meaty little mice!” he
meowed. I heard the clinking coming closer
and closer. Then a frantic cry rang out.
“Your Excellency! We cannot find any
pawprints!” a puzzled voice informed the
Bandit.
“Get a grip, you nitwit! Do you
think these mice have wings?” bawled the
Bandit. “I don’t care if you have to search
every inch of this ship
with your bare paws!
Find those mice now!”
Then he headed down
the hall.
Once the Black Bandit had left, I
ran back to our cell and leaned out the
window. Down on the deck, the cats were
racing around in circles, looking for us. Fur
was flying everywhere!
“I think we need a new plan,” I said.
“Anyone have any ideas?”
“I have one!” Trap shrieked. “Let’s
go home!”
“But how are we going to get
there?” Thea squeaked. “We can’t
swim. My pawstroke is awful!”
silver under
The sun
I leaned out the window.
I took out a pen and began to write:
1. We had to cross the ocean to reach
New Mouse City.
2. We could not swim home.
3. We had to force the cats to jump ship!
I stared out over the pirate’s ship,
thinking. The silver deck gleamed
brightly in the hot afternoon sun. A mouse
could go blind looking at all that silver!
Just then, Trap rested his paw on the
mast. “
Yowee!
This ship is as hot as
a bed at the Fry Mouse Tanning Salon!”
I stared at him, eyes wide open. “That’s
it!” I squeaked.
“I know
exactly how
we’re going to
get rid of the
cats!”
“This ship is made of metal. The
silver is so hot it’s burning up,”
I explained. “All we need to do is turn
up the heat. At high noon tomorrow,
we’ll start a
fire
. The whole ship
will get as hot as a frying pan. The
cats will jump overboard, and the
ship will be ours!”
Trap grinned. “I like it,” he
smirked. “We’ll fry them up like
catburgers at the Dog Heaven
Grill!”
“But the Black Bandit
will just get into a lifeboat,”
/>
Thea observed.
like a frying Pan
67
Like A Frying Pan
D
R
O
W
N!
”
I laughed. “That’s the best part,” I
explained. “Their lifeboats are made of
silver, too!”
Benjamin tugged at my jacket. “But,
Uncle, what will happen to the cats? We
can’t let them
he insisted.
He is such a tenderhearted mouslet.
Trap stared at my little nephew as if
Benjamin had just stolen his last Cheesy Chew.
“Little Mousey, who cares? They are cats!”
“I have an idea,” Thea said. “Maybe there
is an island nearby. When the cats jump
ship, they can swim to the island. Let’s go
check out Tomcat Jack’s maps.”
I quickly leafed through
my diary, searching for the
plan of the ship. “There it
is! Tomcat Jack’s control
room! Let’s go!”
We
raced
down the ship’s
silver hallways to the control room. In
the center of the room stood a long silver
69
ho-huM island
table covered with strange seafaring gadgets,
maps, and tools. I peered at a map of the
ocean. “It looks like the nearest island is
something called Ho-hum Island.”
“There’s nothing around that island. It’s
all by itself,” Thea noted.
“Great!” cried Trap. “Those no-good cats
will never be able to leave!”
“There’s just one little problem,” Thea
said. “The Silver Claw is headed away
from the island. If the pirates jump
overboard
tomorrow, they’ll never be
able to swim there. We have to figure out a
way to change the ship’s course.”
Suddenly, my sister pointed to a big
compass in the middle of the room.
“Do you know how a compass works?”
Attack Of The Bandit Cats Page 3