... the door slammed behind her, and Muffy realized she was trapped. Trapped in a kitchen. Where they do awful things to dead animals. And where they carve up vegetables with really, really sharp knives.
Speaking of animals, the waiter approached the table where Muffy's friends were sitting. Since today was the CLIMATE group's regular luncheon day, he was very busy and hadn't noticed this group sit down.
The waiter looked up from his notepad and gasped ... "Huh?", he spit out, as he noticed the strange group in front of him. "Uh ... you can't ... that is ... we don't allow ... uh ... oh, dear."
Precious had been busy counting the daisies in the giant bazooka-shaped vase. She interrupted her counting to listen to the waiter's feeble attempts at communication. "Oh, the poor dear", she thought. "I can relate to his speech problems. Every once in a while I have those too. If it hadn't been for that really nice guy from Toastmaster's who came to the orphanage frequently, I'd still have my problem." Precious fondly remembered other things that nice Toastmaster had taught her.
The waiter, obviously nervous about something, hurried away from the table. He motioned to the Hostess who had seated the group. The hostess trotted over to speak with him.
"We can't serve these ... these ... this group!", said the waiter. "You know we don't allow pets in here."
PEST Control (aka: Erroll the Hamster) overheard the waiter's statement.
"PETS???", he screamed. "PETS???"
Bugs immediately jumped up from his seat and got between Erroll and the waiter before Erroll could do any great damage to the poor unsuspecting waiter.
"A talking hamster?", thought the waiter. "Now I've seen everything!"
Bugs explained in great detail that the group was from PEST, and therefore exempt from any ordinary run-of-the-mill rules regarding animals. The bit about the increased radiation levels causing a mutation in Erroll's voice box was reminiscent of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, one of the waiter's favorite movies. He now understood how fortunate he was to be in the presence of greatness.
The waiter looked back towards the table. He saw Erroll still standing on his chair, his nose whiskers quivering with pent up anger. Iggy the Iguana's tounge [sic] was nervously twitching, occasionally snapping up a fly or two from those around Erroll. Octopussy's 8 tentacles were slowly undulating in a lazy 8 pattern, always on alert to reach out and touch someone if necessary. Precious was preoccupied with counting stuff (as usual). And, Rusty Irons was caressing his baseball bat, much like an infant would cuddle with his blankee. There were two empty chairs. One belonged to Bugs. The other was Muffy's, who hadn't returned from the kitchen area.
The waiter, now aware that the group was the infamous PEST team, relaxed. "I'm sorry, sir", he said to Bugs. "I had no idea you were so important to the welfare of the world's conspiracy network. Please accept my apologies. I'll see to it that desserts are on the house today. And, do come again soon."
Bugs returned to his seat. Everybody at the table cheered, and high-fived. Octopussy's high-five was quite complicated, of course. Keeping track of 8 tentacles is a full time job.
Muffy closed the pickup window door softly. She tiptoed back to the table where her friends were sitting.
Bugs Pond (our hero!) stood up like a gentleman should when a lady approaches a table. He smacked Rusty Irons on the back of the head to remind him of the gentlemanly custom.
None of the animals budged, and Precious just continued counting stuff.
Muffy sat down in her chair, looked around furtively to make sure nobody was listening, then put her closed hand on the table.
"Look at this", she said, as she opened her hand to reveal ... |
