Fat & Bones Read Online Free PDF Page B

cat slumped his shoulders and then swerved to show Jimmy his rear end. A shaft of moonlight revealed the cat’s mangled tail. “Do you think it will grow back?” he said.
    The fur was clotted with blood. Jimmy could see the bone. The tail did not look like it would grow back, but Jimmy said, “You betcha.”
    The cat sniffed. “Really?”
    â€œYou betcha.”
    â€œOh, I always knew you mice were a decent sort of creature,” said the cat. “Beyond decent tasting, I mean. You’re a sensitive lot.”
    Wheeze.
    The cat shifted on his haunches. “Oh dear, oh dear,” he said. “She just won’t stop crying.” He licked the tears from the weeping eyes.
    A large nose south of the eyes discharged another wet, wheezing noise.
    Jimmy backed up against the edge of the cup. The spoon banged against the glass.
    â€œWhere are you going, mousie-pie?” The moon shone on the cat’s face, on his narrowed green eyes, on his pink protruding tongue, on his white teeth.
    Jimmy didn’t answer. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t want to stick around on that wheezing, weeping flat face any longer. He jumped into the measuring cup and took off, working the spoon left, right, left, right, as if his life depended on it. Which it did.

    The cat’s rising paw blocked out the moonbeam. Jimmy ducked, feeling the wind above his head.
    The cat’s hisses sent waves across the water, driving the measuring cup forward, threatening to capsize it.
    Soon darkness overtook the kitchen.
    Jimmy heard, wheeze, sniff —then, “Oh mousie-pie, oh mousie-pie, sweet little mousie-pie.” But from a distance now. The voice grew faint.
    Exhausted, Jimmy collapsed at the bottom of the measuring cup. For the first time in his life, he wished he were bigger, stronger, hairier, and more threatening. He should have shoved the souvenir spoon into the cat’s gaping wound.
    He should have … he should have …
    Cold, alone, and miserable, Jimmy realized that the reason he had never spoken to Alice was because he had done so little in his life. And thus he had nothing to say.
    Nothing but “you betcha.”
    And what girl wanted to hear that all the time? Those were not the words of love. Those were the words of a small mouse. An insignificant mouse. A mouse that—
    â€œAhoy there!”
    Jimmy’s head shot up. He had reached the other side of the kitchen, but not in time.
    In the shadowy darkness, Smitty stood on top of the stove. And next to him, big, beautiful Alice.
    Oh, that cursed Smitty! That handsome, cursed Smitty!
    Jimmy sprang to his feet. He threw his fists into the air. He opened his mouth to finally curse Smitty to his face when the measuring cup flipped over, throwing Jimmy out into the open water.
    He surfaced just in time to see Smitty leap off the stove and perform a flawless swan dive.
    Smitty threw his arm around Jimmy’s neck and dragged him to the side of the stove, where a cupboard door stood open.
    Alice stood in the cupboard doorway, reaching out her hand.
    â€œGot him?” said Smitty.
    â€œI sure do!” said Alice, hauling Jimmy inside with ease.
    Bedraggled and half drowned, Jimmy stared at the two faces studying him.
    â€œHis name’s Jimmy,” said Smitty.
    â€œYes, I know,” said Alice.
    She knew his name. Her voice was rich and deep. It sent shivers through him.
    â€œHe’s cold,” said Alice. “Smitty, go fetch him a blanket.”
    â€œRight away,” said Smitty.
    â€œOh, you poor dear,” said Alice, shaking Jimmy’s whiskers free of water.
    Jimmy gazed upon his beloved and opened his mouth.
    This was his chance. It was now or never. Smitty was gone. And Jimmy was alone with Alice.
    He had seen the weeping eyes, fled the capricious cat, and had braved the kitchen floor for this very opportunity. He must speak. He must tell her how much he loved her. He practically