Herbert Fink crawls into the bar with his usual flair, whiskers trailing slightly behind his thin gray mane. He had just left his job at the old Cheese Satis-Factory, and had decided to take the first dip into his retirement money whereupon he entered "The Bar".
His old friends had talked of it in a nastaligic tone recalling happy memories. The emblazened letters shining from above the door read "The Officer's Club", but somehow, the oily, crazed patrons and skeletons hurling about the room made Herbert think that he had aquainted himself with truly mad mice.
Tail whipping back and forth as he manuvered around the floor, he began to wonder why everyone was seated on the ceiling. And, furthermore, why any architect would put seats and tables up there as well.
Then suddenly, it hit him. Actually just at the tip of his tail.
"Dag' gonnit! I'll tear you to pieces if I have to!" Yelled Cicion from the basement above.
- WHOMP!! -
Left foot squashed, Fink screams and cringes in mortal pain as a large black, and heavily oiled footprint evaporates onto the ceiling on top of the mouse.
- WHOMP! WHIP! FLAP! WHIZZ!-
Another four prints appear on the ceiling just around the darting Herbert. He gasps uncontrollably as the prints get closer and closer. He can feel his heart pounding his chest and- and! ......
- SLAM!!-gooshhh..... drip drip... drip... -
Herbert's entrails spray around the room. His tail falls pathetically on the counter above-or, shall I say, below.
"Did I get it?" Cicion calls up.
Tears well up in Anic's eyes, his lower chin trembles...
"Poor thing.... sigh." Anic continues "You lunkhead! Be careful down there."
"But did it work?"
Cold mettle clanging against barstool, Marvin sits down next to Anic with utter depression. "Uh,... no! Keep working!" Anic yells out.
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