"No zealous policerodents or murderous, time-traveling rats. Good!"
...and I'm off.
A busy rodentway looms ahead.
"Wow!" I gasp in wonder at what greets me there.
****ATTENTION: We interrupt for this important announcement:
The Time Under Heaven, by Laurinda Wallace, has just been published by 3-Mice Productions and is available at Amazon.com
You can purchase this inspiring story of faith, love, and relationships
Ahem... Thank you.
Rodents surge past in gabardine suits, stiff collars narrow ties, and straw skimmers; dapper cutaways, pin-striped trousers, waistcoats, ascot ties, and toppers; and dresses long and old-fashioned, short and daring, either on foot or riding wind-up automobiles with big radiators, running boards, and headlights like bug's eyes, and beetle-drawn carriages and wagons. Overhead, colorful billboards loom on the walls of towering buildings, advertising everything from headfur oil to dyspepsia cures and clover cigars. The loud clatter of the autos, the ka-HOOO-ga and blat of their horns; the clickety-skitter of beetles' feet on the pavement, the shouts of cloth-clapped newsies, announcing headlines of the latest scandals and disasters, fill my ears.
"This really is 1922!" I murmur... as though I hadn't truly believed it before.
I step into the stream of rushing rodents and am immediately swept down the rodentway. As I "float" down the avenue, I glimpse a newspaper headline, hear the newsy shout:
"Biz-aare Robbery at Shipyard!"
An alarm goes off in my head. Suddenly, I've got to have one of those newspapers to "read all about it."
I wrench myself loose from the flow and rush up to the newsy -- a young rat with a squint, a scowl, and bad teeth. I pass him a coin from my pinafore pocket. (Thanks, Felix. Geez!) He passes me a paper. I walk away, reading.
"Hoy!" a voice shouts after me. "Stop you! Police!"
Before I can even turn around, a pair of large, ham-fisted Guinea pig coppers grab me.
"Hey! What the--?!" I yelp.
"Quiet!" one of them snarls. "You can do yer explaining' down the station!"
