Skeeter walked to the park and sat sadly on a bench. There were weasels behind the trees. There were weasels by the picnic tables. There were weasels around the playground.
“There sure are a lot of weasels,” said Skeeter.
“Hold everything!” said a voice above him. “Did you say ‘a lot of weasels’?”
He looked up, and there on a tree branch was a lady rat in a pink trench coat and purple sunglasses.
“Yes,” said Skeeter. “A lot of weasels. There sure are.”
“At last!” said the lady rat. “Someone else sees them, too!”
She dropped onto the bench and took off her sunglasses. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Special Agent Ratilda from Rodential, the rodent mutual aid society. You’ve heard of us, no doubt.”
“Well, no, I can’t say—“ began Skeeter.
“Sure, you have. Our motto? ‘Get a piece of the cheese.’ Right now, I’m on a secret mission. Top secret. Can you keep a secret?”
“Um, unless I forget and—“
“Sure, you can. I’m looking into an alarming rise in the number of weasels. They’re everywhere. But I don’t have to tell you, because you see them, too. So, what’s your name, cat?”
“I’m Skeeter,” said Skeeter.
“Skeeter,” said Ratilda. “Pretty dumb name, but you’re a cat, so it fits. So, Skeeter, how would you like to join me on this perilous and possibly fatal mission.”
“Oh, I don’t think—“
“Sure, you would. Follow me, Deputy Special Agent Skeeter.” Ratilda put on her sunglasses, jumped off the bench, and started off.
“But I’m a cat!” called Skeeter.
“Nobody’s perfect!” called Ratilda. “Come on!”