Mrs. Noodlekugel and Four Blind Mice, Page 2

  There was not a mouse to be seen.

  A policeman came along. “We are looking for four runaway mice,” Mrs. Noodlekugel told the policeman.

  “Where did you see them last?” the policeman asked.

  “Just here,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. “They ran out of the restaurant.”

  “Can you describe the mice?” the policeman asked.

  “They are mice,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. “They are gray. They are small. There are four of them.”

  “What are their names?” the policeman asked.

  “We just call them mice,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. “We do not know their names.”

  “I will help you look for them,” the policeman said. He began to walk up and down, looking for the mice. “Here, mice!” he called. “Nice mousie, mousie, mousie! Where are you, mice?”

  There was not a mouse to be seen.

  They came to a narrow space, an alley between two buildings.

  “Let us look here,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said.

  In the alley, they saw four mice sitting on the lid of a garbage can. With them, on top of the garbage can, was a long and skinny yellow cat with one ragged ear and a squinty eye.

  “Is dese your mices?” the cat said.

  “Yes!” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. “Naughty mice! Why did you run away?”

  The mice looked down at their feet and played with their whiskers nervously.

  “Saw dese mices,” the yellow cat said. “Mices not belong here. Told them sit still. Then think what do with mices. Then you come.”

  “So these are the mice?” the policeman asked.

  “Yes, they are naughty mice,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said.

  “I am glad you found them,” the policeman said. “I will be going now.”

  “Thank you for helping us look for the mice,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. “Will you join us for a cup of tea and a piece of cheesecake at Dirty Sally’s?”

  “Thank you,” said the policeman. “May I have Nesselrode pie instead?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. And to the yellow cat, she said, “We would like to thank you for taking care of the mice. Please join us, too.”

  “Want ice cream with sardines,” the yellow cat said.

  “They have no sardines,” Mr. Fuzzface said. “But the cheesecake is good.”

  “OK,” said the yellow cat.

  Mrs. Noodlekugel, Nick and Maxine, Mr. Fuzzface, the four mice, the policeman, and the yellow cat were seated around the wobbly table.

  “Please take the mice’s cheesecake away,” Mrs. Noodlekugel told the monkey waiter. “They have had enough. And please bring Nesselrode pie for the policeman and a piece of cheesecake for the yellow cat. They are our guests.”

  “Dis is nice,” said the yellow cat.

  “We were noticing that you can talk,” Maxine said to the yellow cat.

  “I noticed that, too,” said the policeman.

  “But you talk differently from me,” Mr. Fuzzface said. “I was taught to speak by Mrs. Noodlekugel.”

  “Was learned to talk by rough sailormen,” the yellow cat said. “Probably why not talk nice like you.”

  “Are you an offshore kitty?” Mrs. Noodlekugel asked.

  “First was railroad cat,” the yellow cat said.

  “I was a railroad cat,” Mr. Fuzzface said. “And my father was a railroad cat.”

  “Took train to San Francisco,” the yellow cat said. “In San Francisco, taken aboard big ship. Ship went away for years and years. Not able to write. Besides, didn’t know anybody able to read. So can’t send letter. Must have been like disappeared.”

  “My father disappeared,” Mr. Fuzzface said.

  “Left seven kittens behind,” the yellow cat said.

  “I was one of seven kittens who were left behind,” Mr. Fuzzface said.

  “When finally came back, kittens gone, don’t know where. Mate gone, don’t know where.”

  “My mother went I don’t know where,” Mr. Fuzzface said.

  “Mate was called Momface,” the yellow cat said.

  “My mother was called Momface,” Mr. Fuzzface said.

  The yellow cat looked at Mr. Fuzzface with his eye that was not squinty. “What your name?”

  “My name is Mr. Fuzzface,” Mr. Fuzzface said.

  “Fuzzface, I yam yer fadder.”

  “Oldface?” Mr. Fuzzface asked.

  “Oldface,” the yellow cat said.

  The two cats stared at each other across the table, Mr. Fuzzface with both eyes and Oldface with his good eye. No one said anything.

  Nick and Maxine wondered if Mr. Fuzzface was going to bite his father, as he had said he would . . . but he didn’t.

  “I call this a remarkable coincidence,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said.

  “So do I,” said the policeman, whose name was Officer Chestnut.

  “And where do you live now, Mr. Oldface?” Mrs. Noodlekugel asked.

  “Alley, where mices was, where you met,” Oldface said.

  “And is it satisfactory?” Mrs. Noodlekugel asked Oldface.

  “Is alley,” Oldface said. “Is wet when rains, is cold when snows.”

  “I was thinking, would you prefer to live in a little house, where it is dry when it rains and warm when it snows and there is plenty to eat?”

  “You crazy, lady? Who wouldn’t prefer?” Oldface said.

  “Of course, there is the problem of the bus. We have only one cat carrier.”

  “I can arrange a ride in a police car,” Officer Chestnut said.

  “Oooh!” said Nick and Maxine.

  “And of course, we have to ask Mr. Fuzzface,” Mrs. Noodlekugel said. “Mr. Fuzzface, is it all right with you if Oldface comes and stays with us?”

  “Of course it is all right,” Mr. Fuzzface said. “He is my fadder.”

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2013 by Daniel Pinkwater

  Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Adam Stower

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  First electronic edition 2013

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2012947756

  ISBN 978-0-7636-5054-4 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-0-7636-6718-4 (electronic)

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