Attack Of The Bandit Cats Read online

  Dear mouse friends,

  Welcome to the world of

  THE RODENT’S GAZETTE

  EDITORIAL STAFF

  Geronimo Stilton

  A learned and brainy

  mouse; editor of

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Thea Stilton

  Geronimo’s sister and

  special correspondent at

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Trap Stilton

  An awful joker;

  Geronimo’s cousin and

  owner of the store

  Cheap Junk for Less

  Benjamin Stilton

  A sweet and loving

  nine-year-old mouse;

  Geronimo’s favorite

  nephew

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,

  Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected],

  wwww.atlantyca.com.

  eISBN 978-0-545-39182-5

  Copyright © 2000 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154

  Milan, Italy.

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2004 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are

  copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights

  reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.

  www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered

  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark

  of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to

  www.stiltoncheese.com.

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title Il galeone dei gatti pirati

  Cover by Matt Wolf, revised by Larry Keys

  Illustrations by Matt Wolf, revised by Moustache de’Fer, Andy mc Black,

  Topika Topraska

  Graphics by Merenguita Gingermouse, Angela Simone, and Benedetta

  G’lante

  Special thanks to Kathryn Cristaldi

  Interior design by Madalina Stefan Blanton

  First printing, June 2004

  What a rat’s nest this morning in front of

  my office! When I came up from the subway,

  I saw mice of all shapes and sizes

  packing the street. All their snouts were

  in the air. They were staring at the

  windows of my office! The crowd

  began to chant:

  “STIL-TON! STIL-TON!

  WE WANT STIL-TON!

  GERO-NIMO STIL-TON!”

  Uh-oh. I had a feeling

  these mice weren’t looking

  for my autograph.

  Luckily, no one

  recognized me.

  We Want Stil-ton!

  r

  o

  d

  e

  n

  t

  ’

  s

  g

  a

  z

  e

  t

  t

  e

  t

  h

  e

  18S

  19R

  Because, you see, I am Geronimo Stilton!

  Quiet as a mouse, I wriggled through the

  crowd and sneaked up the back stairs. I

  dashed into my office, huffing and puffing

  for air. I really needed to get back

  to my gym, Rats La Lanne. My

  secretary, Mousella, ran to meet

  me. “Mr. Stilton!

  Horrible news!” she

  squEAKed, waving the

  phone book we had just

  printed. “New Mouse City’s

  YELLOW PAGES are a

  disaster! There isn’t

  one correct phone

  number! Not one!”

  Pale as a slice of mozzarella

  cheese, I leafed through the

  book. “Addresses . . . telephone numbers . . .

  2

  YELLOW

  PAGES

  they’re all wrong? I am ruuuuuined!” I

  SHRIEKED, pulling at my whiskers.

  I heard the crowd yelling and leaned out

  my window. They had lit a huge bonfire

  right in the middle of the street. They

  were

  burning

  my directories!!!

  A fierce-looking mouse pointed at

  me with his paw. “That’s him!

  That’s Geronimo Stilton! The one

  who published the Yellow

  Pages! He’s the one who’s

  turned New Mouse City on its

  tail!”

  The crowd began chanting

  again. “STIL-TON! STIL-TON!

  WE WANT STIL-TON!”

  Suddenly, all the telephones in my office

  started ringing. I answered the phone on

  my desk.

  3

  “I need to speak with that

  cheddarface, Mr. Stilton!”

  an angry voice snarled on

  the other end.

  “Um, Mr. Stilton isn’t

  here,” I squeaked in a high-

  pitched voice. Hopefully, the

  caller wouldn’t know it was

  me. “I don’t know where he is,”

  I continued. “He might be in the hospital

  with an ingrown toenail. Or maybe he’s

  helping out down at the Creaky Mouse

  Nursing Home. He does a lot of charity

  work, you know.”

  I decided to unplug the

  telephones, but the fax

  machines were all spitting

  out nasty letters.

  Threatening e-mails popped up on my

  4

  computer screen: “We know where you live!

  You can’t hide! No hole is safe!”

  Mousella wrung her paws. Tears rolled

  down her snout. “Mr. Stilton, this is a

  total disaster! Even our own telephone

  number is wrong!” she squeaked. “We are

  now the Furry Tails Toilet Paper

  Company!”

  “Don’t worry, Mousella. I have everything

  under control,” I cried, closing my eyes.

  Maybe I was just having a bad dream. I

  waited a few seconds, then opened my eyes.

  The rodents outside were throwing moldy

  cheese balls at my window.

  No, this wasn’t a bad dream. It was a

  living nightmare!

  5

  13S

  14R

  Just then, Blunders, my editor in chief,

  knocked

  at the door.

  “Mr. Stilton, your cousin Trap is

  here,” he announced, tripping over his tail.

  “I am not in for anyone!” I shouted.

  Blunders jumped, spilling his mug
of

  cheddar tea. “Um, well, he says it’s urgent!”

  “I — am —

  not — in!”

  I repeated.

  Next thing I

  knew, my cousin,

  a plumpish

  mouse with

  BEADY EYES,

  What a Furbrain!

  knock

  knock

  was standing before me. He put both paws

  on my desk and smiled.

  Have you ever met my cousin? He owns

  a shop in downtown New Mouse City—

  Cheap Junk for Less. He’s a terrible

  prankster

  . And his favorite hobby is

  teasing me! Another thing you should

  know about Trap, he’s like a refrigerator

  magnet for trouble. Sometimes you can’t

  tear those two apart!

  “What do you want?

  Can’t you see I am busy?”

  I yelled. “And please, take

  your paws off my desk!”

  “

  Hello, there,

  Cousinkins! What’s up?”

  he squeaked, picking his

  teeth with my letter

  opener.

  7

  I took off my glasses so that I could cry

  freely. “Can’t you see I am in big trouble here?”

  I choked. “Oh, why did I choose this job? I

  could have been a lifeguard down at WaterRat

  Park or a waiter at The Cheese Garden. . . .”

  Trap smirked. “Are you kidding? A

  furbrain like you couldn’t do those jobs!”

  “I am not a furbrain!” I squEAKed,

  fuming.

  Just then, the phone

  rang. In a flash, Trap

  had his paw on the

  receiver.

  “If it’s for me, please tell them I am not

  in,” I begged.

  He

  picked up

  the phone and straightened

  his tie. “Hello, this is The Stilton Publishing

  Company. No,

  Mr. Stilton is not in.

  Yes, yes, I agree that he is a hopeless

  cheddarface, a total nincompoop!” my

  cousin nodded. “Well, of course I will tell

  him. He is a complete furbrain! Thank

  you for calling!” he added before hanging up.

  I twisted my whiskers in rage. Steam

  poured out from my ears. I

  felt like a cheddar cheese

  marshmallow left in a

  microwave too long.

  “I asked you to say I was not in,” I

  shrieked. “I didn’t say make friends with

  any wacky mouse who calls!”

  “That wasn’t any wacky mouse!” my

  9

  cousin insisted. “I was talking to

  Saucy

  LePaws,

  the famous chef. He says

  you switched the number of his restaurant

  with the one for the city dump! I’d better

  not tell you where he said he wanted to

  send you.”

  All of a sudden, my cousin’s eyes lit

  up. “Hey, that reminds me. Do you know

  why I’m here?”

  I put my head in my paws. “Yes, I do,” I

  mumbled. “You are here to drive me nuts!

  And it’s working. I’m packing my bags for

  the Mad Mouse Center. I’ll leave tonight.”

  “Not so fast,” Trap said, giggling. “I am

  here to get you out of this mess! Just listen

  to my brilliant idea. . . .”

  I groaned. Not another one of my cousin’s

  brilliant ideas! The last time I’d gotten

  involved in one of his crazy schemes, I’d

  10

  11

  Saucy

  Le

  Paws

  ended up stuck in a spooky castle in

  Transratania!

  13S

  14R

  Trap’s latest brilliant idea came from a

  TELEVISION

  show.

  “I saw this great show last night. It was

  one of those real-life mysteries,” he began.

  “It took place in the southern seas,

  near the Claw Islands. Someone had

  The MosT WanTed

  Mouse

  spotted an island all covered in silver! And

  unlike most islands, this one seems to be

  moving! We should go looking for it!”

  “Not on your life!” I shrieked. “You know

  I HATE traveling.”

  Trap gave me a SLY smile. “Just think

  about it. A little disappearing act might be

  good for you,” he advised. “Did you know

  the Viking Rats football team is lined up

  outside? They haven’t looked this angry

  WE WANT

  STILTON

  since they lost the Super Mouse Bowl. Plus,

  the mayor has put you on the Most Wanted

  list. I passed ten policemice on my way here.

  One was sharpening his teeth with a cheese

  shredder!

  “Besides, think about the mysterious

  island,” he murmured. “My whiskers are

  standing on end just thinking about all

  that silver! Thea and Benjamin have already

  agreed to come.”

  Just then, the door

  flew

  O

  pen. It was

  my sister, Thea.

  “Do you know

  that the YELLOW

  PAGES are all

  wrong?” she

  squeaked. “I just

  called the

  GRAND CHEDDAR HOTEL to book

  a weekend with my new sweetie

  pie. I got Ratcatraz Prison instead.

  They offered me two rooms with a

  view of the barbed wire fence!”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. My

  sister goes through sweetie pies

  the way a starving rat goes through a

  plate of nachos!

  “It’s not funny, furbrain!” my sister

  scolded me.

  Suddenly, a messenger mouse rushed in

  with the

  six

  cups of warm milk and the

  soothing yoga tape I had just ordered.

  “Um, Mr. Stilton ,” he interrupted.

  “Did you know you’ve switched the number

  for PIZZA MOUSE with the one for BENT

  WHISKERS MEMORIAL ? Last night, I ordered

  a pizza and got an ambulance instead. The

  15

  hospital wants to sue you for

  damages!”

  Just then, my young nephew

  Benjamin raced through the door.

  “Uncle, Uncle, I have to tell you something

  very important!” he cried. “I checked your

  phone book, and it’s full of mistakes! My

  school is getting lots of calls asking for a

  tattoo parlor. Uncle, do you think I should

  get a tattoo? By the way, the principal said

  he wants to speak with you.”

  I closed my eyes and

  counted the holes in

  a slice of Swiss. Then

  I stood up. “All

  right! You win!” I

  told Trap. “Let’s go!

  Now!”

  We leave at daWn

  Next morning at dawn, I met everyone on

  the beach. Trap was bent over a pump

  trying to blow up a huge balloon. It was

  purple with yellow dots.

  “What on earth is this? Where did you

  find it?” I shrieked.

  “It’s a hot-air balloon. I got it real
cheap

  at the flea market,” my

  cousin replied cheerfully.

  I rolled my eyes. “I

  don’t see why we have

  to travel in a hot-air

  balloon. And why

  did you pick such

  a horrible color? It

  looks like a giant prune

  with freckles!” To be

  honest, I was a little

  worried. It didn’t seem

  like the safest way to

  travel. But Thea was

  already busy fixing a

  hole in the basket.

  Benjamin posed in front

  of the balloon. “Uncle, would you take my

  picture?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

  Half an hour later, we took off in the

  balloon

  .

  I sat at the bottom of the

  basket and began writing in my diary.

  6:25 a.m., we have just left the beach at

  18

  18S

  19R

  New Mouse City. We are headed west for

  the Claw Islands.

  Day after day, I wrote down

  everything that happened in my

  journal. I figured writing would

  take my mind off traveling. Did I

  mention how much I hate to travel?

  Finally, at noon on the eleventh day, we

  caught sight of the Claw Islands. Trap

  jumped up and down as if he had just won

  the Mouse Lotto.

  “The silver island should be somewhere

  around here! Keep your eyes peeled!” he

  shouted. “You, too, Gerry Berry. Although

  with your eyes you’d probably have trouble

  seeing Santa Mouse on his sleigh!”

  “I have excellent eyesight with my glasses

  on!” I CRIED, glaring at my cousin.

  Minutes later, I was the first to spot the

  19

  MY

  DIARY

  I was the first to spot the island.

  hate

  island. So much for my bad eyes! I cleaned

  my glasses to get a clearer view. A dot of

  silver swayed back and forth with the

  waves. It was the island, all right!

  “Look over there!” I shouted with

  excitement.

  But then something totally strange

  happened. Zing! A cannonball flew

  by just above my ears!

  Zinnnng! Zinnng!

  Two more cannonballs brushed