Attack Of The Bandit Cats Read online

Benjamin, annoyed.

  “A plaaaan?” we cried.

  “Why didn’t you say so?” said

  Trap.

  Benjamin sighed. “Well, I got this plan

  from a book I read. It’s called

  SCRAM MY

  Life on the Run by Fearless Frank the

  Adventure Mouse,” he explained. “Fearless

  Frank was stuck in a prison cell just like this

  one. He tied a rope to one of the bars and

  hung outside the window. When the jailer

  found the cell empty, he ran off to get help.

  Fearless Frank climbed back into the cell

  and escaped through the open door.”

  Trap scratched his head. “But how are we

  going to fit through the bars?” he asked.

  “We’ll need to cut through them somehow.”

  47

  “

  We will sing!

  ”

  Benjamin began to dig through his

  pockets. He pulled out three sticks of

  cheddar-flavored bubble gum, a glow-in-

  the-dark yo-yo, and . . . a Swiss army knife!

  He opened it, and a small file popped out.

  “Do you remember this, Uncle Geronimo?

  You gave it to me for my birthday. I take it

  with me wherever I go,” squeaked my

  nephew.

  “This is great!” shouted Trap.

  “We’ll take turns filing the bars,” said

  Thea. “One of us will have to keep watch.

  But. . .what about the noise?” She twirled

  her whiskers, deep in thought.

  Two minutes later, my sister

  jumped up, clapping her paws.

  “I’ve got it!’ she cried.

  rah! rah! ratS!

  We decided that Benjamin should keep

  watch while Trap worked away at the bars.

  To drown out the noise, Thea and I began

  singing at the top of our lungs. I must

  admit I never knew my sister had

  such a voice. She was truly

  awful! She sounded as if

  her tail were stuck in

  Slobbertooth’s high-

  speed blender!

  First we sang the

  ever-popular “Mouse

  Island March.” As

  any rodent knows, it

  goes like this:

  O

  u

  r

  hearts

  a

  r

  e

  s

  t

  r

  o

  n

  g

  .

  “

  W

  e

  a

  r

  e

  m

  i

  c

  e

  ,

  h

  e

  a

  r

  u

  s

  s

  q

  u

  e

  a

  k

  .

  W

  e

  a

  r

  e

  never

  w

  e

  a

  k

  .

  .

  .

  ”

  W

  e

  a

  r

  e

  b

  r

  a

  v

  e

  a

  n

  d

  t

  r

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  .

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  a

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  !

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  !

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  a

  t

  s

  a

  r

  e

  c

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  n

  g

  t

  h

  r

  o

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  g

  h

  !

  ”

  “

  W

  e

  a

  r

  e

  rats

  w

  i

  t

  h

  b

  a

  t

  s

  .

  S

  o

  s

  t

  a

  n

  d

  b

  a

  c

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  ,

  a

  l

  l

  y

  o

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  a

  t

  s

  ,

  Then we sang another oldie but goodie. It

  was New Mouse City’s fight song, “Rats

  with Bats”:

  After a few more battle songs, we moved

  on to some more recent tunes. Thea wiggled

  her tail to “Nibbling in the Rain.” Benjamin

  joined in on “Squeak Goes the Hamster”

  and “If You’re Happy and You Know It,

  Clap Your Paws.”

  50

  All of a sudden, Benjamin started squeaking.

  claws

  , our jailer cat, was on his way.

  “Well, well, what’s going on here?” Claws

  meowed, squinting at us.

  “We are singing to cheer

  ourselves up,” I explained,

  looking very sad. “We have

  given up all hope. You cats

  are much too smart for us!”

  Claws grinned. “Good, I

  like to see a mouse who

  knows when he’s beat. I

  mean, everyone knows

  cats have

  bigger

  brains than mice,” he laughed. “That should

  make us twice as smart, right? Hey, want to

  hear me count to ten?” Before we knew it,

  Claws was off and counting. He only got

  stuck twice, on five and nine.

  51

  When he was done, we all applauded. I

  tried not to clap too hard -- I was afraid

  he’d start on the alphabet. Luckily, Claws

  just bowed. “OK, Micey,” he giggled, “go

  ahead and sing your songs. But no sad

  songs, please. I don’t want the other cats to

  see me crying.”

  What a softie! He was beginning

  to grow on me a little. If only

  he wasn’t a cat . . .

  “Whatever you say,

  Boss,” squeaked

  TRAP, with a

  smirk.

  We were almost

  ready for our

  escape.

  SILVER

  The night before our escape, I could not

  sleep. I missed my comfy bed at home. I

  missed my bright cheddar-colored sheets. I

  missed my great-aunt Ratsy’s cozy

  comforter. “Just another reason to HATE

  traveling,” I sighed to myself, tossing and

  turning. Moonlight filled the room. I stared

  at the wall. It was then that I saw the

  drawing inscribed there.

  “Slimy Swiss Balls!!”

  I yelled, waking up Thea.

  “It’s a plan of this ship,” I

  whispered. I quickly

  made a copy of the

  drawing in my diary.

  The hearT of a

  Courageous Mouse

  54

  I saw the silver drawing. />
  “This will help us escape,” I explained.

  “Now we’ll know exactly how to get around

  this monster-sized ship. See, this is one of

  Slobbertooth’s kitchens, here is Whiskers’s

  Lounge and Pool Room, and there are the

  Cozytime Catnap Quarters. I wonder who

  drew this plan on the wall.”

  “Maybe a prisoner,” whispered my sister,

  stroking the drawing. “Look, there is a date

  and a message here. It says

  1663.”

  I peered closer. The message was written

  in Squeakeeze, the ancient language spoken

  long ago on Mouse Island. I read it aloud:

  “The heart of a courageous mouse

  shall always be free. Rodents, be

  smart, follow your heart!”

  55

  Trap had been yakking it up with

  claws

  , the cat guarding us. That is how

  he found out why the pirate cats did not eat

  fish. It seemed that the Black Bandit

  was allergic! In fact, the very sight

  of fish was enough to give him a

  terrible itch. So they ate only

  snails!

  “Yes, it’s an awful

  shame,” Claws sighed.

  “All those yummy fishies swimming right

  below us in the ocean. Even theyknow the

  Black Bandit will not let us touch

  them. They call us ’fraidy cats. The other

  day two kid tunas even tried sunbathing on

  56

  snail Pudding

  HE

  our deck. They looked so tasty. Of course,

  made us throw them back. ‘If I cannot

  eat fish, then NO ONE else can!’ the

  Bandit told us.” Claws groaned. “So it’s

  snails, snails, and more snails!”

  The morning we were to be cooked finally

  came. Claws arrived, his keys.

  JINGLING

  “Hey, there, my little rodents!” he called.

  “The chef will soon be here to take charge

  of you. While you wait, how about a

  little snack? Just think of it as your

  final fattening. Eat, drink, and be tasty!”

  He collapsed in a fit of giggles.

  “OK, get ready,” my cousin whispered

  to us. Then he strolled over to Claws.

  “You know, Claws, I would just love a

  slice of snail tart,” he began. “And could

  you put some snail pudding on the side?

  You do have snail pudding, don’t you?”

  57

  claws grinned. “Of course we do, dear

  friend!” he meowed. “And I’ll bring you a

  delicious side of snail slimethat will

  make your fur curl!” He skipped off to the

  kitchen, twirling his tail behind him.

  As soon as he left, Thea grabbed the

  blankets and tied them together to make a

  rope. I ran to the window and pulled out the

  bar we had filed. Then I lowered myself out

  the window. The others followed.

  We lined up alongside the silver

  tower, holding on for dear life. I couldn’t

  stop myself from peeking at the ground. The

  sdrop made my head spin. The cannons

  below looked like toy weapons, and the cats

  looked like furry little ants.

  60

  We lined up alongside the tower, holding on for dear life.

  We waited for just a few minutes, but it

  felt like forever. I checked to see if my fur

  had turned gray. Suddenly, a nasty smell

  drifted out the window. It was the hot snail

  pudding. After another minute, we heard a

  furious meowing.

  “Well, lock me up in a room filled with

  bloodhounds and throw away the key!”

  shrieked Claws. “Those squeaky, rotten

  mice tricked me!”

  “Rats!” yelled Twitch, the night watchcat,

  running toward the window.

  “Someone will lose his tail

  because of this!” hissed

  Pounce, the head

  jailer.

  61

  Just then, an earsplitting meowing made

  our fur stand on end. It was the cats’

  alarm siren!

  All the pirates ran out on deck. The

  hallway was empty.

  Quiet as mice, we climbed up the rope

  and dropped back into our cell. The door

  was open. Not a cat in sight! We hid in the

  suits of armor that lined the hall. Seconds

  later, we heard a jingling sound. It was the

  clink of the BANDIT’S boot buckles!

  The sound stopped right in front of us.

  “Sniff, snuff,” muttered the Black

  62

  Meow! Meow!

  Bandit, his nose in the air. “You can’t

  hide from me, my meaty little mice!” he

  meowed. I heard the clinking coming closer

  and closer. Then a frantic cry rang out.

  “Your Excellency! We cannot find any

  pawprints!” a puzzled voice informed the

  Bandit.

  “Get a grip, you nitwit! Do you

  think these mice have wings?” bawled the

  Bandit. “I don’t care if you have to search

  every inch of this ship

  with your bare paws!

  Find those mice now!”

  Then he headed down

  the hall.

  Once the Black Bandit had left, I

  ran back to our cell and leaned out the

  window. Down on the deck, the cats were

  racing around in circles, looking for us. Fur

  was flying everywhere!

  “I think we need a new plan,” I said.

  “Anyone have any ideas?”

  “I have one!” Trap shrieked. “Let’s

  go home!”

  “But how are we going to get

  there?” Thea squeaked. “We can’t

  swim. My pawstroke is awful!”

  silver under

  The sun

  I leaned out the window.

  I took out a pen and began to write:

  1. We had to cross the ocean to reach

  New Mouse City.

  2. We could not swim home.

  3. We had to force the cats to jump ship!

  I stared out over the pirate’s ship,

  thinking. The silver deck gleamed

  brightly in the hot afternoon sun. A mouse

  could go blind looking at all that silver!

  Just then, Trap rested his paw on the

  mast. “

  Yowee!

  This ship is as hot as

  a bed at the Fry Mouse Tanning Salon!”

  I stared at him, eyes wide open. “That’s

  it!” I squeaked.

  “I know

  exactly how

  we’re going to

  get rid of the

  cats!”

  “This ship is made of metal. The

  silver is so hot it’s burning up,”

  I explained. “All we need to do is turn

  up the heat. At high noon tomorrow,

  we’ll start a

  fire

  . The whole ship

  will get as hot as a frying pan. The

  cats will jump overboard, and the

  ship will be ours!”

  Trap grinned. “I like it,” he

  smirked. “We’ll fry them up like

  catburgers at the Dog Heaven

  Grill!”

  “But the Black Bandit

  will just get into a lifeboat,”
/>
  Thea observed.

  like a frying Pan

  67

  Like A Frying Pan

  D

  R

  O

  W

  N!

  ”

  I laughed. “That’s the best part,” I

  explained. “Their lifeboats are made of

  silver, too!”

  Benjamin tugged at my jacket. “But,

  Uncle, what will happen to the cats? We

  can’t let them

  he insisted.

  He is such a tenderhearted mouslet.

  Trap stared at my little nephew as if

  Benjamin had just stolen his last Cheesy Chew.

  “Little Mousey, who cares? They are cats!”

  “I have an idea,” Thea said. “Maybe there

  is an island nearby. When the cats jump

  ship, they can swim to the island. Let’s go

  check out Tomcat Jack’s maps.”

  I quickly leafed through

  my diary, searching for the

  plan of the ship. “There it

  is! Tomcat Jack’s control

  room! Let’s go!”

  We

  raced

  down the ship’s

  silver hallways to the control room. In

  the center of the room stood a long silver

  69

  ho-huM island

  table covered with strange seafaring gadgets,

  maps, and tools. I peered at a map of the

  ocean. “It looks like the nearest island is

  something called Ho-hum Island.”

  “There’s nothing around that island. It’s

  all by itself,” Thea noted.

  “Great!” cried Trap. “Those no-good cats

  will never be able to leave!”

  “There’s just one little problem,” Thea

  said. “The Silver Claw is headed away

  from the island. If the pirates jump

  overboard

  tomorrow, they’ll never be

  able to swim there. We have to figure out a

  way to change the ship’s course.”

  Suddenly, my sister pointed to a big

  compass in the middle of the room.

  “Do you know how a compass works?”