statement, since there is a distinct possibility of polluting this pristine pond with blood and other bodily wastes. It will save you a lot of trouble later.â Eyes narrowing, he squinted at the ocelotâs companions-in-arms.
âEach of you, of course, should really fill out your own set of forms. Itâs only proper jurisprudential procedure.â He turned back to their leader. âYou should also submit, in triplicate, Request Form 287-B and C, granting you exclusive rights to mug, assault, rob, and otherwise impose upon these two travelers. Prior to swinging that weapon, of course.â
By this time the ocelotâs eyes had completely glazed over. Swaying slightly, unable either to raise the deadly sword or flee, he stood motionless while the owl rambled on, until the benumbed carnivore had vanished completely beneath a suffocating and steadily mounting pile of white paper, with a few yellow and pink forms tossed in for color.
â⦠Batch Form four hundred and twelve,â the owl droned on, âwhich simply must be turned in within twenty-four hours of rendering a victim into more than eleven pieces, but not less than three. Unless attached addenda ten and twelve have been filed beforehand, in which case â¦â
From within the burgeoning mountain of forms a faint, desperate voice could be heard crying for help. Or perhaps begging for mercy: The words were so thickly muffled that Jon-Tom couldnât be sure.
Led by the old mandrill, the rest of the bandits rushed forward to attack the pile. But the paper piled up faster than they could hack it away, a veritable torrent of forms, requisition sheets, and contracts, until the entire band found themselves overwhelmed and enveloped.
The avalanche spread out in high, curling waves, swamping the fire and sending the travelersâ supper crashing to the ground. For an instant it blazed higher, until the flames were snuffed out by a squall of blank permits. Ever curious, Mudge darted forward and snatched one from the pile.
âIt says weâre suspected oâ attemptinâ to establish a restaurant without applyinâ for a license.â He threw Jon-Tom a warning look. âMaybe âtis time to call a bit oâ a halt to the music-mongerinâ, mate.â
âIâve already stopped.â Jon-Tom found himself retreating toward the pool as the first hundred blank forms crept toward his feet. They could no longer see the owl, but they could sure hear him. His ominous bureaucratic drone continued to echo from the canyon walls.
Racing forward, Mudge snatched up the rest of their gear and threw it at Jon-Tom, who caught it reflexively. Then the otter was tugging on his friendâs arm.
âCome on, mate!â
âW-what?â Jon-Tom mumbled. His eyes were beginning to glaze over as well.
So Mudge bit him.
â Ow! â Jon-Tom responded with dazed anger, which the otter ignored. âWhatâd you do that for?â
âIt was gettinâ to you to. Bleedinâ insidious, it is.â He was half leading, half dragging his friend along the beach toward the far end of the pool. Bemused but glad to be on their way again, the orphaned cloud of music preceded them. âFortunately, I ainât smart enough to be susceptible.â
With the nimble otter leading the way and selecting the easiest path, they scrambled out of the ravine. Jon-Tom boosted his short-legged friend over the long drops, while Mudge ascended narrow chimneys inaccessible to Jon-Tom, tossing down their rope to help the human up to the next ledge. With fear and apprehension motivating them, they soon found themselves standing on level ground above the canyon.
Looking back, they could see that it continued to fill up with a heaving sea of foamlike forms and informative pamphlets. The paper was already lapping at the rim of the ravine and clutching at the roots of terrified trees. From somewhere far below, the submerged
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes