Mitch's "Tails"

Forenote: Thank you The Star Swordsman and

lizardgirl for spurring me to write this story on [i]Pixar

Planet[/i]. My brain was just too small to figure that out in the first place.

The back story: Due to the rising success of Pixar’s latest film,

Cars, and their ever increasing popularity in and of the company itself, it’s no

surprise that fans eagerly await the release of Ratatouille.

My whole family

and I love rats – my mom owned several when she was younger, as did I when I was in my early teens (I’m

seventeen now). I owned nine rats in total; eight at one time. In descending order, they were: Martha, Rachel,

Hannah, Abbey, Brownie, Blackie, Suki, Miki, and Ben. They all brought us joy and love as we never could have

imagined. As a tribute to my love for these wonderful critters, and because I simply

cannot wait for Pixar’s next film, I decided to write my own version of

Ratatouille…

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is the first chapter of my

script, simply entitled Ratatouille. I would just like to let you all know that I am

not affiliated with Pixar in any way (as you all know), so my version of the story

is simply guess-work. I have no idea as to how the real version of the film will turn out, but I surmise that it

will be delightfully good.

So far, I have three chapters up. I’m still working on it as we speak, as

a matter of fact. Your reviews count! I really have no idea how the public – which

is you – will react to this. I’m actually rather proud concerning how the story is turning out, although I

could be wrong to the core! So…you guys really have to make the big decision on if it’s good or not. I’ll

post chapter one and, if you like it, I’ll continue to post more chapters. (I have two versions of this story:

One is more silly and is from Remy’s point of view. The other is a third-person version. The story I will post

for you guys will be the latter.)

Happy reading!

As promised, here is chapter one. Mind you, this chapter was (and still is)

very rough. It went through about three or four

revisions before I was finally happy with what I wrote. I still think it could use some improvement, so don’t be

surprised if parts of this (and succeeding) chapters change!

And don’t worry; the chapters get

better! Chapter two is, I think, the best so far. I think…

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[b:57f6f656f

6]~RATATOUILLE~[/b]

[i]CHAPTER UN: FRESH FROM THE OVEN

AND SERVED IN THE SEWER[/i]

Snow fell quietly upon a white-flecked bridge. Shopping bags

rustled against legs that were in a hurry to reach home. The sound of skates was heard skidding across a pond

long since frozen from the cold. A sweet smell, that of freshly-baked shortbread muffins, drifted through a

sleepy plaza from a nearby cafe’ – cafe’ Mimi’s. And a pair of whiskers could be seen – though just barely

– sticking out of a hole in a wall in this cafe’. But these whiskers were not searching for cats or danger.

They were on the trail of a delicious, hot from the oven, cheese-filled tomato and brocolli pot-pie. These

whiskers belonged to a rat, and this rat’s name was Remy…

Now, Remy was a very unusual rat. Unlike

other rats, who spent their time gathering discarded (and often digusting) bits of garbage and material – which

Remy described as “undigestible crumpets” – , he preferred to lie in his kleenex box nest while

dreaming up new recipes to create. You wouldn’t fine Remy lounging in the sewers or chewing up a rotten apple –

quite the contrary! He found the idea of wallowing in garbage absolutely repulsive! Now, a hearty meal of

potatoes and salad? – that he could live with. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy living in Paris, especially when

you are a rat.

Of course, Remy’s odd taste for pleasure often left room for puzzling questions and

inevitable answers. More often than not, Remy was badgered and pushed around by his bossy parents and many

nagging brothers and sisters; they just didn’t understand how important his love for food was…and what it

meant to him. Did they care if his lifelong dream would probably never be fulfilled? Of course not. And was it

his fault that he had dragged his whole family all the way from the corn fields to the kitchens of France, just

so he could experience a taste of what the real world of food was like? Certainly not – it was out of the

question. “A rat to a kitchen is death, and a kitchen to a rat is death. Live with it!” his parents

would say. And yet…there was always that possibility: that one possibility that his passion would manifest

itself one day…

Poor Remy. The little tike couldn’t help himself, no matter what his parents said.

He’d see a left-over mushroom on the cafe floor and would risk his life to eat it; or sometimes it would be a

half-eaten pancake that got his attention; and at other times the target was a yummy, crisp apple pie directly

from the oven. Whatever the cause, Remy always made sure that there was an effect…

Naturally, Remy’s

life-threatening attempts to snatch this “fancy food” caused his parents to worry for him even more.

Take one of the many “pep talks” from dad that Remy received on a daily basis:

"Son,

you’re gonna have to rethink your life," his dad would say.
“I know, dad,” Remy would reply,

in the same, drifting tone he always put on when listening to one of his dad’s monotonous speeches.

“The world is a dangerous place out there.”
“I know, dad.”
"Ya’ gotta watch

yer’ tail more often and spend less time in the kitchens."
“Got it, dad.” By now, Remy would

be shuffling his feet and staring at ants crawling along the dirty sewer floor.
"I hope so! Because the

last time you promised not to go out there --"
“–dad, I promise! I swear…”

And, of

course, the very next day, Remy would go out and break his promise at full speed. But, of course, who could blame

him?

You see, Remy and his rather annoying family currently lived in Paris, in a busy sewer that happened

to be right below the kitchen of a famous chef named Auguste Gusteau, who, coincidentally, happened to be one of

Remy’s biggest idols. Rather than look for a more suitable, less people-crowded environment, Remy wittingly

convinced his family to stay in their new home, a feat which Remy thought himself rather proud of accomplishing,

considering his parents’ stubborn behavior.

So now, our fuzzy friend resides there, under the bustling

streets of Paris, France. And, despite the many times that Remy had gone food hunting in the kitchens, there

would be one day of this scrounging that he would never forget. That one day – that fateful Christmas

day…

Hey, not bad. This is

rather intresting. I can’t wait to read more.

[b]I love the story so far Mitch. I can?t wait

for chapter two![/b]

[b]The Star

Swordsman[/b]: Heheh – thanks!

JV: Seriously? Well…thank

you! is overjoyed

Wow – I didn’t expect this kind of optimism. Thank you so much for the replies,

guys! Any more reviews are warmly welcome.

Nice- I’m really loving the atmosphere and useful background information.

lizardgirl: Why, thank you! Seriously, I’m overjoyed right now.

Presenting: Chapter Two. This is, I think, my favorite chapter to date. I really like how it turned out,

simply because it is the longest chapter, and I love to write long, engaging stories. There is only one part I

really hate, and that is the talk between Remy and his dad. I only left it in because my sister cracked up when

she read it, and begged me to leave it in. Just be warned that I am not very pleased with that particular section

of the chapter; I’m thinking of deleting it, actually…

As a side-note, I would like to mention that I

do not mind scrutinizations, accusations, or

suggestions. If there is something in my story that you think could use an improvement, then please don’t

hesitant to tell me. My objective is to make this novel as smooth as silk and as enjoyable to read as possible.

So bomb away!

---

[i:a9733fb41

9]CHAPTER DEUX: 15 EUROS FOR A PAIR OF WHISKERS[/i]

At first glance, it seemed just like any

other day. The chefs were cooking, the waiters were serving, and the customers’ bellies were plenty full. Remy

had just added the finishing touches to his cheese souffle’, which he was going to serve to his family as a

surprise Christmas dinner. All the ingredients were in and ready for cooking. All except for one. The main

ingredient: Cheese.

It’s not that Remy was stupid or fool-hardy or any of those other things; it was

just that cheese was very hard to get. The chefs were very serious about their cheeses; they’d guard them with a

fork and knife and keep them locked in the refridgerators at night. But he had to get some sort of cheese

tonight; his family depended on it!

Poised in the kitchen, tapping his greasy fingers on his match-box

counter, Remy considered the situation. His mom, kind-hearted and a little fussy, wouldn’t worry about his going

out; he was always leaving the house, and coming back alive, so she didn’t fret whenever he left the sewers. His

father, on the other hand, would panic at the least little thing, which made it very hard for Remy to escape

whenever he was around. His brothers and sisters, on the other hand, didn’t give a care about where he went…as

long as he brought back food. Remy tapped his fingers on the counter faster and more anxiously.

“Mom? Dad?” Remy half-heartedly called. “I’m going out…”

In came his mom,

with an only partly-finished pink tail-glove that she had been knitting. She seemed in a good enough mood…

“What was that, dear?” his mother asked sweetly.
"I’m…uhh…going out for a little

while, if it’s ok with you."
"Oh, of course, dear. Go right ahead. But…you know…you really

should take this with you," and she shoved the glove into Remy’s greasy hands. "It’s only

half-knitted, but it will keep you warm."

Remy thanked her kindly, while quietly thinking to himself

that he wouldn’t wear that repulsive thing even if he was paid. He slipped the glove over his tail anyway, just

to please his mom. She smiled at him, then walked off into another room while singing "I’ll Be Home For

Christmas", probably to knit more gloves, Remy thought.

Figuring that his mom would tell his dad

where he went, he skipped breaking the news to his father and hopped out the door. Down the drains, across the

main waterways, and into the many sewer passageways he went, taking his usual route leading to the floorboards

under the kithens. He finally reached his destination: Mimi’s Cafe’. Poking his noise out of a rat hole he had

sneakily chewed into the tasteless wall, Remy scanned the area for any sign of human activity. Judging by the

rustling of many feet and the distant mumbling sounds of chattering customers, tonight was turning out to be a

very busy one. He should have known; it was Christmas Eve.

By pricking up his ears like a radar dish,

Remy was able to catch every single sound in the cafe. Even the simple “clink” of a dish or the jingle

of a doorbell couldn’t escape his superb hearing. This he used very wisely, while, as silently and as stealthily

as posibble, he crept up to an unsuspecting waiter pushing a trolley full of delicious-smelling

food.

Under a fancy, low-hanging cloth draped over the trolley and into the cart he jumped, unkown to

anyone but himself. Slowly, but surely, the waiter pushed the trolley out into the diner, while Remy, with his

back against one of the trolley’s legs and his arms set comfortably around his head like a cushion, enjoyed a

free ride…while indulging in the overwhelming smells of the mouth-watering delicacies whafting around the

entire cafe: creamy porrige with blueberry syrup; sweet cranberry tarts; lemon merangue pie with a sprinkle of

wine on top…

“Ahh…how clever and cunning I am!”, Remy thought to himself. How the chefs

and customers would scream if they ever knew that a rat was right under their noses, nit-picking their precious

morsels! Remy chuckled at the very thought.

‘Thump, thump, thump’ went the waiter’s feet as he rolled

the cart full of food out of the kitchen, into the main diner, and around tables busy with customers waiting for

their meals.

“Ah, here’s my stop!” Remy muttered softly to himself, as the cart came to a halt

beside a window table. He jumped off the cart, stuck his head underneath the table, and came face-to-face with

three pairs of legs hanging from their chairs. Remy watched as the little legs were swung back and forth by their

owners, rocking their chairs more vigorously with each swing.

“Kids,” thought Remy. "And

three of them, too!" Remy wasn’t very fond of rambunctious, scwermy little kids very much, since he had to

put up with twelve brothers and sisters of his own at home. All the same, kids, especially the really impatient

ones, almost always equalled a good supply of food…since they were prone to dropping crumbs all over the

carpet, much to the dismay of the chefs.

That night, though, Remy didn’t feel much like nabbing his meal

in the company of “little screamers”, as he called them. So, he picked up his tail and scrambled under

fancy table after fancy table, each time using his sniffer to target something cheese-filled and tasty. But to

Remy’s dismay, nowhere could he find a table with any cheese on it. It was all just soups and salads on the menu

that evening.

“Oh, blast it all!” thought Remy angrily. “Where’s the–” He sniffed.

“–the–” He sniffed again. “–the food…?”

Ahhh…what a smell!

Cheddar…harvarti…gouda…swiss – all just three feet away from him on a nearby trolley! Remy grinned

maliciously. “It’s all mine…” he sniggered.

Ever so carefully, Remy poked his head out from

under the table he was hiding in. “Fwoop” - he looked left. “Fwoop” - he looked right. No one

in sight. Pat pat pat. He took three steps forward. Nobody around.

Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat-pat…“swish”! Remy scurried under the trolley and pulled in his tail just in

time…as a shoe stepped down right where he had been moments before. Phew! Remy was in shock. He would have to

be more careful when foraging around humans…

Praying that the human didn’t see anything suspicious,

Remy pricked up his ears again as best he could – the space between the floor and the trolley was very low – so

as to catch any sound of voices (or shoes) in the immediate area. To his annoyance, someone, presumably a chef,

was speaking to two guests at a second table up above – he knew there were two because he could see their legs

sticking out from beneath the table.
“Pfff… Looks like I’ll have to make it quick,” Remy said.

So, without further ado, he hopped his little blue self out of the trolley and up its legs…very quietly…

Up above, he could hear the chef speaking fluently to his guests in French.
"Hmm. I wonder if

I’ll be able to-- Oh! Umph!" He’d just realized that he had been talking out loud, and in the open! As he

quickly stiffled his squeaky mumbles by clasping both paws over his blabbering mouth, he remembered something his

dad had once told him…

"Son, I know this may sound very harsh to you at eight years old, but

remember, if you ever come close to a human, make sure to remember these two very important words: 'Shut

up’." - Dad
“Huh? But I didn’t say anything, daddy!” - Remy
"No no no, I’m just

sayin’ that if you should ever meet a human, those are the two words you should remember. O.K.?" - Dad

“O.K.? Are those the words I should remember?” - Remy
"No no. ‘Shut up’, not

‘O.K.’" - Dad
“What? What did I say now, daddy?!” - Remy
"You didn’t say anything,

son! I’m just trying to say that…umm. That I…uhhh… Oh, blast it, what was I sayin’?" - Dad

“Would you like some help, daddy?”- Remy
"Uhhh…no no, son. It’s alright, I’ll think of

it!" - Dad
"Maybe you should eat a yummy banana? It’ll help to make you smarter! I’ll go get

one…" - Remy
“Son–” - Dad
“Or I could call mommy instead.” -

Remy
“Son?!” - Dad
“Yeah, dad?” - Remy
“Shut up.” - Dad
"Are we

talking about the humans now, daddy?" - Remy
“Ugh…” - Dad

Yep, he would definitely

have to watch out for himself, otherwise his dad would start lecturing him again…

After running

underneath the trolley and proceeding to shake himself free of the shivers that were running down his spine, Remy

jauntily got back up again and crawled up the side of the trolley’s leg.

Boink! A sharp pain ran through

his skull as he banged his head against the top of a cheese tray that was sticking out above him. Rubbing his

aching cranium, Remy poked his nose over the top of the trolley, trying to take a peek at the guests without

being seen. “Ahh…the unusual guests today! The mayor and his wife…” Remy quietly remarked.

Up and over the trolley he flipped, landing right beside one of the biggest rolls of cheese he’d ever

seen. “Man, this thing is as big as my house! Bigger!” he thought. He took a bite out of the prize

cheese. It was as good as gold. He took another bite. It was definitely the cheese of choice for his souffle’

dinner. He just had to have it! Looking to his left, Remy saw three little slices of the same type of cheese

lying on the tray, as if they were waiting for him to pick them up. Greedily, he stacked one, two, three of the

miniscule tidbits onto his back, only to realise that, altogether, they were too heavy for him to carry. He could

only pick one. But which one? Remy would have to make sure that the one he picked was the tastiest, freshest,

most perfect piece for his soufle dinner, or things wouldn’t be right!

As he contemplated with himself

on whether or not he should choose one piece of cheese over the other, he also listened to the chef boastily

present his superb cheeses to the mayor and his soulmate:

"And tonight before the desert course we

present for your pleasure the traditional…cheese trolley. To start, we have an excellent clochette. Creamy.

Very nice, very light. Next, a brebis. Hearty, with a surprising bite! I think you’ll find… And finally, the

piece de’ resistance: A very special, very rare…"

But at that moment, everything went horribly

wrong…

“RAAAAT!!”, screamed the mayor’s wife. Remy was caught red-handed! Why, oh why, had

he ever paused to spend sooo much time choosing which blasted piece of cheese he wanted?!

“Run…run…RUN!!!,” Remy’s panicked brain thought. Remy snatched one of the cheese

pieces, jumped off the trolley, flew between tables, and ducked under people’s feet as he raced toward the only

exit he could think of: The kitchens!

As he ran towards them the kichen door swung mercifully open, as a

chef carrying a tray full of food emerged through it, yanking up his foot just as Remy ran under it and into the

first kitchen.

Boy, did he run! Remy didn’t think that he had ever ran faster in his whole life as he

lost his balance and slid underneath a cupboard, loosing his cheese in the process. He bumped his head a second

time…against the cupboard, scrambling all the while to pick up his cheese and get to his rat hole as fast as

possible. Whiz! Bang! Crash! Several kitchen utensils and knick-knacks flew by the panicked rat’s head as Remy

skidded around the corner of the cupboard; two pans, a pizza cutter, and a shoe landed in a heap beside him.

“Oh, hallelujah!,” Remy cried, as he spotted a broom before him that had been left to lean

alongside a counter. Up the broom he climbed, just as Remy realized that the place he was now on top of was where

he was most vulnerable. Poor Remy was in plain sight of the outraged chefs and their utensils…

“Get le rat!”
“Kill ze rat!!!”

“They’re all gonna murder me!!”

he thought. Remy screached out loud himself as another shoe flew over his head and splashed into the sink right

behind him. In one last attempt to escape, Remy jumped off the counter and flopped down onto the floor below,

earning himself two sprained knees and a stomach cramp in the process.

As he raced through the door that

led into the second kitchen, thanking God that he’d made it through the first half of the storm, Remy distinctly

heard a dozen large cutting knives fling into the door behind him, and one of the chefs yelling:

"If

zat rat ever shows his face in my kitchen again, ze customer complaints will go through ze roof! Mark my words: I

would gladly give fifteen euros for a pair of his shiny whiskers! I’ll get zat rodent, if it iz zee last thing I

do!!"

Nice work, Mitch. I love how Remy

changes dramatically at the first sign- or smell, rather- of cheese, as this reminds the reader that despite his

apparently highly developed personality, he is still a rat. And that conversation between Remy and his father was

hilarious.

[b]Great job

Mitch! keep up the good work! [/b]

lizardgirl: (bows) I am most honored by your ever flowing

compliments. Yes, I did want to keep the “rat quality” in Remy, even though he is a Pixar character.

So, you like the “Remy/Dad” scene too, huh? That makes two then! It seems like you and my

sister have something in common.

JV IS TIZ!!! PIXAR: Thank you, sir!

Chapter three should be up soon – sometime today, I believe.

I like it! I like the fact that you made a Christmas story and how you

incorporated the teaser trailer into it. And that conversion between Remy and his dad was funny!

lennonluvr9: Why, thank you!

Yep. Since

Christmas is coming up, and because everyone loves Christmas, I decided to have the beginning of the story center

around that time of year. Plus, the Ratatouille teaser trailer has such a cheerful

mood about it, that I couldn’t not place the complex of my novel around that

particular season.

The only reason I incorporated the teaser trailer into my work is because it’s the

only “evidence” that I have to base my writings on. I guess it kinda works though, huh? I’m glad you

like it!

Haha – that makes three! I’m always happy when I make people laugh. I’m glad you like the

Remy-dad part.

Note: Chapter three will be a little late due to internet

problems. I’ll have it up as soon as possible!

Although it is a little late, it is here, at least.

Chapter three is now available for your viewing pleasure!

I have to admit that I am not too proud

of this chapter, either. It took me a while to write it out, which is surprising…as it is probably the shortest

chapter, besides chapter one, that is. Basically, I simply “planned, panned, and scanned” the chapter:

I planned the complex and center of the sub-story in a rush.
I

“panned” (laid down) the plot-line of the chapter very quickly.
I

scanned the final result three or four times – making revisions along the way –

until I was finally satisfied with it.

To date, I think it is the “messiest” chapter to boot,

but I hope you all enjoy it anyway.

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[i:ee07a2d2d

9]CHAPTER TROIS: NO ONE AT THE DINNER TABLE[/i]

Remy’s heart was still pounding as he slid

down the sewer pipes and up the waterways towards his home. All he thought about was getting to the safety of his

comfy, tissue box bed before something else horrible happened. After the excitement of the day, with the chef’s

angry screaches still whistling through his ears, he was ready for a good night’s sleep. However, he still had

his family to feed. Thank goodness he had kept a tight hold on his prize cheese the whole time…

Up the

main sewer and into a hole in a wall he went, following his well-memorized path towards his dark, dreary

dwelling. The sewer seemed even quieter than usual as he slithered along the slimy floors of the underground. Did

all the commotion upstairs upset even the residents down below? It sure seemed to have done so, for he didn’t

see one whiskered rodent anywhere, with the exception of a couple of city mice along a dark corridor. Remy

noticed that they were talking in whispers, apparently trying to keep their gossip as quiet as possible. When

they saw Remy, they uttered a short gasp and scurried off. Remy eyed them suspiciously, as the two by-standers

scuttled around a corner and out of sight. Had his foolishness traveled around the neighborhood that quickly? He

must have aroused a bigger mishap than he thought. He only hoped that his mom and pop hadn’t heard the news

before-hand.

Two minutes later, at approxiamately 9:48 PM, he found himself back home. Trying with all

his might not to look too guilty when he walked through the door, Remy turned the creaky handle that led into his

house. He only poked half of his nose through the door when he opened it, determined to sniff out any member of

his family that might be close by. After eleven sniffs, he felt it was safe to walk in without being noticed.

Prying the door open creak by creak, inch by inch, Remy slipped inside the house and closed the door as

quietly as he could. Looking around, he found that he couldn’t look around; the house was pitch black.

“Phew!” Remy thought to himself. “They’re already in bed!”
But his high-hopes were

short lived… If they were asleep, then that must have meant that they’d gone to bed without dinner. Oh, what

a failure he was! Remy had disappointed his family! And this was the first time they had gone to bed without full

bellies, too. Remy felt his ears droop. Figuring that he may as well go to bed himself, he shuffled off towards

his room, his prize cheese still securely fastened under his arm…

Slip. Crash! Before he knew what had

happened, Remy found himself lying flat on the floor, stomach first.
"Gosh, darn it! I forgot about that

trick step!" Remy muttered disgustedly to himself, realizing all too late that he had spoken out loud at the

wrong time…again. Slapping his paw over his face at his disgust, Remy heaved himself out of his embarassing

predicament, only to notice the sudden appearance of a light on in the hallway.
“Oh no…” Remy

shuddered. “I’ve gotta hide!”
Cursing himself for being such a fool-hardy coward, Remy dive-bombed

under his living room table, pulling his tail in after him for extra protection.

Out of the hallway popped

a young she-rat, not much younger than Remy was, though slightly more petite in build. Her fur was as white as

snow, with pink ears to match the bow tied around her furry neck. This little girl’s name was Genevieve, Remy’s

three week old, rascally sister – Remy often called her a “recipe for disaster”. He would not soon

forget the time she completely ruined his pancake breakfast by “accidently” tripping him, and the

precious eggs he was holding, onto the floor. Another time, she had stolen his spatula, thinking that it was a

play toy. And, of course, he would always remember the day she cut herself with one of his cutting knives. Poor

Remy had gotten all the blame, his mom having reprimanded him for leaving out his sharp kitchen tools where

little paws could find them.

Genevieve sneaked and peaked around every corner of the living room,

desparate to find whomever dared to intrude into her house. Remy pulled his tail in even further; the last thing

he wanted was for his sister, of all rats, to find him in this embarassing predicament. She was sure to taunt and

tease him for sure. At least she hadn’t found him…yet.

What Genevieve did find was a piece of cheese

lying on the floor; this, of course, Remy had dropped when he tripped on the loose floorboard. One sniff of the

thing told Genevieve that her brother was almost certainly about the room. Remy, cursing himself for forgetting

to snatch his cheese, stuck his head out from under his hiding place. Looking around, he saw that Genevieve was

now searching the couch. This could be his only chance… But just as he was about to fly down the hall, his

tattle-tail little sister flung her head around to stare right at him!

Remy burst out from under the

table and flew out the door as fast as his little blue legs would carry him, Genevieve hot on his tail. He ran

down the sewer pipes and took a sharp turn to the right down a hidden tunnel; having lived in the underground for

two months, he’d come to learn a few secrets about the sewer. Remy kept running, even though he was pretty sure

that he’d lost sight of his sister.
“Phew!” Remy exhaled. “That was too clo–.”

“–got ya’!” Quick as a flash, Genevieve latched onto Remy’s tail, Remy trying to fling her off

within the concave of his little hide-out.
“Get off of me!” Remy yelled. But Genevieve wouldn’t

let go; she’d captured her prize, and wasn’t going to let it get away anytime soon.

She pulled and

tugged at poor Remy’s tail, desperately trying to get him to follow her back to the house.
"What the

heck are you trying to do? Kill me?" Remy wailed. Genevieve stopped tugging just enough to give him a

piercing, self-satisfied stare.
“Come back home now, brother?” she asked him innocently.

“No,” Remy replied.
“Okie-day!” Remy felt his feet slip under his body as Genevieve

gave his tail one last, gigantic tug, and scampered off towards the opening of Remy’s hideout.
"Hey,

get back here you little squirt!" Remy yelled. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was someone

taking advantage of him and then running off without a second glance.

The chase was on! He followed his

sister up the main sewer, down through the twisting water pipes, and up into the basement of the Mimi’s cafe.

Around and around boxes they flew; under rickety tables and over discarded slabs of plywood. At one point, Remy

managed to latch his tail around his sister, but one good bite of it with her teeth told him that it wasn’t such

a good idea. For fifteen minutes, Remy chased his sister throughout the cafe’ basement and around the interior

of the sewer, finally nabbing her by the tail around a blind alley.
“Let me go! Let me go!” she

wailed. “I tell mommy!” But Remy just smirked.
“Ahh…go eat an apple,” he teased.

“Let go my tail!” Genevieve responded, frustrated.
“Never…” Remy grinned. Genevieve

folded her arms in disgust, while Remy dragged her back home, but not before she had a chance to wrap herself

around his tail again…

Twenty minutes later, an exhausted Remy slumped through the front door of his

house and into the living room, a little someone still clinging for life onto his tail. The first thing Remy saw

when he walked into the room was a smashed piece of cheese on the threadbare carpet. Remy figured he must have

run over it in his hast to flee the house. He heaved a sigh. All his fine work. And for what?

“Nothing…,” Remy muttered to himself. "No cheese. No “thank you, Remy”. No one at

the dinner table."
Nope. No one at all. Tired and exhausted, Remy dragged his now snoozing little sister

into her bed, quietly closed her door, and walked off down the hall to his room. Next time, he wouldn’t be so

foolish. Next time, he’d bring a hand grenade in case his little sister caught him again…

Nice character addition Mitch ! I could imagine her voice

better than anyone else’s . After all , the voice i’m thinking of can be done by your’s truly .

Lol, I love Genevieve’s

characterisation in this chapter particularly. You can really feel the pain that Remy has to go through, with a

sister like her!

gottalovepixar: Thank you!

lizardgirl: Haha – thank you very much! I modeled Genevieve after my two

sisters…

Special/Post Note: Chapter four may be a little late due to

“teen depression” on my part. This often happens, so don’t fret. I will continue writing as soon as I

feel in the mood.

Just keeping you all posted!

• Mitch

Hey , that

happens ! I almost didn’t post my 2nd chapter because my day kinda stunk , starting with spilling tea on my

brand new white hollister jacket ( that’s a brand , for all you people not in the U.S. , no idea if the store is

in other places )

I just read the

three chapters, and all I can say it’s that’s really good I like how you use the very few informations we

got for now on Ratatouille. There’s even a John Lasseter quote

Now, I

saw some things that felt a bit strange to me, as a French :

• the way you write the number of your chapters

in French is really appreciable. However, there’s a little mistake for the first one : “CHAPTER UN” is

preferable than “CHAPTER UNE”.

• This one is just an advice, 'cause you never tell in which year

the events are taking place. But today, in 2006 (and since some years), a French chef wouldn’t say "I would

gladly give 100 francs for a pair of his shiny whiskers!", but more likely

“I would gladly give 100 euros for a pair of his shiny whiskers!” (or 15

euros, 'cause 15 euros = 100 francs)

But, anyway, really nice and enjoyable effort from you.

Also, the first word you couldn’t understand in the teaser was “clochette” ; unfortunately, I didn’t

get the second one either. But if you ask me, it looks like a cheese made with cow’s milk in Pyr?n?es, called

Bethmale. But I listen to the teaser several times, and that’s not was he’s saying

There you go. And if you have any question relative to France or Paris, just send me a private message

; I’d be happy to help you

gottalovepixar - Heheh – yeah, that depression can get to you sometimes…

Archibald - Thank you very much for your wonderful review and advice, sir!

It is much appreciated…for my part. I always gladly accept any remarks or criticisims that come my way when

dealing with stories.

Your suggestions and “pointers” helped me to realize my mistakes, and so

I corrected them. “Francs” is now “Euros”, the name of the first cheese is now

“clochette”, and “une” has been changed to “un”. Again, thank you for the

reminders. I am currently studying French and already know a few simple words that can get me going. I can count

from 1-10 (sometimes 20) in French and can repeat several words and phrases. I’m still learning, but am having

fun doing it – it is a beautiful language.

And you’re welcome…concerning the fact that I am

counting my chapters the French way. I figured that it would be appropriate for the context.

And you

caught my John Lasseter quote? Awesome!