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Postby Fairly Odd New Yorker » Fri Mar 30, 2007 8:54 pm

You're welcome ^__^
I really think you should be an

author- I'm trying to be.

I'm writing a novel that I've developed for over a year now- the real problem

is just starting the thing. I read a book that helped me out- called 'If You Want To Write'(I forget the author

=P but if you're interested I'll find out). It gives great tips and I highly recommend it. It helped me to feel

less pressured and just to write how the story goes without thinking of who will hate it= big problem with me.


Writing is fun, but I've always written fanfiction- once it comes to flying solo on your original

ideas, it gets hard. I just kept redeveloping until I came to what I truly wanted, and the developing is going to

continue- I'm sure of it. But you're right- it's loads of fun. ^__^
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Postby sharpie » Fri Apr 06, 2007 6:19 am

Great stuff, Mitch. I

am looking forward to Chapter Huit. :D
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Postby lizardgirl » Fri Apr 06, 2007 3:09 pm

Mitch- Sorry I haven't reviewed in so long, but since

it's Easter now and there's no school, I've had a chance to sit down and read through what you've written.

The characterisation, especially of Remy, is building up very well, and you can just feel the eagerness and love

he has for food. I love the relationshuip between Emile and Remy, also. Nice cliffhanger! :D
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Postby Mitch » Fri Apr 06, 2007 5:28 pm

FONY - The

important thing -- at least to me -- is to believe in what you're doing will be successful; dont' look at the

negative side of things and worry whether or not someone will love your hate your work. There is bound to be

somebody out there who will cheer you on and compliment your writing. Also, don't stress out -- have fun! The

more fun you have writing your story, and the more you really get "into it", the better it turns out.

Sooo...reach for the stars, I say! Reading books on the subject is a great start, and not giving up is

number two on the list of things to do when contructing a story (unless it begins to turn out horribly --

(snigger) ). So just keep up the good work, whatever you're writing! I'm sure it'll turn out wonderful. ;)

sharpie - Thanks, dude/dudette! Yep, I'm going to begin work on number

eight soon. :D

lizardgirl - Well, thank you! I'm much obliged! The

relationship between Remy and Emile is based upon the bond between my sister and I, as we're very close.

I wrote a chapter last night that appears near the very end of my story -- I just felt like writing it at

that moment, as I was in the mood to do it. It involves a very deep and heartful moment in the plot; I can't

wait to submit it to you all to read, but I'll have to wait until I finish the other chapters first.
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Postby Fairly Odd New Yorker » Wed Apr 11, 2007 9:43 pm


get what you mean. ^^ I'm going on a sorta freefall with my novel. I'm writing whatever comes to mind as far as

dialogue and description goes, and I'll fill in whatever needs 'fluffing up' later on.


update! xD I keep checking back to see if you made an update and you haven't! =P

Don't rush though.

Just wanted to say I eagerly await your next chapter. ^^
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Postby Mitch » Wed Apr 11, 2007 10:09 pm

FONY - Cha -- I do the exact same thing: I write what pops into

my head and then polish the thing up later to produce a good, clean, finished result.


for all of you out there who are waiting for an update...:

Haha -- yeah, sorry I haven't

been up-to-date on chapters lately, but I do have good news: I just saved a bunch of money by.... Well, ok, I

didn't go to Geico, but I am half-way through the eighth chapter! Prepare to read to your heart's content!

(heheh) ;)
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Postby Maggie_PixarFan » Fri Apr 13, 2007 8:21 pm

Mitch, I've just read the whole fanfic and... I

I'm still waiting for Chapter Huit! :wink:
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Postby Mitch » Fri Apr 13, 2007 9:31 pm

Maggie - Haha -- thanks, Maggie! :D :D *hugs*

I'm almost done with chapter huit! It's

coming along rather nicely near the end.... I'll just have to touch some things up at the beginning. Other than

that, get your eyes ready for reading! (snigger) ;)
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Postby lennonluvr9 » Sat Apr 14, 2007 2:16 pm

I'm sure we're all eagerly awaiting to find out what's gonna happen next! :)
"You would not believe what I've been through tonight!"

"That's what comes of teaching science by television" -Prof. Foot, Help!
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Postby Mitch » Mon Apr 16, 2007 6:43 pm

Eh -- I suppose the beginning could have been better, but I do kinda like how the ending

turned out....





"Puh-hahah! Oh man, that was a close one!" Remy joked to his comrade, the former of whom was brushing

dust and grime off of his sewer-infested fur.

"Heheh, you got that right. I think we scored a

nine point eight!" Emile playfully remarked back, his paw over his mouth in an attempt to halt the

continuous flow of uncontrollable giggles.

Remy and his brother, Emile, had just finished jumping down

through an open manhole outside the restaurant before landing sprawled on the floor in a very undignified manner.

Leaving the heavenly sky filled with stars above the manhole behind, the duo wasted no time in shaking their fur

of any loose kitchen crumbs or dust bunnies so as not to look too inconspicuous when approaching the doorstep of

their residence. The two brothers had a mind to keep their after-hour secrets in a locked and enclosed box...away

from the prying eyes and inquisitive, interrogative minds of their parents.

Walking along the sewer

floor, with Remy occassionally stopping to remove a plastic straw cover or a piece of toilet paper from his feet,

Emile and Remy reminicinsed of their nightly -- and deadly -- adventures....

"Eh, more like a

seven point two," the young blue rat sighed. "Heh -- man, that was foolish. I could kick myself!"

Remy sighed again, kicking a nearby balled-up wad of paper with his foot...and sending it splashing into the

sewer waterways only a tail's length away.

"Ahhh, come on. What's a little miscalculation in

the kitchen, eh? It's not like he'll notice my footprints on the floury potholder anyway...," Emile said,

throwing his foolishness to the winds in a very off-hand and undignified manner.


You...you...you-you WHAT?!?" Remy blurted out stupidly.

"I just dropped a bit of flour on

the potholder when we scampered off, that's all. I swear! That kitchen boy was probably too stupid to notice it


"Emile, how could you be so...so...."

"So what?" Emile

pondered, starting to look rather hurt and bewildered.

"Ugh. Stupid!"


looked behind him, hoping to notice someone else besides himself standing in the vacinity. After a quick search

however, it became apparent that no one but he and his very frustrated-looking brother were the only ones in

sight...save a couple of rats wandering around the confines of the sewer in the distance.

"Are you talking to me?" the pudgy little brother asked his companion tenderly, half-closing

his eyes in a wincing manner...ready to brace himself for whatever storm Remy cooked up and let out in rage....

But Remy didn't explode in his brother's face. Instead, he let his arms hang loose...admitting

defeat. He knew that he'd never be able to get his brother to understand such important things as wiping off

one's footprints from a counter so as not to be accidently discovered. Better to save his energy for something

else, like escaping a few rat traps tomorrow....

"Pfff. Eh, forget it. It's no cheesecake in a

burning oven," Remy said, shaking the whole thing off in one sentence. "Let's just.... Let's just go

back tomorrow and try again, eh?"

Emile nodded, now smiling his big doleful grin again.

"Hey, wouldn't that be funny if pops could see us now, huh? He'd probably go ballistic!" Emile joked.

"Ah, no sweat. Dad probably didn't even notice that we'd gone," Remy countered, internally

laughing with himself at the very thought.

"Cha. He's probably sleepin' in his cot right

now...," Emile snorted.

"And his newspaper in his paw! You can't forget the

newspaper," said Remy, chuckling.

"Yeah yeah, and that silly twig in his mouth!"

"Oh yeah, and that blatant...soulless expression, like this...." And Remy puffed out his

cheeks and furrowed his brows, making him look like a dead-beat pufferfish on a lazy afternoon.

"Hahahaha!", the two brothers laughed, slapping each other on the back in light of their humorous

little joke.

"Hey," said Emile, "Hey, I bet he's walking down the road wearing that

expression right now!"

"Oh sure, like he'd be energetic enough to walk out the


"Yea-- Ge-- Uhh. Uhhh...Remy?" Emile trembled....

"Not to sound

harsh or anything, but ya' know...pops is gettin' kinda "up there", you know what I mean?"

"R-R...Remy?" Emile stuttered, nudging his brother urgently.

"And he still

plays Ping-Paw Ball like he's four weeks old. I mean, come on, man! Wake up and

smell the chilli cheese omelettes, for crying out loud...."


"What?!" The "what", Remy then saw, turned out to be a "who", and that

"who" was alot closer to Remy's face than he'd have liked it to be.


evening," replied a mournful, angry-looking figure in front of the two young rats, his paws on his hips.

"Sooo...you mind repeating that last sentence again? Only I'm afraid I'm too

old and lazy to walk out my own door on my own two


"Uh.... - gulp- Heh. Hey! Hi pops!" Remy said bashfully, giving his dad a

tiny wave with his fingers and grinning stupidly. "Heheh. Hey uh, some weather we're having today,


"Oh yes, some weather all right. Not a cloud in the sky; stars out; owls and cats

ready to swoop down on you any second; rats running around in the kitchen when they're not supposed to!!"

"Uhhh...r-r-rats?? Heh -- what rats?" Remy shuddered, his voice trembling with every

syllable. Emile, eyes shifting nervously back and forth from Remy to his father, tried to remain calm and

assertive whilst attempting to not make eye contact with either of the steadfast rats...especially the tall,

angry one. He could obviously sense that his nerve-racked brother was tyring to gloss the whole thing

over...unsuccessfully. Although, from the looks of things, his pop wasn't buying it....

"Son," said the father rat, his very word making Remy jump ever so slightly with a respectful fright,

even though no scent of a harsh note could be heard in his tone of voice, "let me show you


"Oh no.... The lecture," Remy thought to

himself, disgusted.

Taking Remy's paw in his, Django turned tail and led his forelorn son down the

long, wet, and dripping hall towards a nearby corner. Remy, his paw still held in a firm grip and his head

hanging pitifully like a convicted murderer being led to the gallows, trodded along in his father's

wake...trying to ignore the constant tugging of his arm and the pitter-patter of pudgy little feet supporting the

weight of his chubby brother behind him. To take his mind off of his embarassing predicament -- which, in turn,

was earning alot of stares from passer-by -- the little chef, who was feeling even more diminuative then usual,

glanced up at the dark and looming walls of the sewer that flashed past him. Although he and his family had taken

up residence in this dirty, rotten habitat only a couple weeks ago, Remy had spent most of his time away from the

stench and grime...and instead in the luxurious kitchens of Gusteau's glorious restaurant. Henceforth, he had

never really gotten to do much exploring around the sewer waterways in his spare time, and it was only now that

he realized certain little nuances and curious tidbits about the place that he'd never noticed before until


Ahead of him, and looming ever closer, was a large open space which resembled a dome-shaped,

almost labratorious-looking, cave...only with much more luminosity than a regular den would accompany. The source

of light came from an open manhole in the ceiling of the dome-built cavern, the rays of moonlight hiting various

parts of the sewer and scurrying rats that walked into the light of the protruding beams. On the far left-hand

side of the dome, in a dusty corner, sat a huddle of rats by a fire that had seemingly been crafted in an old tin

tuna can. Two of the rats appeared to be having a lengthy argument about the quality of lobster legs, whilst the

remaining three kept busy playing a game of Par-cheese-y. One of them Remy

recognized as his family's own nextdoor neighbor: a delightful, yet elderly, old fellow who spent most of his

time passing the day away with checkers and the night away telling youngsters not-too-frightening ghost stories

of cats and mouse traps.

As his dad rounded a corner that swerved to the right, Remy took a glance at

the walls...and realized that long, solid pieces of cardboard with names written on them in waterproof ink were

strewn around corners of the walls like street signs: Silver St.; Water Closet Way; La Rouge

Circle; Tag-Bit Path; Ratatouille Rail-Way
.... Ratatouille? "What an interesting name for a

sign...," Remy thought to himself, unable to contain his curiosity despite his pitiful predicament.

"Almost sounds like some kind of delicacy...."

It was only when Django rounded a second

corner that Remy's ears picked up the sound of a second pair of feet pattering along behind him. Remy didn't

like the sound of them; they connotated a rascally air about them, and each foot seemed to move in a quick

step...occassionally missing a pace...as if the new intruder kept tripping over his or her tail.

"Brudder! Umph.... Bro-brudder! Wait for me!"

"Ohhh...nooo...," Remy mourned,

letting out a long...slow breath of air in indignation. Django, on the other hand, stopped short in a split



"Genevieve?!" Django blurted out, turning

swiftly 'round to face the little pair of feet that halted quite suddenly beside Remy. "Ugh, Genevieve...I

told you to stay at home with your mom."

"Umm.... Umm...mummy not home," Genevieve

sweetly replied, one hand clutching Remy's fur and the other holding on to her short and diminuative

tail...which she was now lightly chewing between her still-not-fully-developed incisors.


what?" Django said, surprised.

"Uhh...mu-...umm.... Mummy had to store."

"No offense, but could you speak plain English, please?" Remy said in an annoyed fashion, his free hand

trying to brush Genevieve's clutching paws off his fur and his eyes starting to droop. He must have stayed out

later than he thought....

"Remy!" Django countered, glaring at his exhausted son.

"Alright, go on, sweetie. Where did mummy go? To the store?"

"Uh-huh. And she be back in

no time!" Genevieve said delightly, raising her hands up in the air and pasting a big smile on her face as

she said "no time".

"But what about Marie? Didn't your mother tell her to watch you

while she was gone?" Django asked the little white ball of fluff.

"Yeah...but...but she

playing with her hair in her room! And...et, um, et la porte was open...sooo...," said Genevieve, letting

loose a short bout of French in her sentence and wagging her tail in delight.

Django rolled his eyes

and sighed, disgusted. "Pfff.... Ohhh...boy."

"Pfff.... Ohhh...boy," copied

Genevieve, giggling to herself childishly as she said it.

Django simply glared at her, obviously

trying not to blow his top in this odd situation. "Did she even notice you run out the door?" He asked,

doing his best to remain calm and assertive.

"Je ne crois pas...," Genevieve responding, now

playing with her toes.

"Why you little rat you...," blurted out Remy, already quite upset.

"Why you little rat...you! Hee hee!" mimed Genevieve, giggling.

"Dude, quit


"Dude, quit it!"

"Stop it!"

"Stop it!"

"Ahhhh...SHUT UP!!"


"Remy!! Zip

it!" Djano yelled indignantly.

"Rem-yyy! Zip it!"

"Genevieve, please

stop copying me."

"Okie-dokey!" said Genevieve, giving her father the "ok"

signal as she said so.

"Now turn around..."

"Like this?" asked

Genevieve, obeying her father with a simple turn of her heels.

"That's right! Now, on your

mark...get set...go! Hup! Duo, trois, quatre. Hup! Duo, trois, quatre..."

"Hup! Duo, trois,

quatre! Hup...duo, trois, quatre! Hup..." And off went the little albino rascal, straightening the pink bow

attatched round her spindly neck as she marched back off in the direction she had come...in a very zig-zaggity


"How come she always does what you say?!" Remy questioned his father, the latter

of whom had his eye set on his light-footed daughter disappearing into the distance, and making sure that she

didn't miss one step off the route to home.

"Because I'm smarter than you...," Django

replied matter-of-factly.


"Well, it's true ya' know."

"No...I mean. Ouch! Hey!" Remy cried, cringing and pulling back slightly as if in pain.


"Yow! You're breaking my arm, dad!"

"Oh, will you look

at that...," Django obliviously stated.

"DAD!!" Remy shouted, trying to pull his

dad's bone-crunching grip off of his thin and fragile arm.

"Huh? Oh. Ohhh! Pff. Heheh -- sorry

son," chuckled the father rat, releasing Remy of his tight embrace in a split second. Remy just glared at

his far-sighted pop, rubbing his arm and biting his teeth to distract himself from the engaging pain searing

through his arm beneath his tender blue fur.

"And now...to business!" Django exclaimed

excitely...throwing his arms up in the air and smiling delightedly, the corner of his mouth crinkling in a wide

grin, all sign of annoyance or hard-bitten frustration in his voice forgotten.

"Bu- Umm...

-cough- B-business?" stuttered Remy, fearing the worst. Emile was still lying in his brother's wake in a

sitting position, his thumbs twiddling and his large, round shadow stretching out to twice his real size. And

although he was keeping himself entertained with a scrumptious, juicy and half-eaten strawberry lying in his

path, it was the business statement that got his attention, for that could only mean one of two things: Either

Remy was about to get punished (one of Django's favorite things to do when he was bored out of his mind and had

nothing else to do...) or was to be sentenced to stay away from any restaurant kitchens for a week (something

that Remy never paid heed to seriously). And Emile, obviously, wasn't the only one who knew about those two


Remy, in the other hand, was putting on a show of trembling in his father's wake; however,

Emile knew better than to fall for a simple trick like that. His stick-figured brother often pretended to shake

with fear right before his dad announced his "sentence", always hoping that his pitiful -- yet silent

-- plea for mercy would get the better of his lowly-living father.

As Emile was silently

contemplating and arguing with himself on which form of "grounding" his father would choose for Remy,

and on whether or not Django would fall for Remy's "trembling trick" once again, the truth presented


"Remy? Ya' see that banana peel over there?" Django stated quietly, pointing to a

rotten, yellow, fleshy substance lying not a couple feet away from him.

"Yeah?" Remy

responded, still wobbling ever so slightly on his boney legs.

"This sewer ain't exactly that

clean with that old thing lying around."

"It's not exactly spotless without

it either,"
Remy mentally grumbled to himself, Emile staring at him as though he knew exactly

what his down-hearted brother was thinking.

"Have fun, son," Django said softly, patting his

son on the back as a sign as if perhaps to say, "Good luck cleaning up the garbage before dinner time!"

"Was that meant to be kindly? Only I think he broke my back with that "fond

farewell"...," Remy muttered, grinding his teeth and lashing his tail in a fit of rage as his father

jotted off down the grimy sewer road to partake in the ensuing game of Par-cheese-y

continuing between the huddle of rats in a far corner. As long as he could remember, Remy had always been

appointed the "poison sniffer" in his family: an appropriately-named title, judging by the fact that,

every week, Remy had to sniff every single piece of scrap and garbage that lay in the surrounding vacinity to

determine whether it was edible or not. He'd done this back at his old home, and the tradition certainly hadn't

stopped when he'd landed in the sewer either. Unsurprisingly enough, the young chef wasn't exactly crazy about

this whole idea, and was fondly gettting sick of it by the minute....

"Ahh...don't mind pops,

he's always leaving you alone to clean up the garbage anyway. It's not like you haven't done it before,

bud," Emile soothed.

"Yeah, and it's not like I haven't done it a million times, either.

I'm sick of this place, bro! I wanna.... I-I wanna be somebody!"

"Tell that to pops,"

Emile joked sarcastically, not really meaning what he said. But Remy pricked up his ears, pondering....

"Ya' know, I think I will," he said, his fingers rubbing and caressing his soft, fuzzy chin as if in



"Yeah... Yeah, that's exactly what I'll do!"

"You'll get the pep talk..."

"I'll march up to dad right now and say,

"Hey, I'm not eating any more of your rotten onions!"" cranked out Remy, clearly not listening to

a word his brother was saying. His brother, moreover, was starting to chew on the rotten banana peel that Remy

was supposed to dispose of....

"I'm telling you, dad won't like it. He'll have you under his

grip before you can say..."

"...peeled potato chips! I'm goin' in! I...huh? What's


Emile's eyes darted to where Remy's were focusing. Lying on the floor in front of the

turquoise-painted little chef, rested a dusty albino-colored slip of parchment paper that lay crumpled up in a

heap on the dirty, cement-carpeted sewer floor. It looked quite old, as if it had been used several times.

Picking up the small parcel and pearing at it more closely, Remy noticed that there appeared to be some miniscule

writing on it...with traces of more words that had been constantly erased over and over again. There were even

little holes poking through the paper -- holes so small that a creaure any bigger than a rat would not be be able

to poke its fingers through them. But instead of simply discarding of the wrecklessly-handled slip of paper,

Remy's face split into a wide grin. Naturally. Only his sister Genevieve would care to send him something as

unnoticeable as this....

Often, and usually whenever Genevieve wanted her big brother to bake her

some cookies or gather for her some candy, the little flour-colored youngster would leave pieces of paper with

notes on them lying around where Remy could (usually) find them. Smiling in spite of himself, Remy carefully

unfolded the botched up little piece of paper and attempted to read the scrawny-written, zig-zaggity note

splattered upon the parchment. Making out the words, Remy read aloud:

Bonjour, big

brudder! Moi having party with mommy tomorrow. Lots of tea and crumpets! Could big brudder make some cookies? Me

promise not to eat all of dough this time!

And written in the bottom right-hand corner

of the paper, heavily blotched with ink and signed next to a diminuative pawprint, lay the name


"Heheh -- why, the little rascal...."


questioned Emile, still chewing lightly on the peel of the rotten banana that he was dragging behind him.

"This is exactly what I need!" said Remy, slapping the paper with his paw as he said it.

"So dad thinks that I'm a worthless piece of garbage, eh? Well...heheh! We'll just see about that, now

won't we?" he grumbled, tucking the piece of paper into a fold of his fur.

"Dad's not

gonna like this...," Emile stated quietly to himself, not noticing that Remy was fully aware of every word

he uttered.

"Ohh...pish-posh and pompidou peanut butter. Let's go! Saddle up, my fair


"But I'm still hungry!" complained "Rollie", eating the interior

of the banana as he said it.

"Exactly. Now come on! Straighten up! AtteeeenTION!!"

And as suddenly as if Remy had just cracked a whip at him, Emile immediately dropped the peel he was holding,

stood up as straight as a soldier -- or, at least, as straight as his little legs would allow him to -- ,

furrowed his brow and placed his right paw to his forehead...as if ready and waiting to give a salute at the

first word of command. Obviously, the two scruffy brothers had practiced this little "training session"

of theirs for some time, perhaps just for kicks or simply as practice in order to be "on the alert" at

any moment.

"As you know, we have a kink in the system," Remy stated matter-of-factly and

in a very straight-forward fashion, reminiscent of a general ready to engage in battle...and alerting his troops

of the faculties and dangers they must face in the process. Noticing a wayward stick lying on the ground by his

feet, Remy picked it up and began to pace up and down the sewer floor, pointing the stick at his brother every

now and then as if in charge of a very life-threatening situation.

"We're all aware of the

"problem". Dad doesn't think I'm "worthy" enough to be a fine flamboyant chef without

getting my whiskers dirty at least once..."

"Umm...general?" Emile asked, bobbing up

and down on his posterior and waving his paw high up in the air.

"Oui? And make it quick,

sergeant!" commanded Remy, pointing the stick at his brother.

"Does the plan involve

food?" questioned Emile, his stomach rumbling in unison.

"Of course it does -- that's the

whole point! We're gonna cake..er..bake some cookies..."

Emile's ears pricked up in


"...and serve them to dad."

Just as quickly as they had risen,

the chubby brown rat's fluffly little ears drooped sadly back down disappointedly.


Genevieve, too," Remy added as an after-thought. "Now buck up there, sergeant! Look alive!"

Up jumped Emile, ready for action!

"All men move to your stations! Let's

go, go, GO!!!! Start your engines!"

Almost instantly, Emile plopped

down on all four feet and started rotating his tail around and around in a circle like a diminuative little

rudder...sending pieces of dirt and sod behind him to fly out of his way and into the faces of other rats passing

behind him.

"Take position!!" Remy yelled over the noise of the "rudder".

"Aye-aye, captain!" shouted aloud a squeaky voice that didn't sound at all like Emile's....

"Wha-? Matey?? MATEY!! Stop the engines! Stop the engines!"
screached Remy, waving his arms

impatiently to attempt to halt his brother from continuing with the tail spinning procedure.


said, 'aye-aye' there? No one says 'aye-aye' in my station without permission!" Looking up and down, the

little blue chef searched high and low for any sign of the vocal intruder. But alas!...not a soul could he find

who appeared to have uttered that short phrase...save a diminuative, puffy-cheeked, stout-haired fluff of a ball

in the form of an apparently innocent little mouse. He was rather greyish-brown in color, with a short tuft of

hair that stuck up from the top of his head...making him look as if he had a triangular-shaped mowhawk. And if

the obscure hair-do wasn't enough to compliment him, the mouse's back feet were spread out at an odd

angle...with his left food turned outward to the left and his right foot facing in the opposite direction. But

despite his unusual, yet rather intriguing, structure...he had a very friendly and confidential air about his

personality: everything from his black-button nose to his spindly tail seemd to emit a rather profusive

generosity about the place. He didn't look more four months old -- an adolescent young mouse, and one with a

very jittery personality at that. His name was "Pompidou", a rascally little acquaintance of Remy's

whom he had met in his early years. And despite his rather unusual quality of being seemily

"mangetized" to Remy and his family -- following them wherever they went -- , he had a knack of popping

up at just the right moment....

"Pompidou? What the heck are you doing here?" Remy asked the

little grey mouse intimidatingly, the mouse -- moreover -- taking care to place his hands behind his back in an

act of submission.

"Why, scouting for crumbs, captain!" emitted the mouse in a very squeaky

fashion, his whiskers suddenly trembling excitedly. "Making crackers I hear you were, Regy!"

"It's 'Remy', and I'm making cookies you fool, not crackers!" Remy stated, his paws on his hips.

"I help you, monsieur!"

"Oh, for the love of peanut butter...," Remy


"Looks like you've got a second soldier, captain!" Emile said happily, glad to

know that he wouldn't be the only one gathering supplies and ingredients.

"Pfff...," Remy

sighed. "Ohh...all right. All paws to your battlestations, now! We're gonna clean up this dump like peanut

butter in a freshly-made sandwich; like tap water running through a dirty sink; like a lawnmover in the yard, now

come on!!! Let's move, move, MOVE!!!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" both Emile and the mouse

replied obediently.

"Umm...monsieur capitan? What exactly we supposed to collect? Buttons, oui

oui? Or papillions?" Pompidou squeaked.

"No no, my dear comrade. Today...we will be

collecting cookie ingredients from Gusteau's! kitchens! Pompidou, I want you to search kitchens two and four.

And make sure to watch out for Colette's knife -- she's fast.... And "Rollie"! You...umm....you just

go wherever. Pick any kitchen."

"Le kitchens, monsieur? I thought we were supposed to

"clean up zees dump", yes?" questioned Pompidou, confused.

"We are," stated

Remy matter-of-factly, "My dad: We're going to clean up his attitude, that's what we're gonna do!"

Remy said, grinning mischievously.

"Ohh...oui oui, capitan! We go to do kitchens right we are,

yes! I not fail you, Regy!"

As all three comrades slipped off quietly to carry out their

individually appointed missions, Pompidou following his own hidden route, Remy couldn't help but notice

something funny about his shadow. Not only was there one following him, but two! Looking behind him

inquisitively, who should he see but his brother Emile following his every footstep instinctively. Remy instantly

rolled his eyes at the grime-encrusted ceiling, sighing silently to himself. His pound-packed and chubby brother

had always taken to following him around since he was three weeks old. Although, as annoying as it sometimes got,

there was something rather endearing about it, too....

Stopping for a split second, Remy sniffed the

air inquisitively. "Uh-oh."

"What?! What is it?!!" Emile jumped, immediately

going into panic mode as he usually did whenever the least little thing sounded (or smelled) suspicious.

"I smell a rat...," Remy said, smirking.

"A rat?! Where? Where?!"

"Ahh! There he is! He's over there!"

"Where?! Where?!!! Get it off!"

Remy sniggered. "Haha! You nut!"

"Ooo...nut? What kind of nut?"


"Ooo...yuck. I hate those things. Ooo -- a macadamia nut!" Emile

said, expiring his words in ecstasy as he ran over to an abandoned macadamia nut lying on the floor close by.

"Hahaha!!" laughed the two brothers, giggling uncontrollably as if they were rambunctious

youngsters again, and causing passer-by to stare at them indignantly.

"Heh -- dude, why do you

keep following me, anyway?" Remy asked his pudgy brother, as they both headed off towards Gusteau's

restaurant again for the second time that night.

"I dunno. Why do you keep saying

"dude"," Emile countered.

"I dunno. It's some weird, American term that I like.

I heard some tourists saying it once..." Remy said, climbing up a steel ladder that led to an open manhole

at the top of the ceiling.

"Sooo....Remy. What exactly was that secret reci-...reci-"

"-recipe," Remy corrected his brother, annoyed.

"Mm. Yeah. That,"

muttered Emile, almost indistinctly, attempting to dislodge a few left-over pieces of macadamia nut stuck between

his teeth while climbing up the slippery ladder after his brother and out into the open air.


rolled his eyes. His family had never really approved of his love for cleanlines and good-tasting morsels, or

him...for that matter. Having lived with them for pretty much forever, he'd slowly learned to wave it off.

However, it still got on his nerves a little every now and then....

Dodging a red bicycle that passed

quite close to he and his brother, Remy bounded off the street and onto a nearby sidewalk. Behind him, Emile was

still tenderly hunting for dropped tidbits along a slippery patch of floor, stopping every now and then to

scratch the back of his right ear with his hind foot -- a difficult feat, considering the fact that his rather

pudgy posture often got in the way of his diminuative limbs.

It was only after he and Emile had

turned a corner down a blind alley -- one that led to the back door of Gusteau's! restaurant -- that Remy

practically sprinted headlong into something with four corners, a cardboard coat, and a loud "plopping"

noise that accompanied its reaction to being bumped: a box of rat poison. Remy's mind instantly raced back to a

few days ago, when that daily newspaper article his father had browsed reported an incident of mystery and

suspicion: the fact that a rat had gotten "snapped" near Gusteau's! kitchen. Heaving a sigh, the

little cook left the "death box" in its gloomy residence beneath a set of looming pipes that slithered

and creeped down the backround wall like snakes.

"Well.....there's something we

won't be eating for dinner...,"
Remy thought to himself, disregarding the intimidating box

and its deadly contents. "Hey...uhh..."Rollie"? Remy called out to his wayward brother, the former

comrade taking care to sprint away from that box as fast as possible.

"Hmm?" his brother

responded, smiling as he looked up from chewing on a couple of discarded cookie crumbs.


don't...," he sighed, puzzled with his own question and deciding how best to present it, "You don't

think I'm an idiot.....do you?"

Emile stared at Remy, the latter bracing himself for the

answer. Not that he was really worried about what his brother would say; he'd asked his dad the exact same

question only a couple weeks ago, to which he had replied, "No, son. You're not an idiot. Of course you're

not an idiot! Just take off the first 'i' and replace the 'd' with an 'r' and then you'll get what you


"Well, you know what dad said, "Emile responded, indicating that he had

obviously been there to hear what his father had stated that day. Remy's ears drooped a little. "But I

think he's wrong," Emile uttered, still munching on a few loose cookie crumbs scattered around on the


Almost immediately, Remy's ears pricked back up again, his whiskers twitching.

"I think you're more like a..."

"Yes?" Remy pushed him.


alien." Emile swallowed the last of the oatmeal cookie crumbs in his mouth.

"A what?!"

"Well, just look at your fur color! And you are kind of skinny, dude. I mean, no offense."

Remy plucked at his fur, his ears now flattened again.

"Come on, where are those

ingredients anyway? I'm hungry!" Emile said impatiently, attempting to jump up onto the lid of a sleeping

tuna can and unsuccessfully plopping back down again, awaking the can from its slumber and causing it to fall

down on top of Emile. "I'm all right! I'm ok!" Emile called out from underneath the can, pushing the

heavy item off of him and patting his well-rounded belly.

"Heheh. Come on, let's go bake some

cookies, sergeant," Remy said, a gentle smile accompanying his half-closed eyes.

"But what

about pops? You know how much he hates it when you cook, and going near the two-footers..." (and by

"two-footers", Emile meant "humans"), "...won't make pop shut his mouth about the whole

thing any more than he'd stop eating garbage," said Emile, suddenly sounding nervous about the whole thing.

However, Remy simply turned 'round to face his pudgy, stubby-legged little brother in a confident

fashion, his eyes set and a wide grin pasted across his face. "To each his own, my dear brother. To each his


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Postby Maggie_PixarFan » Mon Apr 16, 2007 6:50 pm

Thanks for posting it! I've been waiting so long! :D :D :D
I'm gonna start reading it now! :wink:

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Postby lennonluvr9 » Mon Apr 16, 2007 10:35 pm

Interesting! I

kinda knew his dad would find out somehow. Although I surprised at how calm he was about it. I was half expecting

him to blow his top or something :wink: I wonder what Remy's padre will think of this little scheme...
"You would not believe what I've been through tonight!"

"That's what comes of teaching science by television" -Prof. Foot, Help!
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Postby Mitch » Tue Apr 17, 2007 3:31 am

Maggie - No problem! I hope

you like it. ;)

lennonluvr9 - Haha -- yeah, perhaps that chapter could have

used a little more work...actually. I really intended to included more action in it, but it just didn't seem to

work with the theme. I was feeling in a rather calm state when I was writing it...and didn't really feel like

including anything too exciting in that particular chapter.... But don't worry! It'll get action-packed in the

next chapter, which will be based on a part from the movie. ;)

I made Django calm and assertive due to

fact that Brad Bird said that he (Django) is the kind of guy who's like, "Gimme a hug", or something

like that. (snigger) So yeah -- he's not mad yet...but he will be later on.... :P

Thanks for reading! Any more comments are whole-heartedly welcome.
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Postby Fairly Odd New Yorker » Tue Apr 17, 2007 11:10 am

I'm going to try to read it again. =P I was reading it

when we got a call that we had a dentist appointment that day in a few hours (fillings, yay. =P) and now, I've

got to go to school in five minutes. So I'm takin' it to the limit! xD Too bad I woke up late, and this week

feels like it's taking forever.

So! I shall review once I've read. Luckily I'm typing fast! ^__^
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Postby Mitch » Tue Apr 17, 2007 3:41 pm

FONY - Oh yeah -- those wonderful dentist appointments.


Heheh -- take your time! I'm in no rush. ;)
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