“Mama?” a scared, little voice called.
Phezznibbet Maplebark’s ears twitched, his paw closing around the bottom knife in his bandolier. He poked his head around the slimy dumpster that hid him. At the front of the alleyway stood a figure not much smaller than himself. It didn’t appear threatening, so he took a few
“Get your filthy hide out of here!” The broom came dangerously close to shortening me by a tail. I dove underneath the table, but I still felt the tickle of its straw.
Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I was getting attacked by someone with a weapon of mass cleaning. It’s kind of a
“Tell us a story, Gwandpa!”
The old man smiled at the two curly-haired kids, Adley and Bianca, on the floor in front of him, a pipe clasped between his fingers. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”
“Tell us another story
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