The words
You Owe Me
Were branded clearly on poor Miltons letter.
He had accidentally burnt down the whole apartment building.
The ashes were scattered in a powdery black field behind the yellow police
tape wrapped clearly around the area. Milton glummly reread his letter from
the landlord. The corners of his mouth drooped... he was in trouble.
Dear Milton Meerca,
Due to recent incidents involving the fire that was undoubtedly caused in your
rented flat, I am writing to let you know, you owe me.
I expect at least 25,000 Neopoints in expenses to repair the building and dig
up a garden by the 29th day of Relaxing, Y4.
This, in my opinion, is very generous. Consider yourself lucky that I’m not
charging you for furniture, too.
I’m a very forgiving man.
Sincerely,
The Landlord.
Milton sighed. He’s never been able to come up with that kind of money!
A police man hobbled up to him on his thick orange flippers. His stomach flab
jiggled when he halted. Milton gulped, his eyes slowly traveled up from the
golden buttons, straining to keep the blue uniform jacket closed, to a sombre
face of a blue Bruce.
“H-hello officer,” Milton stuttered, rather intimidated by the policeman's
height and width.
The sound of distorted police radios and flashing red lights merely melted
into the backround when the Bruce finally cleared his throat and said “That
is Chief. I am Police Chief Simon; I’m just coming to take notes to find if
this fire was an accident or planned arson. Now, where were you when the fire
started, what time was it, when did you notice the fire, and where were you?”
“You’ve asked where I was two times in one sentence.” Milton blinked. Police
Chief Simon's face fell into a slight frown. Since when did a Meerca have the
authority to correct his sentences?
“Just answer the questions.” He muttered bluntly.
Milton took a deep breath in, and explained all about how he had fallen off
the balcony, and how he saw the smoke coming through the balcony door. Then
he clambered back up the rose fence to get to the tap in his kitchen , so he
could squirt out at least a few embers... at this, Milton had held up his cut
paws and took time to point out his snapped claws, that he received from vicious
thorny stems and evil lush red roses.
He explained how, when he reached the sink, his tail caught fire and he ran
off the balcony again. Then, when he regained consciouness, he tried the stop
drop and stroll trick. Police Chief Simon laughed heartily in the Meerca’s face.
“What!?” Milton snapped, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and anger.
Who did this guy think he was, laughing at his misfortune like that?
“It is stop drop and ROLL... geez, are you telling me that you stopped where
you were, dropped to the ground, then got up and walked around the block?”
“Yes. It didn’t seem to work well, though... the fire just grew bigger.”
Police Chief Simon went into hysterics. Tears started in his eyes as he slapped
a flipper onto Milton's head, leaning on him for support. Milton quivered under
the weight and fell flat on his back onto the sidewalk, and Police Chief Simon
began to fall. As if in slow motion, a giant sack of feathery blubber came flopping
down upon Milton, who squealed and quickly rolled off the stoney sidewalk to
avoid being crushed to death. The concrete grazed his back, and thumped annoyingly
on his singed tail.
But he didn’t stop there!
Milton curled up when he felt the road going downhill. This was not going
to stop soon. Milton teetered on the edge, and slowly began his imitation of
a tire spinning down a hill. Police Chief Simon heaved himself upward, his beak
slightly squashed. He waddled as fast as he could into his police car, and started
the siren. This guy had to be making a break for it!
The engine shuddered to life, and with a flash of blue paint, Police Chief
Simon began to chase the rolling Milton, determined to catch him, and take him
down to the station for more serious questioning.
Milton felt his stomach lurch at every speed bump. He dared not open his eyes,
for fear of losing his brunch. There was a crash, and Milton felt relieved when
he noticed he was no longer rolling. He was inside a nice, little cylinder-shaped
hole. It smelled funny, though…
Milton was reminded of the fish pop he had received for his birthday last
year. He tried to keep it for as long as he could, but soon he was forced to
throw it away, seeing it had begun to grow little green bumps around the slimy
face that stared at the ceiling of his fridge for over threemonths.
The police car drove past his hiding place, and Milton felt very relieved.
He leaned back, and he felt something grimy behind his ear. He squealed and
jolted, which caused him to bang his head on the squigey roof. He wasn’t in
a cave, he was in a trash-can!
He slipped on banana peels when he tried to scuttle out, but the more he tried,
the dirtier he got. The smell was awful by now; he ignored the sounds of traffic,
and ignored the fact the police were looking for him. He just needed to get
out before he caught some form of vulgar disease!
He felt the trash can being lifted. Breathing fast, he slowly began to relax
a bit. Someone must have seen him, and come along to help him out!
Milton slipped out into the bright light of day and landed on something soft.
After he blinked a few times, he saw he was somewhere ten times worse.
He should have known it was rubbish day.
He squealed some more as he began to sink in a truckload of garbage. He scrambled
up the sides of the metal truck, but this was unsucessful. Soon, Milton just
gave up, and sat there poutily waiting for the truck to stop.
The truck shuddered and stopped in its tracks. Milton peeked over the side,
and saw a large building, like a rectangular beehive with thousands of windows.
He clambered out, being careful of where he stepped. His once fluffy and yellow
fur was now a brown-like colour. Milton needed to use a bathroom, to wash the
bacteria that could posibly be swarming into his sore paws. He bounced to the
ground, and walked down the pavement to the front door. The truck positioned
itself and dumped the garbage onto a ship.
“Thank Mallards I got out of that in time!”
Milton thought as he gulped, picturing a much worse situation.
He tracked filth all over the shagpile carpet. He could hear a few flies as
they buzzed aound his little pink ears. He turned to avoid the stares of people,
and to enter the tall (and very heavily varnished) wooden door that was marked,
"Bathroom." That's when he saw a sign at reception.
The sign read, "Employees Wanted."
To be continued... | 
