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The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents

Titel: The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents
Autoren: Terry Pratchett
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for people like us. Not for us.' He sighed. 'If there's a wonderful island anywhere, it's here. But I'm not intending to dance.'
    'Figure of speech, boss, figure of speech,' said Sardines, hopping from one foot to the other.
    There was a thump from the other end of the table. The mayor had hit it with his fist. 'We've got to be practical !' he was saying. 'How much worse off can we be? They can talk . I'm not going to go all through this again, understand? We've got food, we've got a lot of the money back, we survived the piper… these are lucky rats…'
    The figures of Keith and Malicia loomed over the rats.
    'It sounds as if my father's coming round to the idea,' said Malicia. 'What about you?'
    'Discussions are continuing,' said Maurice.
    'I… er… I'm sorr… er… look, Maurice told me where to look and I found this in the tunnel,' said Malicia. The pages were stuck together, and they were all stained, and they had been sewn together by a very impatient person, but it was still recognizable as Mr Bunnsy Has An Adventure . 'I had to lift up a lot of drain gratings to find all the pages,' she said.
    The rats looked at it. Then they looked at Dangerous Beans.
    'It's Mr Bunn -' Peaches began.
    'I know. I can smell it,' said Dangerous Beans.
    The rats all looked again at the remains of the book.
    'It's a lie,' said Peaches.
    'Maybe it's just a pretty story,' said Sardines.
    'Yes,' said Dangerous Beans. 'Yes.' He turned his misty pink eyes to Darktan, who had to stop himself from crouching, and added: 'Perhaps it's a map.'
    If it was a story, and not real life, then humans and rats would have shaken hands and gone on into a bright new future.
    But since it was real life, there had to be a contract. A war that had been going on since people first lived in houses could not end with just a happy smile. And there had to be a committee. There was so much detail to be discussed. The town council were on it, and most of the senior rats, and Maurice marched up and down the table, joining in.
    Darktan sat at one end. He really wanted to sleep. His wound ached, his teeth ached, and he hadn't eaten for ages. For hours the argument flowed back and forwards over his drooping head. He didn't pay attention to who was doing the talking. Most of the time, it seemed to be everyone.
    'Next item: compulsory bells on all cats. Agreed?'
    'Can we just get back to clause thirty, Mr, er, Maurice? You were saying killing a rat would be murder?'
    'Yes. Of course.'
    'But it's just-'
    'Talk to the paw, mister, 'cos the whiskers don't want to know!'
    'The cat is right,' said the mayor. 'You're out of order, Mr Raufman! We've been through this.'
    'Then what about if a rat steals from me?'
    'Ahem. Then that'll be theft, and the rat will have to go before the justices.'
    'Oh, young-?' said Raufman.
    'Peaches. I'm a rat, sir.'
    'And… er… and the Watch officers will be able to get down the rat tunnels, will they?'
    'Yes! Because there will be rat officers in the Watch. There'll have to be,' said Maurice. 'No problem!'
    'Really? And what does Sergeant Doppelpunkt think about that? Sergeant Doppelpunkt?'
    'Er… dunno, sir. Could be all right, I suppose. I know I couldn't get down a rat hole. We'll have to make the badges smaller, of course.'
    'But surely you wouldn't suggest a rat officer could be allowed to arrest a human?'
    'Oh, yes, sir,' said the sergeant.
    'What?'
    'Well, if your rat's a proper sworn-in watchman… I mean, a watchrat… then you can't go around saying you're not allowed to arrest anyone bigger than you, can you? Could be useful, a rat watchman. I understand they have this trick where they run up your trouser leg-'
    'Gentlemen, we should move on. I suggest this one goes to the sub-committee.'
    'Which one, sir? We've already got seventeen!'
    There was a snort from one of the councillors. This was Mr Schlummer, who was 95 and had been peacefully asleep all morning. The snort meant that he was waking up.
    He stared at the other side of the table. His whiskers moved.
    'There's a rat there!' he said, pointing. 'Look, mm, bold as brass! A rat! In a hat !'
    'Yes, sir. This is a meeting to talk to the rats, sir,' said the person beside him.
    He looked down and fumbled for his glasses. 'Wassat?' he said. He looked closer. 'Here,' he said, 'aren't, mm, you a rat, too?'
    'Yes, sir. Name of Nourishing, sir. We're here to talk to humans. To stop all the trouble.'
    Mr Schlummer stared at the rat. Then he looked across the table at
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