A Special OccasionMature

"Oh, Rowden! You bad wolf!" I licked my snout with my incredibly long tongue as I took out my sugar pouch. It was exactly that- a pouch filled with sugar. No one knew I had it, and I liked only to open it for special occasions.

"I must say what they say- everyday is an occasion." I opened the pouch with my gray paws and stared down at the pure white sparkly grains.

I reached in the bag and grabbed a tiny pinch in my paw. I held it up, but just as Iwas about to drop it in my specially-made Boiled Berry stew, someone tapped me on the right shoulder and I jumped so high my sugar flew all across the table.

Without looking behind me to see who the culpret was, I jumped on the table and tried gathering the fallen sugar grains. As I grouped the sugar together I heard giggling in front of me. I looked up to find Fuss laughing at my misfortune. But his laughter stopped when his eyes found the bag of sugar.

"What's in the bag, Rowden?" The words slipped off of his tongue mysteriously as I leaped to close the pouch.

"Uh, it's... salt. Just salt." I answered as I gently pulled velvet ropes closed. I gave a silent sigh of relief.

"A bag of salt? Salt? Rowden, please tell me you do not have a bag of salt. Just don't." He ended his sentence there and started forward, probably beginning one of his daily strolls.

My ears pricked up at a particular sound. They twitched, so I sniffed around me. I could smell something salty, which probably meant tears were being cried somewhere. Before Fuss could get far, I quickly trotted over to him to ask him something.

"What is that smell I smell, dear Fuss? And more importantly, what is that sound I hear?" The small man stopped and twisted his finger in his fluffy white mustache before answering.

"I believe that is Mr. Parkinson. When I was in his world, he was competing in some kind of contest where the kids have to spell words. Something close to a waste of time if you ask me. Anyways, he followed me all the way to Fusspot, I am afraid to say. A stubborn, stubborn boy."

With that he resumed his stroll. But instead of following him, I quickly made up my mind and went the opposite way. When I passed the table that had my stew on it, I consumed the berry flavored soup and grabbed the velvet pouch in my mouth. This was a special occasion indeed.

The End

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