Namath Walker == Part One, Chapter One

Story by Care A Lot on SoFurry

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All rights to "The Secret of NIMH" belong to the creators of the original story, which is Robert C. O' Brien, and, following, Don Bluth.


"Well, children, now you've all gone, and done it," sighed Mrs. Jonathan Brisby, as Auntie Shrew left, in a justifiable tizzy. "Auntie Shrew is our friend."

"Auntie Shrew is a ---", began Martin, thirteen years old, and full of pompous anger, and spunk.

"Be quiet, Martin. Now I will not have you causing any more discord in this house. Timothy is sick."

*

Outside, a man, white of skin, long gray hair, piercing steel gray eyes, and a superior ability to whisper with most animals, overheard the conversation going on beneath in the stone near the garden hedge. Timothy was sick, and from other information gathered, pneumonia was the problem. Pneumonia was not the Brisby's solo problem, however; Moving Day was coming, and with it, the tractor, and the need to move their cinder block before the tractor would pass over them, sooner than later, he presumed.

Namath Walker was a traveler of the earth and a traveler of the earth indeed for many, many days. For how many days, no one did not quite know, but if I were to make a guess, at least 20,000 years long, give or take more or less. Namath had been all over the world, and still he did not know everything, or nor did he care to. Truth be told, Mr. Namath Walker felt it was best to know less; that the ability to keep his mind vacant of trivial knowledge, and carnal wisdom, gave more space to feel with the heart.

Now, the gray haired man used his saved energy, which was in place of his lack of trivial intellect, and believed him to be small, and, quite mouse like. Thus, did he create himself to be quite perfect the size to walk through the opening of the cinder block, and make his entrance, following a knock.

Wishes to the Night

After a long night on the night shift, I lie in bed with you, my lover companion, my Mrs. Brisby, and I hold you, with my dry human hands on your furred hips, and I whisper sweet romantic thoughts into your pointed ears. The crickets sing through...

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Poco -- A True Story

This all went down sometime when I was going to high school in a northeastern part of Florida. I was seventeen, or eighteen, and had not yet met the influential alcohol, or drugs, part of my life yet. I was lucky. I knew that alcohol, and drugs, were...

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In Response

Before I say "I do", there's something you need to do. Grow up. Quit messing around with these drugs, and liquor bottles, and indecision with whether or not to drop drama at work, and get with it, Andy. For all things around, you are sensitive,...

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