As much as Mr. Reciprocity doesn’t want to admit it, his brother is correct. Clues will help them get back home, and this paper is most certainly a clue.
It’s completely white and very modern looking. A picture has been printed out on it, but the image is fractured and difficult to make out. The colors are mostly monochrome. There’s a single line of text beneath it.
Mr. Reciprocity squints at it. “My vision’s too poor, brother. Can you tell what that says?”
Mr. Protection squints, too. After a moment, he announces, “I believe I can, brother. I believe this here piece of paper is telling us that we’re in the same time as Old George.”
“Washington?”
“The one and only,” answers Mr. Protection. He plants a clawed paw on the piece of paper. “That’s what this is talking about. And that means we have a list of right suspects!”
“Missing pets,” corrects Mr. Reciprocity. And then, “but you’re right, brother. Old George had a right slew of pets, but it’s a smaller slew than every pet.”
“We can cross out the horses,” says Mr. Protection. “On account’a that collar we found.”
Mr. Reciprocity nods. “Cross out the parrot, too.”
“And the donkey! A shame, Royal Gift’s a right sweet thing.”
“We aren’t here for sweet things,” says Mr. Reciprocity. He shakes himself off, crawling out from under the desk. It doesn’t look like the room’s changed at all. “We’re here for work. Now, brother, who does that leave?”
“The foxhounds,” says Mr. Protection, following his brother back into the room proper. “Sweetlips, Scentwell, and Vulcan.”
Mr. Reciprocity nods. He starts the very long trek towards the door. “Leaves the coonhounds, too. Four of them, aren’t there?”
Mr. Protection lists off, “Drunkard, Taster, Tipler, and Tipsy!”
“And then it’s just Cornwallis,” says Mr. Reciprocity. He makes it three steps before freezing. The two opossum brothers come to the same answer at the same time.
Together, they exclaim, “Cornwallis!”
Mr. Reciprocity shakes his head, hard. “It can’t be!”
But Mr. Protection is already waddling, fast as he can, towards the door. “Leather collar, and we should’ve known! Hurry, brother! We haven’t a moment left to lose on resting! Not if it’s Cornwallis at stake! Without him, oh, what a mess! What a mess!”
Mr. Reciprocity hurries too, because he knows his brother is right.
Cornwallis is one of the founding members of the Presidential Pets.
Without him around, who knows what will happen? And so they rush, rush, rush across the room. This time, when they get to the door, Mr. Reciprocity loudly demands, “you take us to Cornwallis.”
There’s no verbal answer, of course, because it’s just a door.
Still, when they squeeze through to the other side, it’s finally, finally taken them somewhere different.
Katelynn E Koontz – Author
