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| Youngblood, "A Cousin Comes Calling" 3 �Why, cousin!� cried Tennyson, �you wouldn�t want to live the pampered life of a dormouse like me! It�s quite boring, for one thing.� �Boring?� said Gorey. �I can�t imagine sitting in that gilt cage and eating filberts all day would ever bore me.� �But see, there you�re wrong!� said Tennyson. �The filberts are always the same! Always smooth and delicious and crunchy! There is never any variation whatsoever. And the little girl who feeds me is always shoving them into my mouth or poking me in the nose. Ghastly, I tell you. But you! You have endless variety in your slops and scraps and half-molded rinds of cheese and soggy crusts of bread, and you have the excitement of having to physically battle greater vermin for them. I? Only get to sit on this cushion all day. It�s dreadful, I tell you.� �Really?� Gorey pondered this for a moment. �I hadn�t thought of it that way before.� �Oh, but you should! Variety is the spice of life! And I, sadly� (Tennyson�s dainty paw here brushed away a tiny tear) �have none.� �Oh, my poor cousin!� cried Gorey. �How selfish I am! And here I was begging to come live with you! You should come back with me to the Crumpleshanks� shack!� �Oh, no, no, no. No! You see, dearest cousin, the workings of the world depend on each of us doing our part. If I were not in my gilded cage, who would keep little Eustacia Montmorency company when she comes home from Miss Minchin�s Fine Academy for Fine Ladies? And if you were not crouching under the broken dresser in the Crumpleshanks� shack, who would clean the crumbs and gristle from the floor? Mrs. Crumpleshanks wouldn�t do it�you know she drinks too much gin, she�s unconscious most of the time anyway.� �That�s true!� cried Gorey, his face brightening. �And then think of what a sad, unkempt house the Crumpleshanks children would come home to after a long day at the arsenic factory. Really, you�re all that�s keeping that house together, dear cousin. If they didn�t have you, their beloved garbage rat, to play with, what manner of pet could those poor children possibly afford? And how would Mr. Crumpleshanks make any money mudlarking in the Thames if you were not there to lead him straight to the bodies of unfortunate souls who end up at its bottom, and thus provide him with clothes and personal effects to sell secondhand?� �Cousin,� said Gorey firmly, �you have done me a great service today. To each his own place in the world. Your lot is as difficult as mine�why, think of all the places and the people I get to see everyday! The streetwalkers in Covent Garden! The workhouse! Debtor�s prison even, just last month!� �Cousin,� said Tennyson, holding a delicate paw to his forehead, �please do not remind me of the sadness of my lot.� �I am so sorry,� Gorey said quickly. �But you are so very right, you know. What a wonderful new outlook on life you have given me!� Tennyson nodded wisely. �You see?� he said. �What a difference it makes to count our blessings and refrain from coveting what others have!� |