Les Poissons (Ludwig Von Drake version)

Inside the dining room, Fievel was standing near the window, looking out into the distance. While Basil was seated at the large table, beginning to clean his pipe, Fievel was waiting patiently for Olivia to arrive as he tried desperately to reason with the Russian-Jewish boy mouse.

"Oh, Fievel, be reasonable," said Basil, feeling clearly amused while waving his pipe in the air. "Nice young ladies just don't - swim around rescuing people in the middle of the ocean and then - flutter off into oblivion, like some -"

Fievel cut him off. "I'm telling you, Basil, she was REAL!" he said, "I am gonna find that girl. And I am gonna marry her." He put his left hand over his chin, gazing out the glass windows.

Suddenly, laughter was heard from behind him. He turned his head to see the lover with the maid.

"Come on, honey." said a voice, "Don't be shy."

It was Mrs. Judson. She stood by the door frame, guiding the lover into the dining room.

Out of the shadows came Olivia.

Olivia was now wearing a frilly mint-turquoise dress with a matching garden-style hat, periwinkle-blue bloomers, matching shoes, and a necklace.

This was a new look for Olivia, and she showed that she was being treated well by the servants.

Fievel eyes widened as Basil walked up behind the Russian-Jewish boy mouse.

"Oh, Fievel, isn't she a vision?" asked Basil.

The grin he had was never slipping off his face. Fievel's mouth hung open. But he closed his mouths and swallowed, feeling somewhat nervous.

"You look - wonderful." Fievel stammered.

Olivia, unable to say, "Thank you," replied with a gentle blush, she shrugged her shoulders, appreciating the nice comment, a smile on her face as her brown eyes looked up to him from behind her hat.

Fievel blushed a light pink as Basil helped Fievel into his chair, quite enthusiastic, but not before giving the young princess a light nudge. Fievel pursed his lips, but grinned nonetheless.

"Come come come, you must be famished. Let me help you my dear. There we go - ah - quite comfy?"

He helped the Scottish-British girl mouse into her seat. Fievel tucked the chair under the table as the girl sat down.

"Uh, it's...it's not ofen that we have such a lovely dinner guest, eh, Fievel?"

Olivia wasn't playing attention anymore. She was too intrigued by the glistening silver 'dinglehopper' resting on the table. With a wide smile, she picked up the shiny object, took off her hat, and began brushing her fur-hair with it. She looked up to face a confused Fievel and a horrified Basil. Olivia delicately placed the 'dinglehopper' back on the table, put her hat back on her head, and looked down in embarrassment.

She bit her lip and looked up as she saw Basil using a lighter to ignite the coppery thing that Olivia understood as a 'snarfblatt'. Basil kindly smiled at her, and handed her his pipe. "Uh, do you like it?" he asked, "It *is* a rather fine..."

Baisl stopped in mid-sentence when the Scottish-British girl mouse blew into the pipe as if it was a trumpet, sending a cloud of smoke spurting out the top and straight into his face. Fievel cracked up with laughter while Mrs. Judson gave a small giggle. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed.

Fievel cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. "Ahem. I'm sorry, Basil."

Mrs. Judson smiled, placing a hand on the male Russian-Jewish boy mouse's shoulder. "Why, Fievel," she said. "That's the first time I've seen you smile in weeks."

Olivia looked up from the table and smiled. "Oh, very amusing," said Basil, as he used a handkerchief to wipe the last bit of smoke of his face and sniffed. "Mrs. Judson, my dear, what's for dinner?"

"Oooh, you're gonna love it!" Mrs. Judson smiled. "Chef's been fixing his specialty, stuffed circus mouse!"

Timothy poked his head out from behind a sugar bowl and gasped upon seeing the chef of a French kitchen. He was a slender white duck with a bit of fluff on each cheek, a yellow beak, and webbed-feet. He wears a white dress shirt, a black tie, a white coat, waistband, a pair of glasses, a white chef's hat, and a matching apron. His name was Ludwig Von Drake, the French chef of the kitchen. Drake rummaged through a cupboard. Singing in French to himself, he hummed to himself as he took a basket of trout and putting one on a counter. With his food ready, the old duck chef started singing.

Ludwig Von Drake: ***Les poissons***
***Les poissons***
*How I love **les poissons***
*Love to chop*
*And to serve little fish*

Grabbing the trout from the basket, Drake pulled out a cleaver and violently chopped off its head. This shocked Timothy horribly. Horrified that this was happening, Timothy hid his face.

Drake: *First I cut off their heads*
*Then I pull out the bones*
***Ah mais oui***
***Ca c'est toujours delish***

Taking out another trout, Drake took the cleaver and violently chopped off its head then proceeded to skin it and gut it while Timothy leaned against a wall and covered his mouth, feeling quite sick, feeling as if he may want to throw up.

Drake: ***Les poissons***
***Les poissons***
***Hee hee hee***
***Hah hah hah***
*With the cleaver I hack them in two*

Taking out another trout, Drake again chopped its head and then chopped the rest of the body into tiny pieces. Timothy tried getting away, but he found himself face to face with the trout's head.

Drake: *I pull out what's inside*
*And I serve it up fried*
'*Cause I love little fishes*
*Don't you?*

After cutting the trout's head off, Drake pulled out the insides of the trout and cooked it on a frying pan before serving it on a plate.

Spotting a large lettuce leaf, Timothy grabbed the leaf and used it to disguise himself as he slowly scuttled away from an unsuspecting chef, who is too absorbed into his little *fish hacking mania* but Drake took a mallet and began smashing a tuna flat.

Drake: *Here's something for tempting the palate*
*Prepared in the classic technique*
*First you pound the fish flat with a mallet*

When Drake pounded the tuna flat with the mallet, Timothy flew off the counter along with other stuff on it. He hid again under the lettuce before hearing more gross stuff from Drake's preparations for the tuna.

Drake: *Then you slash through the skin*
*Give the belly a slice*
*Then you rub some salt in*
'*Cause that makes it taste nice*

When Drake was describing those horrid moves, Timothy cringed even more.

Just after Drake put the salt on he rather was holding the fish body close to his cheek, Timothy worst fear was confirmed when the cook reached out and grabbed the lettuce leaf, leaving him exposed. The small circus mouse kept perfectly still as the chef gasped,

"*Zut alors*!" exclaimed Drake, "I have missed one!" He picked up the 'dead' mouse and continued singing,

Drake: ***Sacre bleu***
*What is this?*
*How on earth could I miss*
*Such a sweet little succulent mouse?*
***Quel dommage***
*What a loss*
*Here we go*
*In the sauce*
*Now some flour*
*I think just a spurt*

Drake tossed Timothy into a bowl of sauce and threw a spot of flour in his face, making him cough and sneeze before pulling him out and stuffing some breadcrumbs in his mouth.

Drake: *Now I stuff you with bread*
*It don't hurt 'cause you're dead*
*And you're certainly lucky you are*

Timothy spat out the breadcrumbs and wheezed loudly. Drake didn't notice that the mouse in his hand was still alive.

Drake: '*Cause it's gonna be hot*
*In my big silver pot*
*Toodle loo*
***Mon poisson***
***Au revoir!***

Drake threw Timothy across the room into a large pot of boiling water. Timothy held on to the inside of the pot before a bubble popped, burning him out of the pot and onto the counter with a loud thud.

Drake, hearing the 'thud', looked over to it being confused. He used a pitchfork-like utensil and stabs on either side of the mouse, picking up Timothy and carefully inspected it. "What is this?" he asked. Timothy bit Drake's beak, making him scream in pain as he held his beak.

Timothy landed on the handle of a pan on the stove. Drake reached for the parrot, but instead put his hand on the fiery hot stove. The chef screamed and blew on his hand as the pan fell onto his webbed-foot. Drake grabbed his webbed-foot and cried in pain, before sending Timothy an angry glare, grabbing a bunch of knives and hurling them at the circus mouse.

Timothy, who ducked each knife, dove under the counter, and while the chef was looking under the counter, Timothy pushed the bowl of sauce off the counter. The bowl shattered on his head. Going more insane, Drake lifted his cleaver and brought it down. But all he managed to chop up was the counter.

He saw Timothy running for his life. Timothy screamed as he tried getting out. The cleaver landed right in front of him, stopping him from running that way. He quickly made a mad dash underneath Drake and hid underneath a cabinet of glasses and pottery. Drake screamed, holding his mallet in his hand, Timothy hid as the psychotic chef jumped and crashed into the shelves.

Back in the dining room, everyone heard loud crashes coming from the kitchen.

Mrs. Judson, who was pouring drinks for the prince, Basil, and their young guest, looked in the direction of the kitchen at the sound of a large crash. "I think I'd better go see what Drake is up to." she said. Once she had excused herself, she hurriedly made her way to the palace kitchen.

Back in the kitchen, the insane chef, ripped clothes and all, was tearing apart the cabinet, mindlessly throwing things out of the way trying to find Timothy. "Come out, you little pipsqueak, AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!" he snarled. He continued to tear apart a cupboard.

"Drake!" shouted Mrs. Judson.

He shot up, banging his head on the shelf, causing several new pots and pans to fall or break on the floor, at the sound of Mrs. Judson's shrill voice. His coat and apron were torn and stained, his chef's hat was gone, and there was a hole in the elbow of his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Judson demanded.

Drake stammered about what he was doing earlier. "Well - I - I was just - er, er, I'm sorry, *madame*." he finally said. Mrs. Judson scowled at the duck as he gave her an apologetic grin and pinched out a fire that had started on his feathery cheek.

Mrs. Judson picked up the plates - which all had a metal dome over the top - off a nearby bench, and storming out the kitchen.

Basil set his glass back on the table as the Mrs. Judson placed their dinners in front of him, Olivia, and Fievel. "You know, Fievel," he said. "perhaps our young guest might enjoy seeing some of the sights of the kingdom. Something in the way of a tour?"

Fievel simply sat there, staring at Olivia with a lovestruck expression on his face. Realizing that Basil had said something to them, they snapped out of their daze. Fievel let out a small chuckle and looked at Basil. "I'm sorry, Basil." he said, "What was that?"

Basil leaned over to the Russian-Jewish boy mouse and whispered, "You can't spend all your time moping about, you need to get out. Do something, have a life. Get your mind off-"

As Basil complained, he opened his dish, and Timothy was huddled inside. Olivia noticed Iago and became worried. Timothy quietly shushed the worried Scottish-British girl mouse, who opened her dish and urged for Timothy to quickly hide in hers.

"Easy, Basil, easy." said Fievel, "It's not a bad idea. If she's interested."

As the two chatted, Timothy quickly and quietly dashed across the table and hid in Olivia's dish. With Timothy safe, Olivia quickly turned to Fievel.

"Well, what do you say?" asked Fievel. "Would you like to join me on a tour of my kingdom tomorrow?"

Olivia nodded, genuinely excited by the prospect and also internally relieved.

"Wonderful!" beamed Basil. "Now let's eat, before this mouse wanders off my plate." He looked down, only to be confused that Timothy had just run off his plate.

Dinner got carried on into the evening long after the sun had set and afterwards, Olivia, Fievel, and Basil went their separate ways.

Olivia was now dressed in her nightclothes as she watched Fievel play with Pal from the balcony.

Olivia was now wearing baby blue footy pajamas with a matching hair-bow.

"Come here boy!" Fievel laughed to Pal, "Arrr!!!" He knelt on the ground and Pal ran up to him and growled. Fievel playfully growled back at the dog as he pinned Fievel down. He looked up and smiled when they saw that the girl he'd found on the beach that day, watching. Fievel waved at Olivia, and she waved back, before slipping further back into her room. Fievel's eyes sparkled as his smile widened. He was actually really looking forward to taking her around his kingdom tomorrow, and could only hope he they felt the same way.

Olivia smiled as she brushed her fur-hair with her fork before putting her hair-bow back behind her ear. Timothy (who was now wearing a red long-sleeved pajama jacket with buttons and white stripes and matching pajama pants) complained about his experience in the kitchen as he cleaned off the cooking spices. "This has got to be, without a doubt, the single most humiliating day of my life." he complained.

Olivia patted Timothy on the head.

"I hope you appreciate what I go through for you, young lady!" scolded the circus mouse, as he waved his lettuce leaf at Olivia while she walked over to her bed.

Olivia's bed was a large canopy bed with sky-blue mattresses & matching bedsheets & pillows, large baby-blue curtains (with golden draw-tassels) on all four sides (attached to the blue canopy), baby-blue blankets, white linens, a warm, fuzzy, blue blanket, & blue mahogany bedposts (with a headboard of the same color & material).

Anyway, Timothy told Olivia, "Now, we've got to make a plan to get that mouse to kiss you."

She opened the curtains and bounced a little before settling back into the large pillow on the left side of the canopy bed and crawled under the covers.

"Tomorrow, when he takes you for that ride, you gotta look your best." said Timothy.

Olivia lay in her bed. It was very comfy and warm. It was a nice place for her to sleep for the night.

"You're gonna bat your eyes - like this," Timothy went on, as he batted his eyes and puckered his lips. "You gotta pucker up your lips - like this."

But by now, he realized that Olivia was already fast asleep. Timothy shook his head and smiled. "Hm." He blew out the candle on the bed side table. He hopped onto one of Olivia's pillows, closed the curtains, and, before falling asleep himself, he said, "You are hopeless, child. You know that?" He yawned and closed his eyes as Olivia covered him up with her blue blanket. "Completely hopeless."

And with that, Olivia and Timothy fell asleep for the night.