Posh Rat Short Story & Audiobook Series: Episode 5 - A Mole in One

A Mole in One

In the study of the Twitch Mansion, I strapped a new pair of  goggles onto the head of Reginald “Posh Rat” Twitch.

“When these goggles are finished, they’ll allow you to see in the dark better than any other rat,” I said. Poshy looked around the room through the goggles. 

“Another fine PinkerTech™ gadget in the making, dear Barnes. Brilliant work.” My pink fur hid my blushing cheeks. 

The Twitch family’s butler knocked on the open study door. *Knock, knock* 

“Come in, Herman,” Poshy said. The thin butler wore a very large bow tie. “There is news of trouble at the Whiskersmith tube station.”

Poshy’s whiskers wiggled. Herman continued, “The police are downstairs. They have caught someone messing with the station’s ticket machines.” 

Poshy went downstairs. There were two rat policemen holding onto a short figure. The man was wearing an argyle coat and polka dot trousers. Dull claws and grey, furry hands stuck out of his sleeves.

One police rat spoke. “Mr Twitch, sir, this rat here was caught putting tiny pancakes into all the slots of the ticket machines. Passengers cannot buy tickets because the slots are now filled with pancake.” 

Poshy raised an eyebrow and asked the short rat, “What’s the meaning of this, sir?”

“Tiny pancakes, tiny pancakes,” the short, nervous rat repeated.  Then he raised his head. He had dark, grey fur and tiny slits for eyes. 

“He’s a mole, not a rat!” I whispered. “How interesting.” We didn’t see many of them in this neighbourhood. 

“I promise it was an accident, an accident,” the mole explained. “I grabbed my bag of tiny pancakes this morning, instead of cheese coins. It’s my darned eyes, darned eyes.” He looked in Poshy’s direction. It’s a shame the mole couldn’t really see Poshy’s handsome whiskers. 

“Well, I could ask why someone keeps tiny pancakes in a bag,” Posh Rat said. “But instead, I  must insist you are sent to jail.” 

“Oh, not jail, not jail!” The mole shook, tears coming from his tiny eyes. He really did seem harmless. 

This gave me an idea. I whispered into Poshy’s ear. “You know, Poshy, he reminds me of a certain rat-in-need you once rescued from a laboratory cage.” 

“Oh, Mr Barnes, you? You were different. We can’t bring this...mole into the mansion.” 

“Just for a while. His eye trouble is exactly what I need to test my night-sight goggles. I might even help him see better as well.”

So, indeed, we took in the mole named Barnaby Raisin. 

A week went by. Our work was going well.

“The goggles are too tight, too tight,” Barnaby Raisin said to me. He sat in the study wearing large goggles. “But I can see more than I could yesterday, yesterday.”

Poshy and his father, Finnicus Twitch, stood together just outside the study.

“Herman says that some of our precious, old vases are gone and have been replaced...by cheap fakes,” said Finnicus. “Moles are sneaky creatures and you can’t trust them. They get up to who-knows-what!”

“Father, you must trust me,” said Poshy. He nervously fiddled with one of his white gloves. “I assure you: Mr Raisin is harmless.”

“Remember, Reginald,” Finnicus said through his long teeth, “who you choose to bring into this house...has an effect on all of us.” 

“Father, it’s my house as well,” Poshy said. “Certainly, I have some say as to who I bring into it.” 

Father Twitch sneered, huffed and clicked his cane loudly on the floor, *CLACK-CLACK!* Then he walked away.

So, another week’s worth of testing went on. The mole could see quite clearly with my PinkerTech™ goggles. Barnaby Raisin saw his own reflection in the mirror. 

“Dear heavens! I can see, can see! My argyle jacket clashes with these polka dot trousers, polka dot trousers!” 

That’s when Father Finnicus Twitch came back again.

“We have a thief in our midst!” Father Twitch stood at the doorway with Herman the butler. “A thief!”

“What do you mean, Father?”

“Look!” Finnicus held up a vase. “This vase is a fake! The mole has been stealing our real vases and replacing them with wooden fakes!” 

The butler held up a precious, old vase. He pulled off his white glove and tapped it with his claw.

*tack-tack*
“It’s wood! Not the real thing,” Finnicus said. He stood in the doorway of the study. There were footsteps in the hallway. Finnicus had brought the rat police.

“That’s the thief! Barnaby Raisin!” Finnicus yelled and pointed his cane. “Grab him!”

The police rushed in and took Barnaby Raisin by the shoulders. They began to walk him out of the study.

“It wasn’t me, wasn’t me,” the mole whimpered.

“He’s telling the truth!” Posh Rat yelled. The police paused at the doorway. Poshy’s father tapped his cane on the floor. *CLACK!*

”Why must you insist on standing up for this...mole?” Finnicus asked.

“I take responsibility,” I said. “My testing— ”

“No, Barnes,” Poshy said as he stepped forward. “Father, it was me. I am to blame.” 

“What on Earth are you talking about, Reginald?” Finnicus said as he squinted at Poshy. 

“I approved Barnes to develop his new goggles. There were many eyesight tests, and well...things got broken.” Poshy continued, “Vases were bumped. Some fell. I had copies created to replace the items.”

“You made the fakes?” Finnicus Twitch huffed and clacked his cane. *CLACK!* 

“Release the mole,” Finnicus said to the police. “It seems this is a family matter.”

“Thank you, Father,” Poshy said. “You see, these goggles actually work now. They may actually help ratkind see better in the dark. I thought that was worth some old vases.”

“We’d like to keep Mr Raisin around as well,” I said. “The mole is a great assistant for me. He can help me test all the new PinkerTech™ gadgets.” 

“Grrrr,” Finnicus Twitch grumbled and walked out. 

Poshy put his paw on Barnaby Raisin’s shoulder and gave him a charming wink. “The mole also makes the most delicious tiny pancakes!”

The End