After her usual evening exercises -- "Drop everything and give me ten...books!" -- Miss Snark had read her way through her favorites, still holding tightly to her gin, of course. Now she lay in her comfy bed, KY sharing her pillow and snoring. "Ah, another successful day," she murmured. She closed her eyes and fell into her favorite dream -- KY winning 'Best of Show' at the dog show full of promenading poodles. Miss Snark rolled over and tucked her hand beneath her cheek, a peaceful smile on her face --
WTF? She jumped out of bed, KY flying. A horrendous noise clamored outside. "Could that be alleycats?" she asked KY.
KY blinked and woofed.
They wrapped themselves in modest nightwear and rode the elevator down. The night watchman was listening to the radio, his feet propped on the desk, head back, mouth open. "Bat Segundo, Si, Si! Por favor, tengas un mas --"
Miss Snark clicked it off, and the man snorted before sitting up and staring at her. "Whassa matter?" he asked.
"There's something outside," she said.
"Okay, okay." He joined her, taking along his trusty flashlight. He rubbed his hand across his face. "The roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd," he muttered.
"What are you talking about?"
"And why are you limping?" Miss Snark asked, glaring at the large man.
"It's my bunions," he protested. "Too much time on my feet."
They made their way around the side of the building. His beam of light fell on a misty form. "What was that?" he asked in terror.
Miss Snark put her fists on her hips, disgusted. "A will of the wisp, maybe? It was the steam from the manhole, you...." But on second thought, she didn't finish that sentence, for the raucous noise had started up again.
The night watchman shook in his boots. Miss Snark, intrepid KY at her stiletto heels, tiptoed into the alley. "Scrawwwwahh!"
She jumped back.
"Is someone dying?" the watchman asked.
"No, I think it's cats."
Just then, approaching them through the mist, came a giant...terrapin? The watchman threw his flashlight at the animal, and ran for the building, screaming. The flashlight missed, of course.
The terrapin turned and looked at Miss Snark through his yellow eyes. "I need your help," he said.
"That galley cat stole my work."
"The galley cat?" she asked, tightening the belt on her robe. "What exactly is a galley cat?"
"You know, cats who take our galleys. He's hoping to cause a snark in my printing business -- oh, it's such a muddle!" And the turtle began to weep large tears.
"Okay then," said Miss Snark. "We're going back to bed. Too much gin swilling today, I think."
"No, you can't go," the turtle cried. "I need you! Your mother wears Army boots," he yelled, resorting to insults.
Miss Snark waved her red-nailed hand in the hair. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Come on, KY, we have dog shows to win."
Wait, Miss Snark SNORES???
DISQUALIFIED for a thought too horrible to contemplate!
Scoring to come (if Miss Snark recovers her equilibrium)