There was no sign of Yvonne anywhere. Angelica, with the help of Savio, looked in all twenty-five of Yvonne's secret offices, and even discovered a secret underground tunnel, but Yvonne was not there. They looked under the sofa. Not there. They looked inside the television. Not there. They looked in each and every book in the house. Not in any of them, nor under them, either.
Angelica and Savio had just about given up on their search when a small, fluffy white rabbit hopped into the house as if he owned the place.
"Hi dere! I'm back for a visit!" said Snowball. "Hey, you know, I love what ya done wid da place. Dat dinosaur skeleton out dere is a real nice touch."
"Not you again!" exclaimed Angelica. Savio said nothing. He sat staring and panting, and that said it all.
"What? You got a problem with me? 'Cause I don't got a problem with me," said Snowball. "This Story Tuesday or something? No, gotta think of a better name than that, you know. Anyway, you want a story? You can't have one. 'Cause I don't have one."
"Then at least tell us where Yvonne is," grumbled Angelica.
"Oh yeah? Nah, dat's okay. I'll pass," he said, looking through the refrigerator. Then he suddenly screamed, "Instead I'll tell you a story!" and he threw himself on the sofa so that it slid at least five feet back. Angelica looked perplexed or, perhaps, entirely bewildered. Snowball relished in that sort of look, which he was well acquainted with.
"You! Dog! Fan me!" demanded Snowball. Savio obeyed as best he could, picking up a leaf in his teeth and fanning Snowball with it. The action really did nothing, but Snowball liked to see other creatures adoring him.
"So..." began Snowball...
Savio never really learned, so when Angelica demanded that he tell her where Yvonne was, he immediately told her the location of Yvonne's newest secret office. With extreme gusto Angelica exploded into said secret office. Instead of springing up and yelling at her for being there, Yvonne snored. She was sleeping face down on her desk.
It was a nice desk. But Angelica had very little regard for nice desks.
She produced, almost magically, a foghorn out of nowhere. The sound of it made Yvonne leap up until she almost hit her head on the ceiling (which was nice, like the desk). Once she had recovered and remembered where, and who, she was, that was when she sprang up and yelled at Angelica for being there.
Angelica paid her no heed. All she heard were the ramblings of a nagging old rabbit. "Aren't you going to tell us a story?" asked Angelica accusingly. "Yesterday you told us you were going to tell us a story every Tuesday. Well... where's my story?"
Yvonne could hardly believe her fluffy white bunny ears. Angelica did not let her reply. "I tell you what, you aren't telling me any story today," declared Angelica. "No, I'm gonna tell you a story today!"
Allowing no delays, she jumped right into it.
Yvonne came bursting into the house, flinging open the door so hard that it nearly fell, or rather, flew, off its hinges. A cape swishing behind her and a sword at her side, she marched into the living room and announced her presence in a loud, archaic voice.
Many emotions spread over young Angelica's face: surprise, terror, distaste, etc. Only one was on Savio's face: joy.
When Yvonne first exploded loudly into the house, Angelica had dropped her book on the floor. Now Yvonne picked it up carefully and examined it. "Fie!" she exclaimed in the same booming voice. "Hast thou again passed thine eyes over the multitudinous villainies of this wretched scroll, christened the 'Adventures of Harey Bunther'? For shame!"
All Angelica could do in reply was correct her. "Harey Butter."
With a dramatic flourish Yvonne threw the book over her shoulder. Then all her grandiose acting faded away and she plopped down on the sofa. Her sword pierced right through the sofa and stuck out the other side, but she didn't notice.
"Buckle up, kids!" said Yvonne. "I've been thinking... brooding. So I've got a story for ya!"
"I think you've had too much caffeine," said Angelica, the high and mighty one.
Per her usual style, Yvonne plopped down on the sofa. She had the dusty old book of fairy-tales in her paws. Angelica, sitting on another sofa across from her, wielding a laptop which was duct-taped all over, did not protest. She accepted her fate: she would just have to listen to boring fairy-tales. She shut the laptop (as best she could what with all the tape) and sighed.
She did not object exactly, but she did have a question to ask, per her usual style. "You said last week that you were going to tell the story in your own words. So what do you need that book for?"
Yvonne gave her such a look of indignation that Savio, who previously had been happily and completely cluelessly (per his usual style) chewing on furniture, slunk under said furniture. It was quite easy for him to squeeze under the furniture considering he had chewed several huge dog-sized holes in it, not that he needed any huge holes to squeeze into: in Savio's family he was shamed for being what his parents called a "bantam". But that was because the rest of Savio's family was huge, especially old Uncle Bosco. Savio himself was around 90 pounds.
Angelica, seeing this amazing gaze of Yvonne's, retracted her statement, and sat quietly and, not per her usual style, politely, with her little paws crossed in her lap. In contrast to her previous look, Yvonne smiled and opened her dusty old book which had been the cause of the indignation.