A Message for Royalty
During a crisp
December evening, Timothy the cunning gray cat warily wandered through the streets
of Boston. He had searched all day and only caught one mouse. He was
discouraged. Gratefully, Timothy
remembered the few scraps hastily tossed to him by an odd looking Son of
Liberty, who had sneaked out the door of a secret meeting house. His face was
covered in soot and he wore strange leather clothes. His bright green eyes sparkled like midnights
stars as a voice from inside the house noted that they were “almost
ready”. Timothy began to wander down to
the docks, where he knew the fattest mice often hid.
Earlier that day,
Timothy had confronted many a boot clad foot.
The colonists were indignant at the newly raised taxes on imported
goods, and Timothy could fathom their animosity as they punted him. Thankfully, he was now prowling the harbor,
in search of dinner. Three massive
English ships were in port and Timothy knew that mice fresh-off-a-boat were the
tastiest of all. As adrenaline pumped
through his veins and he dodged the moccasined feet of the Sons of Liberty, he
spotted his kind friend from earlier that day, who wielded a large metal
crowbar. No one seemed happy.
Timothy discovered
a bountiful supply of rodents, who couldn’t escape his quick paw. The cracking of wood caught his ear and he quickly
padded up on deck. His sharp eyes didn’t need the glistening moonlight to
observe all forty-five tons of delicious tea being dumped into Boston Harbor. As he gasped at the scene, Timothy’s friend
shouted so that all could hear,
“Come together Indians, bring your axes! Tell
the king we won’t pay taxes!” The crowd on shore, which had gathered in the
darkness, cheered vehemently.
Timothy raced down the walkway. Thoughtfully, Timothy
contemplated what he had observed and heard, and wondered if King George would
understand this message.
LOVEIT
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