Please note: THIS IS A TRUE STORY. Thanks, and have a negevly day.
Once upon a time, there was a cute, rather large, tan-and-white (not the same as white-and-tan), attractive, silky, chubby, regal, handsome, soigné, charming, likable, sweet, kindly, plump, jiggly, clean, intelligent, lovable, smart, and humble genius of rat who unfortunately lived with his annoying, white-and-tan, crusty, greasy, and stinky brother. The tan-and-white rat was a king named Negev. He ruled the kingdom of Negevland. His brother (the white-and-tan one) was named Mojave. He was a servant in Negev’s castle.
Negev was a good king with a cute pink tail. All the citizens in his kingdom (population 126) loved him and never wanted him to leave. He was very kind and made sure none of his beloved subjects ever had to see his brother’s face, as he knew from personal experience that it caused nightmares and permanent mental scarring.
Mojave was a very cruel rat. He had sharp, pointy, unflossed teeth and a really bad case of halitosis. He never groomed his fur, which was why it was so greasy and straw-like. Also, his tail, instead of a sweet and charming rosy-pink, was a gross crusty dark brown. It was really quite unattractive, and Mojave never made an effort to cover it up.
Perhaps it was this gross and unappealing tail that caused Mojave to do what he ended up doing to his brother, the good and beloved king. Most rats in his place would have gotten plastic surgery to adjust the pigments in his tail, but Mojave was too cheap for plastic surgery. Besides, he wasn’t unhappy enough with the way he looked to go under the knife. Instead, he just wanted to take out his anger on some innocent soul (id est, his brother). And he didn’t want to just yell and scream furiously at Negev… no, he wanted more.
It all happened one fine air-conditioned day. Negev was playing with Mojave, even though it was against the rules of society and all of Negev’s kingly instincts to frolick with a lowly servant (even if they were related). Luckily (or unluckily), no one was there to see him degrade himself to the level of a lowly and smelly servant. The two brothers had been leaping on the furniture across the royal chambers. Because he was very agile, Negev found it easy to fly across the silk pillows and custom-made pawstools. Mojave, however, was used to grovelling on the floors and cleaning the latrines, so he was nowhere near Negev’s easy gliding way when it came to leaping across furniture. Angered even more, the ungrateful and cruel white-and-tan rat started to feel a need to carry out his wicked and vicious plan.
“Negev will want to marry my ‘crusty brown’ tail by the time I finish my plan,” said the evil and rather menacing rat, thinking of his very violent and messed-up plan.
Fueled by his demonic desires, Mojave saw the perfect opportunity arise just as he turned aroound in time to see Negev leaping off from a particularily low-seated wicker chair imported from Peru. Mojave chuckled normally (which, for him, was an evil cackle) and rushed forth.
“Hey Gevvy!” shouted the two-faced rat. “Nice moves! Your tail gives you great balance. I wonder what would happen if you didn’t have one, though.”
“Ayo, Momo,” replied the soaring rat. “I honestly don’t know. Good thing no one’s chopping off my tail anytime soon.”
With an evil glint in his eye, Mojave simply responded, “Or are they?” before jumping as high as he was able into the air and chomping down on his brother’s tail. “I’m sorry,” he said while sinking his teeth into the base of the beloved king’s tail. “I think I mispoke. I meant to imply that I was going to bite your tail, not chop it off.”
Negev wanted to say a lot of things, like how Mojave was definitely not getting a pay raise ever again, or how if Mojave had wanted to bite someone’s tail off, why not his own crusty brown one? However, the only thing he was able to get out of his vocal chords was “OWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! THAT HURT ME TAIL REAL BAD!” He was in excruciating pain, and he knew he would probably die of blood loss and traitoroussiblingitis if someone did not find and help him. Mojave had already slunk away after biting Negev’s royal tail a couple more times, and the king was pretty sure it wasn’t to get help or even a little bandage, so it was just Negev alone for now. He sat in the empty royal chambers, wondering if someone would ever find him.
Negev eventually was rescued by his grandnanny, who had been near the royal chambers when she heard his shrill shriek. She rushed him to the Very Excellent Treaters Hospital (or V. E. T. Hospital), where he recieved four stitches for his tail, which never really healed. All the rest of his life, he had to live with an awful scar on his otherwise perfect pink tail. It almost made him jealous of Mojave’s gross, smelly, crusty, greasy, chunky, poop-colored, yet unscarred tail, but he still prefered his.
As for Mojave, he got put in jail, and was never allowed to be in the same room as Negev again. (Which made cleaning Negev’s room hard, but it was worth Negev’s safety.)