Sweet Tooth the Predatory Banker

The following is a preview of a short-story from my upcoming anthology, The Agrigore. This collected volume will serve as a companion to my first book, Frog of Arcadia. If you enjoy my work, children’s literature told with an old soul, please consider supporting my future publications by subscribing.

There once was a rat named Sweet Tooth. He was the eldest son of a snake oil tycoon which, you should know, is a still very reputable business in the rat world. Like his father before him, Sweet Tooth was an enterprising rat with a nose for business. And so it was that Sweet Tooth one day decided that it was time for him to venture off, to make his own fortune. That is what brought him to the wildwoods. And it wouldn’t be long before his keen eye would perceive his first big business opportunity.

Respectably dressed in a candy-striped jacket and capped with his favourite skimmer hat, the dapper rat dragged a soapbox out to the middle of the forest floor. Standing atop his small platform, the rat began to tap his cane upon the cardboard to draw attention to himself.

“Step right up, folks,” he shouted as chipmunks emerged from their burrows. Sweet Tooth began to roll his moustached whiskers between his fingers as a small crowd to formed around his soapbox.

“That’s right, gather round as I share my secrets.”

“I’ve been watching you toil in vain for too long. My poor heart can’t bear to see any of you hardworking folks to lose another seed or acorn.”

“Why should we trust a rat?” Someone shouted from the crowd.

Feigning offence, the rat placed his right hand over his breast. “You know, it always hurts to hear such unfair generalizations. I bet you wouldn’t say that about a squirrel, would you. Tell me friends, what is a rat if not just a squirrel with a bald tail?”

At this creative spin, Sweet Tooth knew that the crowd’s suspicions had been pacified. Seeing that he had even won a measure of sympathy the rat grinned a toothy grin, revealing two rows of rotting teeth. But if anyone felt revulsed by the open decay, they dare not vocalize their objection for fear of being called intolerant.

“As I was saying – I’ve been watching you hardworking folks scurry to and fro as you bring home nuts for your families. You’re always looking for creative new hiding places so that you can provide for your little ones come winter. This is honest work! But the truth of the matter is that, perhaps more often than you’d like to admit, you forget where exactly your many storehouses are located. Or worse yet, you find your pantries robbed when you need them most!”

The chipmunks all nodded in agreement.

“You ma’am!” The rat pointed with his cane to a lady chipmunk in the crowd who was pushing a pram.

“Me?” She replied, not wishing to be singled out.

“Yes ma’am. Have you ever misplaced your family’s carefully hidden nuts before, and found yourself at a loss with what to feed those kiddos?”

“Why, yes actually. Just last winter my husband wasn’t able to locate one of our pantries. Things look so different in the winter, you know.”

The crowd nodded in agreement.

“And you sir,” the rat said as he swung his canes tip toward another member of the crowd. “Don’t tell me you’ve never worried about whose watching you while you hide your wares.”

“All the time!” the chipmunk admitted to a hearty guffaw from the crowd.

“I always see you fine people looking over your shoulder. Ladies and gentle critters, take my advice when I say that’s no way to live! But I offer you the solution to your misfortunes. It’s called nut banking! I’ll have you know that I’ve already secured a hollowed-out tree in this very neighbourhood, all at great risk and expense to myself I might add. And for a small fee, a measly fraction of what you already loose or misplace every year, I will secure your family’s future. Every time you make a deposit, I’ll give you a paper which entitles you to withdraw what you need, whenever you need it. No more mishaps. No more worry.”

“That sounds too good to be true!” someone shouted.

“So does candy! But I can assure you fine folks that candy is very real. I offer you peace of mind in exchange for less than what you lose every year on your own.

“But doesn’t candy rot your teeth?” someone asked.

“The analogy only goes so far.” Sweet Tooth replied. “My point is that this is a limited time offer. You are welcome to reject it, but if you do, then I will have to move along to the next community, where I will hopefully find less prejudiced folks.”

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Of course, nobody wanted to be thought of as closed-minded. So, all at once, the crowd of chipmunks rushed the soapbox, each hoping to be seen as the first to trust in this selfless rat who obviously had their best interests in mind. Or at least some form of interest.

“What do we have to do?” shouted one of the chipmunks.

From inside his jacket, Sweet Tooth produced a roll of contracts, a quail-feather pen and a small ink well.

“All you have to do is sign your name on the dotted line,” he replied, slapping the unrolled documents on the soapbox. “Then let ole Sweet Tooth take care of the rest.”

***

As the months past on, the chipmunks grew quite accustomed to the convenience of central banking. Each of them busied themselves in preparation for the coming winter, foraging in the woods and storing up their wealth in the security of Sweet Tooth’s hollowed out tree. For their peace of mind, Sweet Tooth had even employed a few of his rat companions to stand on guard outside the hollow, making sure that nobody else had access to The Bank.

Though these rats would often help themselves to the nuts in plain sight, they would only need to remind the chipmunks of the small fee which they had all agreed to, and the chipmunk’s minds would quickly be put at ease. Besides, every nut was properly accounted for, they were assured. This is the price of security. Just read the contracts that you signed.

“See how cosmopolitan we’ve become,” a lady chipmunk bragged to her visiting relatives, who were understandably more suspicious of the rats. Of course, any concerned objections from friends and relations were sharply met with accusations of being uncivilized.

By the time the last of the leaves were falling from their high places, the chipmunks had already readied their burrows beneath the tree roots. Around warm hearths, they celebrated another successful harvest and with apple cider they toasted to a fat winter.

When they awoke the next morning, a heavenly blanket of white covered the forest floor. And all at once, the chipmunks’ minds turned to The Bank. It was time to make a withdrawal from their savings.

But when they arrived, they were surprised to discover the storehouse nearly empty!

From high up on a branch, Sweet Tooth and his confederates looked down upon the angry mob, which was beginning to riot at the stump of the hollow tree.

“Whatever could be the matter?” Sweet Tooth spoke calmly.

“Where are our savings, you rat!” one of the chipmunks shouted.

“It’s all safe, I assure you.”

Some of them held their breath, suddenly unready to trust the rats, now that they were confronted with such dire circumstances.

“Where is it, then?”

“Well, it’s not here, is it? Did you not read the contracts which you signed?” Sweet Tooth placed a toothpick in his mouth and pulled the signed contracts from his jacket pocket. “Says here that The Bank is only required to hold only a small portion of your savings at any given time. The rest of it has been loaned out to other good people like yourselves. You can’t all show up at the same time and expect to take your nuts out. That’s not how The Bank works! Best I can give you is ten per cent of your deposits. The rest of it will come back to you by spring… with interest of course.”

“But its winter now! Our families will starve on so little,” shouted the chipmunk mothers as their children began to cry.

“Well, I wouldn’t normally offer this, but I could grant each of you an advancement on your nuts from my own personal savings,” sneered the pernicious rat.

“In exchange for what?” the chipmunks answered, this time with their eyes wide open to the maliciousness of the rat.

Sweet Tooth pretended to ponder the question. “In exchange for… oh I don’t know. What’s fair. Let’s say ten per cent of you, chipmunks.”

The crowd gasped in horror at the evil proposition, while the rats giggled from the high branches.

Suddenly the white blanket of snow reeked of death in the chipmunks’ nostrils.

“Oh, lighten up!” Sweet Tooth scolded. “Most of you are going to perish this winter anyway, with such a food shortage. You might as well give me a meagre percentage of you so that we can all eat well over the cold winter months. Besides, these nuts are hard on my teeth.”

It was in the cruelty of that offer that the chipmunks learned a timeless lesson, though they learned it much too late. Some people might try to rob you with a knife or a gun, while others will use a pen.

I truly hope that you enjoyed this short story. This tale was written as a supplement to my first book, Frog of Arcadia. If you haven’t read Frog of Arcadia yet, you can grab your copy here. Please feel free to share your thoughts below. And thank you for reading Sweet Tooth the Predatory Banker.

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