Mosby's Guitar

Mosby was relaxing in the sun when the Rag Tag Gang stole his guitar. The feathery little creatures picked up the instrument by the strap and lifted it high above Mosby’s head before he could react. They flew away, laughing and chuckling as Mosby tried to catch up.

He found it funny at first, because he thought youth was incapable of evil and all they did was play, which was true. But then he was faced with the daunting reality of his own mortality. Ever since Jack the Dreammaster cursed Mosby years earlier, our troubadour had to play a tune each day, or he would die.

Mosby, huffing and puffing, reached Constable Grey’s station. The creature lifted its heads and looked at Mosby.

”Constable Grey,” said Mosby, “You need to help me. The Rag Tag Gang took off with my guitar. I am in dire straits."

"I would love to help you, Mosby,” said the constable multilabially, “But I am need of my flowerpot which I loaned to Betsy Berkeley the Bee Behaver.”

Oh boy, thought Mosby, here we go. Why is life always so predictable? And he embarked on the first of a chain of quests to retrieve his invaluable instrument.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk