Sweet Tooth the Predatory Banker

A preview of a new short-story, and a companion to my first book Frog of Arcadia

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. As a special thank you to my paid subscribers, I have included the full story below a paywall.

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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.”

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.”

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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.

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