“Something must be done.”

“He cannot, he simply cannot be my son,” Lester said. He clutched his whiskers with his front paws and shook his head side to side in despair.

He’s not accusing his wife of cheating, he’s just desperately looking for somewhere else to lay the blame. He proceeds to blame her just for her French blood (which didn’t appear to affect any of their other children).

“He is a small mouse. How much of the harm can he do?”

“If there is one thing I have learned in this world,” said Lester, “it is that mice must act like mice or else there is bound to be trouble. I will call a special meeting of the Mouse Council. Together, we will decide what must be done.”

It’s sad that his first impulse when he hears about Despereaux’s antics is to summon the authorities as opposed to, I don’t know, TALKING TO HIS SON? But then again, he’s been the black sheep ever since he was born.

The rhythm of the drum was a signal for the members of the Mouse Council.

Boom. Tat-tat. Boom. Tat-tat. Boom.

The beating of the drum let them know that an important decision would have to be made, one that affected the safety and well-being of the entire mouse community.

All because a little mouse fell in love. Why can’t they just let him be happy?

Until next time…

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