Life functions approximately as it was once intended, after a long day comes a long night, the bad animals are more numerous than the good, and whiskey tastes better without ice. Then comes the female—in Mouse’s case a luscious puma who knew how to moisten her whiskers and put force behind her uppercut—and everything turns to chaos. Philip pushed his hat up on his head and stroked his chin thoughtfully. It was still tender after the puma’s stern reprimand the night before. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Wasn’t she simply yet another in a long series of females? He got the ace of spades, but didn’t know where he should place it. Through the door’s frosted glass pane Philip Mouse could see the contour of Daisy’s backside as she bent over looking for something in the cabinet next to the desk. Her behind was as big as a beach ball, today draped in a tight red skirt. It would burst if she bent over a few more centimeters. Philip Mouse sighed involuntarily. He was sitting in the office beyond Daisy’s.
