Cartoonist

Arthur blinked his eyes open. He looked down at the paper. The panel where he had drawn Barnaby was completely blank. "What on earth..." Arthur muttered, rubbing his eyes. Tap-tap-tap.

He turned his head toward his inkwell. Standing right on the rim of the glass jar was Barnaby. He was three-dimensional, perfectly inked, and completely alive. The tiny mouse tipped his top hat toward Arthur, leaning casually on his drawn cane. cartoonist

Arthur stared at the living cartoon, picked up his pencil with a shaking hand, and began to draw a steering wheel. Arthur blinked his eyes open

Arthur sat at his cluttered wooden desk, the glow of his desk lamp casting long, sharp shadows across a stack of Bristol board. He was a cartoonist for a dying local newspaper, known for his syndicated strip, The Daily Grump . His hands were perpetually stained with India ink, and his mind was usually preoccupied with meeting his midnight deadline. "What on earth

"No touching the merchandise! I'm still fresh!" Barnaby squeaked. "Now, if you don't mind, this desk is incredibly boring. Why don't you draw us a tiny sports car? I'd like to see the world."

Arthur froze, convinced he was dreaming. He reached out a finger to touch the mouse, and Barnaby swat it away playfully with his cane.