text: [Themes: family friendly, animal perspective, family friendly]
  
  Madame Racoon sighs in her rocking chair, tired of knitting wool mittens and scarves. At the same time, she drinks the last sips of her now cold and lonely winter tea.
  
  It is too cold this winter, with these the animals of the orphanage and the kittens of Mrs Baker will be able to spend winter as warm as the chicks of the eagles, or the puppies in their neighbourhoods high above the valley, with their huge chimneys and electric lights.
  
  "Coon? Are you there?" a sweet voice comes from outside of the hall door. It is Mama Cat.
  
  "Mama Cat, how long since we have last seen each other?"
  
  The old retired detective puts down her stocking needles and lifts herself as fast as her aching bones allow. She smiles, grooming her long grey beams.
  
  "Too many travels, comrade too many. Everything remains the same. Maybe that gives us hope that nothing will get worse." The cat nervously puts on her wool scarf, almost as if she were a puppy chasing a ball of wool.
  
  "Come, sit in this chair by the fireplace. I am sure that you're dead cold," Raccoon adds as she, with her plump arms, blows the chimney flames. The entire room glows with a welcoming light as the wind and snow roar threateningly outside.
  
  [Author's Note: Entry into End Master's Manifest Destiny Contest (2021). A stand-alone sequel to: Elvis At The Beauty Contest. Join Miz, Matt, and Mandy as Madame Coon recounts the tale of the Capi's band and their missing instruments!]
  
  > say "Have a cup of hot chocolate. It will warm you."
  "Your house is still as cosy and bright as ever, old detective."
  
  The kitchen is small and spotless with beautifully painted pots of thousands of colours, full of carnations and aromatic plants.
  The big red iron kettle makes a nice noise, and the milk chocolate and cinnamon boil happily as Madame Coon stirs them with a large wooden spoon.
  
  After whispering a happy tune, she finally answers her friend, "My mother always said that a kitchen full of brightly coloured dishes and herbs is a comfortable house."
  
  > say "I have to tell you something, Madame Raccoon. I need you to take care of my children, at least for tonight."
  "You don't have to ask." Raccoon's big eyes take in her friend's face, and a fang-to-fang smile fills her face. "I like nothing more than taking care of your three kids."
  
  The cat rocks weakly in the rocking chair, still holding the hot cup on her lap. She, for a moment, remains silent, looking at the flames crackle as if they danced in the fireplace- "You think that one day everything will be different. And that the valley will be..."
  
  A silence as cold as a blizzard filled the cosy room. Not even the chimney fire could warm up.
  
  > say "I've always believed it. Since before you were born."
  Madame continues to gesticulate passionately, almost as if she can turn the air around her. "When I started being a detective, I was the only rogue in the police force. How many are there now?"
  
  "20, 50?" The cat jumped up, tired of her, and the slight wound on her leg almost forgotten. "You don't know what it is like, trying to change things day after day. Raise your young to be beneficial animals. And see that almost everything remains the same as when you were born."
  
  Madame Raccon gets up as fast as she can, trying to forget the crunch in her hip.
  
  "Shh, believe the word of this old raccoon, things are changing. And everything that each person does matters as each drop counts in the flow of the river," she comments as she hugs Mana Cat tightly with her plump arms.
  
  > A few hours later.
  "Madame Raccoon, where are you? Look at what we brought!" the three kittens chant from the other side of the red oak door.
  
  Madame Coon runs happily to open the great oak front door. "OMG Miz, Matt and Mandy! You have grown so much! Oh, but what do you have in your clutches? Let me see those bags."
  
  > The bags are filled with cherry pie, ice cream with cream, and milkshakes.
  "Cherry pie in these winter months! Mama Cat, it must have cost you a fortune."
  
  "It was a gift from someone in the neighbourhood of nests who was charitable with the poorest people, and they've given me cherries," Mama Cat blurts shyly without even glancing at Coon's eyes.
  
  "We know that cherry pie is your favourite Madame Coon!" Matt yells excitedly, grinning with all of his soul behind his deep, glowing blue eyes.
  
  > say "I have also prepared a surprise for you all."
  "Go! We can't let the food get cold, Coon!" Mandy grabs Coon's hand and tries to drag her into the kitchen.
  
  "Mandy! You can't be so rude, dragging Mrs Raccoon into her own kitchen!" Miz gestures, exercising her 10-minute older lordship over her two siblings.
  
  "Children, no!" Mama Cat cuts vehemently. "Behave like good kittens, or Coon will never invite you to her house again."
  
  "Noo! Madame, we will be good. We want to hear more stories from when you were a detective!" the three cubs chant simultaneously, placing the purchase on the now full-of-things coffee table before throwing themselves to hug the old raccoon tightly.
  
  "Come on, children, of course. I'll tell you stories as always, but first it's time for a feast."
  
  > say "Uff, I can't eat one more bite!"
  "Ahh, I have gum on my fur! Damn you, Maz!" Mandy screams as Miz tries to peel the gum that Matt has stuck to her sister from her ears.
  
  "Ahh!" It hurts her a lot. "You're going to rip my ear off, Miz!" Mandy shudders in her chair as her sister tries to peel off the gum with her sharp claws.
  
  "I will solve this quickly, children. My mother taught me an infallible trick." Madame Coon gasps as she paces her kitchen, looking everywhere from her cheery pots to earthenware bowls of all colours to her pantry.
  
  "What are you looking for, old friend? Can I help you with something before my daughter turns bald?" asks Mama Cat, curious about the search of the old raccoon.
  
  "I was going to use peanut butter. But I finished it," says Coon scratching her whiskers. "I can always use either oil or vinegar. Mandy, it's your hair, you choose."
  
  "Why did you stuck this gum in my fur? I didn't do anything to hurt you!" Mandy comments with tears in her eyes.
  
  "Sorry, I didn't mean to harm you; I was just bored," Matt comments as he hugs his sis, making a Miz sandwich in the process.
  
  > say "Vinegar, I guess,"
  Coon leaves the kitchen as fast as she can walk in her tiny wool slippers. A few minutes pass. She appears with iron curlers heavier than a giant pot full of melted chocolate.
  
  "No! That is going to burn my ear. I'd prefer to go bald!" Mandy pleads with panic gleaming in her eyes, writhing to escape her sister's arms.
  
  "No, little girl, I'm not going to touch you with the hot iron," Coon says in her sweetest voice. "Heating the vinegar adds a boost to the treatment, that's all."
  
  "Try not to move, sister!" Matt huffs hoarsely, trying not to cry.
  
  "All of this is your fault!" Miz and Mandy say simultaneously, posing their combined gaze on the younger kitten's embarrassed face.
  
  Coon finally set the tongs on a red metal bucket filled with water that began to hiss and bubble like a soda bath. "Don't be so hard on him. At least he's sorry. Now take this comb and comb your hair."
  
  Mandy shakily grasps the comb, her body shaking and shaking like the tofu jelly that their mother gives them every morning.
  Slowly she lifts the comb and tentatively brings it to her fluffy ear.
  
  "Come on, Mandy, you can do it!" Miz cheers for her sister, patting her back in support.
  
  The chewing gum melts! Mandy throws herself into the arms of the old raccoon. "Thanks, Coon, you're the best!"
  
  > They say goodbye to Mama Cat before entering the home again.
  "Well, now that this bubble gum tragedy is over. It is tale time! Follow me."
  
  The kittens follow coon to her cosy living room with her big warm brick fireplace.
  
  "Now, sit down, and I will tell you one of my cases while you warm up." She sits them down on a comfortable leather sofa, covered in a red woollen blanket woven by Madame Coon last winter.
  
  Then she reclines in her rocking chair, looking at the fire. "You know, children, this adventure reminds me of one of my old cases. That I believe that a particular naughty kitten can learn how to behave and that your brothers are your most significant support in this world."
  
  Matt stares at his hind legs on the comfortable sofa, unable to look his two sisters in the eyes.
  
  "Yes, I think you are going to love the story of the capybara brothers." Coon takes a deep breath, and begins telling the story. "Their names were Nak, Lolo, Ter, and Pat. And they played the guitar, keyboard, drums, and trumpet, respectively. Nak was also the lead singer. Together, they formed a band."
  
  > say "And they had prepared hard for the day of the Music Competition..."
  "We are here to sign up for the competition!" says Pat, with his squeaky voice.
  
  A black monkey laughs as he walks by carrying a trombone.
  
  William, a rabbit with thick black shades hops over. "What do you want?"
  
  "Pat just said it, we want to sign up," this time it's Lolo who speaks.
  
  Ba dum tsss. A simple tune was just beaten out on a drum set in the back; played by a smirking brown monkey.
  
  "No, seriously!"
  
  "Uh," mumbles the rabbit, before perking up. "You have no instruments. We need to store them at the back, so we can roll them onstage in the correct order."
  
  "We do have instruments," says Pat. "We just," he trails off.
  
  "We looked everywhere," Nak says with his deeper voice, "but we couldn't find them. We were hoping to borrow some instruments. A guitar-"
  
  "Keyboard," interrupts Lolo.
  
  "Drum set," interjects Ter.
  
  "And a trumpet!" shouts Pat, raising his hands to mime it out while blowing air.
  
  "Sorry, everyone needs to bring their own. We have no spares."
  
  Loud clattering interrupts the conversation as many felines march inside, carrying boxes and disassembled instruments. It's an entire entourage!
  
  And then there he is: K-pop Glitter Mittens! He's stopped to stare at the capybaras. "Have you brought us some snacks?" he asks.
  
  The brown drum monkey calls out, "They came trying to loan instruments to participate in the competition."
  
  "Oh! You're that 'rap' group who've been wasting time making noise. You should do as your fathers did and farm. Someone has to, so the rest of us can be fed and keep making art." He laughs as he goes to follow his entourage, calling back, "I'm afraid I can't loan you anything, my instruments require gentler paws than you possess."
  
  Nak sighs as he watches him go.
  
  "Gather," Lolo whisper-shouts. The four capybara's move to stand in a loose square, arms interlocked and heads down.
  
  "Mittens has the largest collection," says Nak, "if he has no spares, no one else will either, and we can't participate without instruments!"
  
  "No, so we'll need to find ours," says Pat.
  
  "How? We spent the whole dawn looking! We didn't just misplace them, they're proper gone."
  
  Ter coughs, drawing the other's attention. "What if we...get someone else to help us? After all, don't missing instruments sound like a perfect case for..."
  
  > say "Madame Raccoon!"
  You see, I knew about Nak, Lolo, Ter, and Pat, as they were our local band! They would practice not too far from my home, so I'd hear them pouring out their souls every night.
  
  And so, imagine my surprise when they showed up at my door, on the day of the Music Competition no less! I was very surprised, but when I heard about their plight, I knew I had to help.
  
  I didn't think they had just misplaced their instruments on a day as important as this, especially after I heard them practicing yesterday. I had suspicions that they were...stolen!
  
  "I promise to help find your instruments, little ones."
  
  "Thanks Madame Raccoon!" they sang together.
  
  "I knew a detective would be helpful," mentions Ter.
  
  "But first," I raise a finger, "I can see that you are stressed, so let's take a moment to relax and figure out what to do next."
  
  "Madame, the competition...they need our instruments to store them before the performance, there isn't much time."
  
  "I know, dear, but rushing to turn the valley upside down won't accomplish anything. Besides, I need to know where you've already checked." I step out, closing the door behind me.
  
  Nak says, "I checked the theatre."
  
  "And I looked around the kitchen," adds Lolo.
  
  Ter speaks, "I examined our practice spot."
  
  "And I all around it," finishes Pat.
  
  "Ah, good, good. Anywhere else?"
  
  "Yes!" they shout, before listing even more places in the neighbourhood, as I lead them with me.
  
  Do you know where I took them?
  
  > An ice-cream shop!
  Ha! How did you know? But yes, I took them to the high-street ice cream parlour. They'd practically checked the entirety of our neighbourhood, so I knew our search needed to cast a wider net.
  
  And the gelato there was the sweetest.
  
  The kids had never been there before, as capybara didn't go to high-street. We made quite the sight; a pack led by a raccoon.
  
  When we reached the parlour, I could see the storekeeper watching us with narrowed eyes.
  
  The band moved to take seats on the patio while I went inside.
  
  "Gooday," I said as I entered. The storekeeper nodded, seeming to recognise me.
  
  But, from a window-side seat, guess who spoke up?
  
  "Oh, Agent Raccoon, what a pleasant sight to see a distinguished rodent-like yourself in this magnificent establishment," the sugary voice of the bright white fur cat stuck to my ears like cotton candy on my whiskers on a fair day. "I recommend the pistachio cream and mint jam ice cream, the best of the menu."
  
  Something in the way he moved his hands, showing his claws painted a pink as bright as the feathered hat topped with tiny diamonds.
  
  Miz interrupts the story to scowl and wave her long tail in the comfortable woollen squab in front of the fireplace. "Mama taught us that showing our claws is rude."
  
  "And so it is. But Mittens seemed to have forgotten that lesson...but let's go back to the ice cream parlour. For I had a choice to make."
  
  The arrayed ice cream and gelato were all encompassing, covering all flavours imaginable. The capybaras had left the decision of sweet to me, as they'd never been here before. Picking one flavour would be difficult, let alone five! So, I had decided to get the same flavour for everyone.
  
  > Chocolate.
  "What unrefined taste," notes my observer.
  
  "I think simpler things can be good," I respond.
  
  I head out to the patio, where I'm swarmed and robbed! Left with only one ice-cream.
  
  "Thank you," says Ter. The others echo his sentiment before resuming their devouring.
  
  Leaving the parlour, Mitten's dismissive gaze almost suggests that a Racoon and the gang could only ever be mere servants in his presence him.
  
  "Glitters!" perks up Lolo. "Funny seeing you again."
  
  "Yes, yes. I imagine Agent Raccoon will be helping find your instruments? Then I wish you the best of luck in the contest. Isn't it great that people like you can now be admitted into music competitions? Crazy the things farmers know how to do." Lolo goes to speak, but Glitter doesn't pause. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a record signing to attend to, back at the store. Have a good day."
  
  Those diamond tipped pink claws give the slightest wave.
  
  "He sure is busy," begins Pat. "Bouncing all over the place."
  
  The others snicker.
  
  With our calming excursion coming to an end, the gang looks upon me in anticipation.
  
  Our valley is big, where could the instruments possibly be hidden?
  
  > The Old Warehouse.
  Ah yes, the old warehouse. Lots of papers are stored there, and it is generally not open to the public. Hiding a keyboard, or even a drum set, wouldn't be too difficult.
  
  The capybaras weren't able to check there, but with me alongside them, we should be able to take a look.
  
  And so, we went!
  
  The building loomed behind the chain-link fence, and at the entrance, a guard dog came out carrying a small box.
  
  Seeing him notice us, I spoke, "Hello, may we look around inside?"
  
  "Oh? Need to check some form? What kind?"
  
  "No, we are actually looking for missing musical instruments. Say, what are you carrying?" A trumpet or drum set piece could fit inside that box!
  
  "This? Laminated fish tax notices. Going to dump them in the lake round back."
  
  "Might I take a peek?"
  
  "I think that breaches confidentiality." His arms sag. "It's heavier than usual, so I'd like to dump it quickly, if you don't mind."
  
  "Don't worry, I won't read anything. I just want to make sure it is what you say it is. You just said it's heavier than usual, no? Laminated papers should have a consistent weight!"
  
  "Hmm, I suppose you're right." He puts down the box. Clang! He opens it. "What? A trumpet? This wouldn't play underwater, and besides, we aren't supposed to have instruments here!"
  
  "That's my trumpet!" shouts Pat. "I'd recognise it anywhere! Just look at the worn valves, who's markings match my claws' size."
  
  "What?" The guard holds the trumpet to Pat, who demonstrates. "You're right!" shouts the guard. "Here you go then." He hands him the trumpet. "I need to go inside to check for the missing fish tax notices. Someone must've misplaced a few."
  
  "Can we come inside with you? To check for more instruments."
  
  "Yes, a good idea! Come on in. We don't want those taking up valuable space."
  
  The musky metal shell is lined by shelves, stacked with boxes and papers. So dull! Good thing we weren't there looking for anything like that.
  
  We started checking the first set of boxes while the guard dog went looking for his missing papers.
  
  Yet after lifting another small box, Pat stopped. He had found a pile of laminated papers.
  
  > sneakily slide them under a shelf.
  With a mischievous grin, Pat put the papers on the floor and pushed them under a shelf. It'll be hard to find them there!
  
  He wasn't sure they were the fish taxes, but that didn't stop him from enjoying his little practical prank.
  
  What he enjoyed less was the monotonous searching.
  
  The guard dog also didn't seem to be having much luck, but there was much to check.
  
  Yet eventually, finally, we found it. Pushed back and hidden behind a set of tall boxes was...Ter's drum set!
  
  "Yay!" he called out, running over to it.
  
  A drum set is made up of multiple parts. Divvying it up, we carried it out of the warehouse, waving goodbye to the guard dog as we went; it seemed his fortune had perked up, as he was holding some laminated papers when we left.
  
  "Goodbye," he said. "Close the door on your way out."
  
  "Will do!"
  
  Outside, opposite the warehouse was a dump, and we saw a garbage truck come to a stop.
  
  > Carrying the drums.
  We leave the warehouse area, stepping back out onto the street, where the garbage man's orange vest catches all our attention, alongside the clinking and clanging of whatever is in the black bags.
  
  He is inside the back of his truck, taking out and piling up the bags right beside it.
  
  Noticing our inquisitive looks, he speaks up, "Just this week's greens. Shattered glass and the like."
  
  "Ah," the band muse in tandem.
  
  That's why this truck appears to be so clean, it's only filled with bags of glass.
  
  Lolo watches the shifting pile of sound-making glass bound by plastic.
  
  > pour out a bag.
  Lolo runs up to the pile, the garbage man not noticing or not caring (or perhaps both?). There he claws at one of the bags, and glass ruptures out, cascading like a sharp waterfall.
  
  He jumps back with a yelp and starts laughing. Such a loud, clear sound, ringing in his ears.
  
  "Ugh! What did you do?" asks the garbage man, moving to climb past the bags.
  
  Lolo runs off laughing, hiding behind me.
  
  "Lolo!" I scolded him with my tone.
  
  The garbage man is shaking his head, looking down at the spilled glass. He looks to me, "That's kids for ya." He goes to the passenger seat, retrieving a broom.
  
  I sigh as I gather up the smirking kids, and organise them for a march away, everyone carrying some of the drum set pieces.
  
  After walking not too far, Ter asks, "Do we have to carry this all the way to the music avenue?"
  
  > say "Yes, we have to get it there somehow."
  "Fine," responded Ter, accepting what must be done.
  
  It was an uneventful walk. Carrying the drum set was tiring.
  
  But we had made it!
  
  However once inside, William, the rabbit handling sign-up, was nowhere to be seen.
  
  "I see you got some instruments," notes the trombone monkey from before, now without his instrument. It must've been stored backstage. "If you're looking to sign up, you're late, and will have to try later, during the last-minute bookings."
  
  "Is that fine?" asks Pat.
  
  "Sure, but admission is harsher, as too many people joining late could mess up the scheduling."
  
  "Well, not like we have much choice," muses Nak.
  
  "Yeah," whispers Ter.
  
  "Hey, no loitering with instruments," scolds another monkey. "We need to start setting up this space for the audience, so go loiter with those things in the preparation rooms. You late sign-ups always thinking you're so cool," he trails off as he walks away.
  
  "Let's move, then. Just a bit further," says Lolo.
  
  There were a few preparation rooms to choose from, but we just went into the first.
  
  That's when we saw, at the snack table opposite the entrance, a hen maid looking down at her feet, with none other but K-pop Glitter Mittens standing before her! He was laughing as we entered the room.
  
  "But now, to fix this, why not go get another maid to bring us new refreshments? And tell her not to be as careless as you just were," he instructs.
  
  "Y-yes, right away," she mumbles, before rushing towards the door. "Oh sorry," she mutters, almost having collided with me.
  
  "That's alright."
  
  "Oh?" says Mittens, "it's you. Come to cheer me on? The audience will be admitted later, and I'm afraid we don't allow instruments amid the crowd."
  
  "Actually, we'll be entering! We just have to wait for the late sign-ups," says Nak, while the hen maid bowed and left.
  
  "A trumpet and drums? A band of four with two instruments? Late sign-ups are a little too strict for that, don't you think?" he asks, as he begins to circle the band.
  
  "We can still perform," says Pat.
  
  "Of course! Represent all those idealist daydreamers, yes?" He stops beside the door.
  
  The hen maid from earlier returns, carrying a platter of water glasses. As she enters, she steps carefully between the drum set pieces.
  
  "You again?!" Mittens shouts, surprising the hen maid, which causes her to jump slightly. A little water spills into the tray. "And another spill? Didn't I tell you to get another maid? That means, not you."
  
  "Y-yes, they were busy, so the kitchen just sent me again. Said a water spill was-"
  
  "Could've just waited to avoid this." He shakes his head. "The water is supposed to stay inside the glass. That way our hands don't get wet when holding one. We don't drink with our hands like some common animal!"
  
  > defend the hen.
  "Calm down Mittens, there are napkins on the table, and you could just hold the top part of the glass if the water concerns you," says Nak.
  
  "Yeah!" supports Ter, with a quiet cheer.
  
  "Stay out of this, small ones, you weren't here for the first spill."
  
  "Wasn't it also just water?" asks Lolo.
  
  "I can't even tell there was a spill," notes Pat.
  
  "It's about the principle, this is a major music event with a lot of competitors. The hired help should at least be passable."
  
  "Just leave her alone," I say.
  
  Mittens rolls his eyes as he turns around, rotating a wrist and flexing his claws. He heads back to his seat beside the table.
  
  The hen maid gives us a smile while Mitten's back is turned, and then leaves the platter on the table.
  
  As she walks back, Mittens is sitting, feigning disinterest. The hen maid gestures for the band to gather, then gives them her friendship necklace. She then rushes for the door.
  
  "Thank you," they sing as she leaves, but with a soft delivery. She gives a wave from the door as she slips away.
  
  I look back to Mittens and see him examining a wall with great interest, finger up as if to measure it.
  
  The other occupants were talking quietly among each other.
  
  Pat went and got a glass of water, but when he looks for a seat, he finds there are only two free in the entire room, and they are on opposite walls!
  
  "Come, we'll wait in another room," I say. "It makes sense that the first one filled up."
  
  Pat downs his glass, then the band lifts their instruments, and we leave.
  
  > A short wait.
  There was plenty of room in the fifth preparation room. It was there that we waited.
  
  Outside the room, we heard a call for the final sign-ups.
  
  In the main room there were two tables. One had a long line, where audience members were being admitted. The other had William, who, upon seeing us, clutches his forehead.
  
  Nak runs up to him, "We have instruments, so we can sign-up now!"
  
  "Hmm, two instruments?"
  
  "Yes!"
  
  "It was all we could find," mumbles Ter.
  
  "Well, this is a late sign-up, so there are additional standards in place."
  
  "What standards?" asks Lolo.
  
  "You're an incomplete band, the instruments matter as much as the performers. Better luck next time."
  
  "Oh, come now, they can still perform," I say.
  
  "I'm sorry, rules are rules. We can't clutter the concert at this stage."
  
  "What!? So we can't perform?"
  
  "No."
  
  > The audience stirs.
  From the audience, a familiar figure steps out. The hen maid from earlier voices her support, "If there's room, there's no reason not to let them perform."
  
  "Very well. I've changed my mind. You can perform. I'll have a hen tell you your time slot once I fit you in. Take your equipment to the back."
  
  "What's with the commotion?" asks Mittens as he strides into the room; all eyes move to him.
  
  "Just a late sign-up," explains William.
  
  Mittens sees the happy band standing before the desk. "Wait, them? They don't even have all their instruments!"
  
  "The audience doesn't seem to mind. They think they can perform, so they can sign-"
  
  "Late sign-ups are supposed to have standards!"
  
  "Yes, normally we're stricter, but there's no one else trying to sign-up either."
  
  "Unbelievable."
  
  "Why are you so upset Mr?" asks Lolo.
  
  "He's afraid we'll beat him!" says Nak.
  
  "Oh, that'll never happen," snorts Mittens. "But even a broken clock is right twice a day. I shouldn't worry about this." After a moment, he tells William, "You should put this 'band' before my performance, that way the audience will have a good reward for enduring theirs."
  
  William nods, and Mittens leave before his insult can be confronted.
  
  "That wasn't very nice of him," says Ter. Pat nods.
  
  "Now, now," begins William, "while Mittens is great, he can be a bit harsh. Regardless of what he says, getting to be the leadup to his performance is a great position! The audience will also get a nice contrast between your two styles."
  
  "You know our style?" asks Lolo.
  
  "Well, I'm assuming it isn't the same as Mittens, given how much fewer instruments you have. He is a star, too."
  
  "I see," says Lolo.
  
  "William's right!" says Nak. "This is a great chance for us, being placed before such a big figure! Quick, we need to figure out our performance with only two instruments."
  
  William jolts, "You didn't do that before signing up?"
  
  "Hehe," laughs Nak, before walking towards the side rooms, followed by his friends.
  
  "Unbelievable," mutters William.
  
  "Don't worry," I say. "They're good at improvisation." I leave the foyer to follow the gang.
  
  They're already in a heated discussion about what song to play.
  
  > Johnny B. Goode
  "Great! We have a song then," says Nak.
  
  "But we are missing the keyboard and guitar," notes Ter.
  
  "We'll just have to change how we play," says Pat.
  
  "What about me and Ter?" asks Pat. "We don't have any instruments to play."
  
  "Well, Nak has his guitar, so what if he focuses on that and Ter sings instead?"
  
  "I'd rather not," says Ter. "Everyone would be looking at me."
  
  "If Pat sings what will you do? Dance?"
  
  Ter shakes his head.
  
  "What if I dance?" asks Pat. "Everyone will be looking at me instead, so you can sing."
  
  "Oh, that works."
  
  "We're late in the schedule, so we should rehearse what we can," says Nak.
  
  William hops over, carrying three hats. "Your parents arrived and wanted me to bring you these."
  
  "Hats? What for?" asks Lolo.
  
  "They said they were worried about you only having half your instruments and thought these fancy hats might help you stand out more. I'm not one to question parents," he said with a smile.
  
  "But with only three, one of us won't get a hat."
  
  "They mentioned you shouldn't wear them all, as it'd be too much. They're waiting for me to bring back the hats you don't pick." He holds them up.
  
  They picked the...
  
  > Red hat.
  "An elegant choice," says William, leaving with the other two hats.
  
  "Lolo and I have our instruments, so we don't need the hat," begins Nak. "It would probably fall off Pat's head while dancing, so you should wear it, Ter." He holds out the hat.
  
  Ter takes it, putting it on. "How do I look?"
  
  "Fits great!"
  
  "We should rehearse now, right?" asks Lolo.
  
  "Yeah!" responds Nak.
  
  "I see you've got this under control," I say. "So, I'll leave you to it and get myself a ticket."
  
  The band turns to me, as if they'd forgotten I was here. "Okay!" they sing in unison.
  
  "We'll put on a great performance for you, Madame Raccoon," Nak says on behalf the band.
  
  "I'm sure you will," I say with a smile. And so, there I left them to their practice, while I went to join the queue.
  
  But I will save you having to wait in line with me, and we'll skip to inside the auditorium.
  
  My seat was to the side and back, and there I was when the lights illuminated the stage.
  
  There were many performers that day, but I was most eagerly waiting for the capybara band.
  
  And their time came.
  
  I heard the audience mumbling as the band set up.
  
  Pat was in the front, Ter behind him. At the keyboard Lolo was ready. On the other side was Nak with his guitar.
  
  The performance began.
  
  The trumpet began to blare out a beat, supported by the drums. Lolo was getting into the groove as Nak prepared to sing.
  
  As Lolo broke into dance, Nak sang, "Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans!"
  
  And the band performed out their hearts!
  
  > say "Go! Johnny B. Goode!"
  As the song ends, the audience erupts into applause.
  
  Nak, Lolo, Ter, and Pat are all smiling, arms held high in triumph.
  
  They begin to clear off stage, carrying their instruments with them.
  
  Then the next band begins to set up. The team of K-pop Glitter Mittens!
  
  Some in the audience begin to cheer already, recognising the glamour.
  
  When the instruments are all in place, Mittens strides onto the stage. Even more of the audience cheers.
  
  Then their performance begins. Instruments begin to play, Mittens bobbing his head to the rhythm.
  
  He begins to sing, "We're not gonna take it!"
  
  And he gives a fuelled performance.
  
  > Thunderous applause.
  The stage lights dim, and the audience begins to chatter. That was the end of the performances, and a winner would soon be decided.
  
  But before that, I knew I had to talk to the band one more time.
  
  I weave through the audience and make my way backstage. I see the four capybaras standing near the stage entrance. Mittens band was still lugging away their equipment off the stage.
  
  "Your performance was great!" I begin. "No one could tell you only planned it today."
  
  "Thank you!" they sing in unison.
  
  "Improvisation is our strong suit," says Lolo.
  
  "And we did practice a lot," adds Ter. "Changing it up a bit wasn't hard."
  
  The last to leave the stage is K-pop Glitter Mittens himself. He looks rather sour.
  
  "What's the matter?" asks Pat.
  
  "The matter? The audience was barely impressed!"
  
  "They sounded impressed to me," notes Nak.
  
  "That doesn't surprise me. Look, I performed after you, they could've showed more appreciation!"
  
  "Everyone loved it, Mittens," I say. "Don't be too harsh on yourself."
  
  "I'm not being harsh. What about your capybara's performance? Did everyone love that too?"
  
  "Of course!"
  
  "And that's the problem! I just hope this audience's reaction doesn't confuse the judges." Shaking his head, Mitten heads to one of the back rooms.
  
  William hops on over, "We'll be announcing the winner soon, you should go back to your seat."
  
  "Right, I will." I turn to band as he hops away. "Regardless of who wins, you done a great job today."
  
  "Thank you," they say.
  
  "See you after the winner is announced," says Lolo, and the others nod.
  
  I get back to my seat just in time to see the stage once again bathed in light.
  
  > A winner is announced.
  William walks onto the lit stage, and speaks, "After careful consideration, our judges have decided on a winner! Some of you might've even talked to them and helped them reach a decision. Now, without further ado, I present to you the winner of this year's music competition," he pauses for dramatic effect. "K-pop Glitter Mittens!"
  
  The crowd cheers.
  
  Mittens strides onto the stage, followed by his crew. He holds out his arms, smiling brilliantly. "Thank you, one and all, for coming here today to bask in my brilliance!"
  
  I head backstage to find the band, leaving Mittens to his theatrics. I don't need to see how he'll react to the trophy they're about to wheel out.
  
  But backstage, it is the band who finds me, running up excitedly.
  
  "The judges loved our performance!" shouts Pat.
  
  "They offered some feedback too," adds Ter.
  
  "Next year we'll win for sure!" says Nak.
  
  "That's great!" I respond. "But winning isn't everything, what matters is to have fun."
  
  "But wanting to do better is good!" counters Lolo.
  
  "Of course!" I respond with a smile.
  
  Members of the audience begin to leave the theatre.
  
  "We best go find our parents," says Pat. "I saw where they were sitting. It'll be easier now than when everyone is outside."
  
  "Oh, good idea," says Nak.
  
  The four of them turn to me, and sing out, "Goodbye!"
  
  "Thank you for helping us."
  
  "And for watching our performance."
  
  With a smile I bid them farewell, as they go to find their parents.
  
  Outside the venue, I saw Mittens surrounded by his fans.
  
  > Waited to ask him about the missing instruments.
  I wait nearby as the crowd slowly shrinks. When there are only a few left, Mitten claps his hands. "I'm afraid I'll be going, but I'd be glad if you catch me at my next performance!"
  
  The declaration prompts a number of 'awws', but the crowd begins to disperse. Mitten is soon standing amid his crew, and after telling them something he heads away. I follow after him. "Excuse me, Mittens."
  
  "Sorry, I-" he stops, turning. "It's you. But where are the little ones?"
  
  "With their families."
  
  "And what brings you to me?"
  
  "I'd like to ask you about their missing instruments."
  
  "Oh? I have nothing to say about that, other than that it didn't matter. They still performed well enough to fall into consideration for winning. Can you believe it? But the judges made the right choice in the end."
  
  "Did you take their instruments?" I ask.
  
  "Do you suspect me?" there's sudden agitation in his tone.
  
  "Yes."
  
  "Well, you're right! I guess that's why you're a detective? Huh? But I didn't take anything. I just...moved them."
  
  "That's still stealing."
  
  His eyes narrow. "No, I didn't steal anything. Do you know where they kept their instruments? At night they'd leave them on a roof! Not a house roof, a metal shed roof. The sheet they covered them with barely done its job, on account of being riddled with holes! The whole display was just beside the road, too, looking like trash."
  
  "What's your point?"
  
  "I was just cleaning up the streets."
  
  "So you hid the drums and trumpet in the warehouse?"
  
  "I didn't do anything wrong; I don't know how the instruments got to wherever they ended up."
  
  "That so?"
  
  "But look, I do have places to be. This conversation is over." He leaves.
  
  It seems he is responsible but is hiding behind an excuse. Or...it seemed to be an excuse.
  
  It was time to make this an official investigation. It was time to go to the police department.
  
  > Mister Emerson.
  The station was large. White pillars held up the tiled roof, tinted windows peaking out between them. The walls themselves were beige, a rather unassuming colour. A large depiction of a police badge hung over the door. Blue and white.
  
  Inside I move past the pigs at desks heading straight to my boss's office.
  
  I barge in as I knock. The Rottweiler, Mister Emerson, my boss, was on the phone.
  
  "I'll call you back later," he says, hanging up. "Madame Raccoon, what can I do for you? I thought today was your day off?"
  
  I explain everything that has happened.
  
  "Well, I don't know if I consider that a confession," he says. "But, as always, you make it sound worth investigating."
  
  "I'd like a search of Mitten's mansion, to see if he is holding onto the remaining instruments."
  
  "Right, right. I think you've done enough for today, so I'll set up a formal investigation to take it from here."
  
  "He could get rid of the instruments! We need to act fast."
  
  "Calm down. I'll set up a team right away. But first, we should talk about...a reward for you."
  
  And that was where my role in the investigation ended.
  
  The reward I received was a paid work vacation. I got to experience three months of life in a small village near the desert frontier. The sun there was wonderful...even if it wasn't my ideal sort of vacation.
  
  "But what happened to Mittens?" asked Miz.
  
  Ah, yes. When I returned, I asked Mister Emerson about it. The investigation had gone cold, as the instruments had turned up the day after. No other musical instruments had gone missing since then either, so if Mittens was responsible, he had learnt his lesson.
  
  But that doesn't matter. What matters was the day of that competition, and the experience which would stay with the band, and me, ever since.
  
  And that is the end of this tale, about the Capi's band and their missing instruments.
  
  > say "The End."
  "I loved the Cap band- Coon. But I found it really sad that they didn't win, and Mittens received the trophy instead," Mandy comments with a sad smile on her face.
  
  "Oh, guys, just like with Elvis and the other stories, there are many ways to win, and not always getting the trophy can be better. The Capi band had their farm, their family, and their instruments and friends. For years they would happily perform for others, and to support orphans and victims of catastrophes."
  
  "I think I understand what you mean, Coon," Miz comments judiciously, thinking about the moral of the story.
  
  Matt nods seriously. "As mother tells us, friendship necklaces are the symbol that we help each other and that we return favours. There is no more extraordinary gift that one can receive."
  
  "Speaking of gifts, I received a lovely one after the concert." With her gloating fingers, she points to a cabinet above the fireplace. "Do you see what's inside, guys?"
  
  The three kittens stand on tiptoe on the comfortable sofa to see the showcase.
  
  "Oh, that's the elegant red hat the singer of the band wore to the tournament!" Mandy screams excitedly, accompanied by the enthusiastic slaps of her two siblings.
  
  "The band gave it to me as a thank you for my help. I've kept it all these years." A mischievous smile appears on Madame Racoon's features. "But now I told you before that I had some gifts for you," Coon says mysteriously as the three rambunctious kids try to guess what she is picking up in the nearby closet.
  
  > say "It's one ball for everyone,"
  Coon hands each a packet wrapped in brightly coloured paper that glows even more in the light from the fireplace.
  
  Matt, as always, was the first to open his gift. "Oh, it's a blue wool scarf! Thanks Coon, now I can go warm to school!"
  
  Mandy is the next to unwrap her gift. She says nothing but a giant smile appears on her face when she sees the beautiful yellow wool mittens, her favourite colour, with embroidered flowers.
  
  Miz, always the most patient of her siblings, turns the package, trying not to break the excellent gift paper.
  
  "Come on, Miz, just once, we want to know what you got!" Matt pouts, trying to open his sister's gift.
  
  "Miz, open the package Now!" Mandy pouts at her sister.
  
  "Leave Miz be, children. Do not overwhelm her. It is her gift after all," Coon says while gently smiling at Miz.
  
  Finally, the judicious kitten managed to open the package without damaging the precious packaging, and in her shaking hands appeared a beautiful journal lined with a beautiful bound embroidering in a beautiful pink and white lace that Coon had made by hand.
  
  "Thank you very much Coon, I have always wanted my journal to write my own stories in."
  
  A distant booming noise sounded out in the middle of the ice storm. Coon suddenly says, "Now, kids, the storm is raging. It's time for you to have a hot chocolate and go to bed."
  
  A little later, with the children already snoring well covered in their bunks, Coon looked outside through the window. "Hopefully, everything is good, old friend, Mama Cat. And I hope you don't get mad that I told the story of your great-uncle Glitter. Your family has improved a lot over the years, and you shouldn't be ashamed."