I’ll be in here if you need me. Leftober pamcakes from yesterdays meeting are on the kitchen counter, and the maple syrup is in the fridge.
Today marks the grand finale ob the long and legendary birffday celebrashuns—a week filled wiff joy, surprises, and cheese in all its glorious forms. We’re wrapping it all up in classic style: wiff a traditional party, hats on heads, paws on the table, and one final cake to rule them all.
This masterpiece ob a dessert was lovingly crafted, baked wiff cheese ganache and pure hope—each layer stacked wiff dreams, and frosted wiff joy. The candles flickered, the brothers cheered, and Baxter, beaming from ear to tuft, made a wish that probably involbed adbenture, unity, and more Broadway dreams.
If this was a scene in the show, it would go somefing like dis:
[Scene: A cozy corner café, decked out wiff glowing string lights, balloons, and banners reading “Happy Birffday Baxter!” Reuben is finishing setting the last place setting. Fish sneaks a pawful of grated cheese. Waffles clears his throat and taps a spoon against a teacup.]
Waffles (singing):
🎶 It’s a birffday wiff a B, bring the cake and harmony!
We’ve traveled far and traveled wide,Now we party by your side! 🎶
Barry (singing, stepping out shyly):
🎶 I wrote this chord just late last night,
A little tune wiff cheese and Light Leaded DesignsBaxter, you’re the bravest soul,
You make this messy world feel whole. 🎶
[Reuben tosses streamers and hums a harmony while arranging pastries. Fish pops up on a cupcake stand, spinning a tiny cheese wheel.]
Fish (singing, with a spin):
🎶 I mapped each wedge, each rind, each cabe,
But you, dear Bax, are the one I crabe—
For snacks, for laughs, for time machine dibes,
You keep us bold, you keep dreams alibe! 🎶
[Cue soft jazz swell. Baxter enters dramatically through a beaded curtain, wearing his birthday crown, looking both regal and completely surprised.]
Baxter (singing, with deep Broadway gravitas):
🎶 Two years strong and still I roam,
Fru crumbs ob time, dis crown, dis home!
Brothers close, our tale’s not done—
We ride the wind, we chase the sun! 🎶
[The brothers circle Baxter, gently swaying. Cake is brought out—sparkling, grand, wiff frosting made of cheese ganache and pure hope. Lights dim except for a glowing spotlight on the cake.]
All (in harmony):
🎶 Blow the candles, make a wish,
One more slice upon your dish.From tiny paws to mighty leaps,
Baxter’s tale is one that keeps…
On dancing fru the alley breeze…
On singing fru the smell ob cheese…
He’s the rat who dares to be—
The star wiffin our symphony! 🎶
[Confetti falls (parmesan). Final pose. Fish waves a cheese flag. Lights fade out to warm golden glow. Curtain.]
In the glittering bastness ob space, somewhere between the Andromeda Galaxy and a really good cheese shop, a second alien birthday bash was underway —Baxter and Pockets actual birthday is April 2nd, so it’s a long weekend full ob festibities. Dis crew ob intergalactic rat ambassadors just landed via flying saucer for a celebration like no other. Sporting stylish antennae hats in cosmic greens and purples, these tiny space-trabelers gathered around a bowl overflowing wiff the universal delicacy: peas. Their message to Larry’s planet was clear, spelled out on tiny signs held wiff proud paws: “We Come Wiff Peas.”
The mood was festive, the air scented wiff joy and legumes, as the rats mingled beneaff a starry sky. Some nibbled peas, others posed for interstellar snapshots, while one particularly diplomatic rat attempted to negotiate a trade deal inbolbing cheese wedges and moon rocks. It was more than a birthday—it was a declaration ob friendship, a celebration ob unity, and a reminder that no matter how far you travel across the galaxy, peas and parties bring eberyone together.
Baxter and his brothers celebrated their second birthday right this year. But this wasn’t just any party—it was alien themed, hosted by their eccentric (and very real) alien friend Larry, who’d promised to make it “the most intergalactically unforgettable experience in the galaxy.” Wink and Pocket, their sisters, had spent all morning helping Larry decorate: foil streamers, glowing meteor balloons, and glow-in-the-dark cow stickers plastered every wall. Reuben even helped Larry hang tiny paper UFOs from the ceiling fans, though several of them had already spun off and gently smacked Barry in the face.
As guests arrived—so many people who loved them, rats and neighborhood critters like Scooty Joon—Larry triggered the fog machine and dimmed the lights. “Commencing birthday protocol,” he announced in his buzzy translator voice, and a laser light show began, complete wiff sparkles, space sounds, and a hologram of Saturn doing a little dance. In the middle of it all, Fish squeaked in joy, pointing out the cheese-shaped craters on the projected moon. “This one’s Camembert Mare,” he whispered reverently, taking notes for his cheese map.
Suddenly, the cake creaked open, and a tractor beam—just a tiny one—shone down on the table. “Initiating cow obduction!” Larry chirped. From above, small cows descended slowly into the beam, mooing mechanically as they floated skyward. Wink clapped her paws in delight while Pocket chased after one of the cows, determined to save it from the “clutches of the cosmos.”
After the games, cake (glow-in-the-dark icing, of course), and a round of “Pin the Eye on the Alien,” Mom and Dad gathered everyone around the birthday ring of stars. One by one, each sibling shared something they loved about being part of the crew. Waffles, quiet for once, mumbled, “I like when we’re all together like this.” Reuben passed him a fizzy space soda without a word. Baxter looked around, grabbed Pockets hand, fur fluffed out from excitement and sugar, and smiled.
As the sun set over the hills and stars began to twinkle in the real sky, the crowd lit up their tiny souvenir “beam lights” and waved them in rhythm to a surprise encore performance: the boys singing “Fru Time, Wiff Cheese and Lub,” backed by Larry on space synthesizer. It was sparkly, weird, and absolutely perfect.
Everyone agreed it was the kind of party you’d only get to attend once in a lifetime—or maybe once every couple of lightyears.We hope eberyone had a good time!
On Thursdays in New York, Baxter wears his crown wiff pride. It’s not just for show—oh no. That crown means somethin’. Because if you’re king (and he is), you get perks. Royal perks. Like a free pretzel wiff your hot dog.
So there he is—perched at a table in front ob the cart that smells like sizzling onions and sidewalk dreams, jewel-encrusted crown glinting in the city sun. In one paw: a warm, salty pretzel. In the other: a perfectly mustarded hot dog. A nearby pigeon looks on, equal parts curious and enbious, but this meal? This moment? It’s strictly for kings.
Baxter takes a bite, chews slowly, and gazes out at the rush of yellow cabs and cart steam. He doesn’t say much—but his eyes say, “This is New York, baby. And I’m royalty here.”
After today’s matinee, we sniffed out somefing special. Real special. Word on the street was that a secret sushi pop-up called Sushi Sam by Rattybox had appeared for one day only. Naturally, we bolted straight there—I still had my stage whiskers on, and Fish brought his emergency wasabi pouch (standard protocol).
It was hidden down an alley, the kind you wouldn’t look twice at, unless you’ve got a nose for magic—and I do. What we found? Plush sushi pods. I’m talkin’ cozy, sesame-dotted, hug-you-while-you-chew sushi-shaped hideouts. I tucked himself into a giant maki roll like it was a velvet frone. Fish? He claimed the onigiri-shaped nook and refused to come out. Said it “smelled like dreams and rice.”
Now the food. Oh, the food.Tiny rainbow beggie rolls that somehow managed to taste like fibe seasons at once. Crispy sesame bites that shattered in your mouff wiff a gentle crnch and left behind this sweet-nutty linger that made Fish tear up a little. Fish said, “dis is what falling in love tastes like,” and honestly? He’s not wrong.
We munched, we nibbled, we nested. Fish tried to barter cheese for more sesame crunchies. Didn’t work, but the effort was noble.
Sushi Sam wasn’t just a meal. It was a moment. And like all good pop-ups… it vanished as suddenly as it arribed. Fank you to Rattybox for creating dis New York magic.
As eberybody knows, Mondays are a night off on Broadway, so we used some trabel juice and did some Internashunal bizness up in Alaska. Ob course we had to stay and see the northern lights – and boy did we get a great show! It was nice to hab a little break after working so hard on our show. Mother Nature’s show tonight was almost as good as Baxter Wiff a B!
We also met some super nice bears who caught fresh salmon for us – they were total pros, just scoopin’ ‘em right outta the water like it was no big deal. Fanks, bears!
Fank you to Kat Hagen for dis nice relaxing trip for Alaska bizness!
P.S. The fresh salmon is sooo tasty!
(Smash cut to: A bustling Broadway street. Posters of famous shows line the buildings—Hamilton, Wicked, Phantom… and then—one small, handwritten sign on a dark, forgotten theater.) **Remember, dis is in the play, not the reality ob dis play being in the big New Amsterdam theater you’re sitting in now.
NOW PLAYING: “BAXTER WIFF A B”!
(The brothers stand in front of the theater, staring at the sign. It’s small. It’s scrappy. It’s not one of the big-name shows… yet. But it’s theirs.)
Baxter (smirking, staring at the sign):
“You know… I fink this is gonna work.”
Reuben (hands in pockets):
“Well, it better. I already started selling t-shirts.”
Waffles:
“And I already signed an autograph deal.”
Barry (clutching his script, bouncing):
“And I wrote three ballads in the past hour!”
(Fish watches his brothers. The chaos. The energy. The ridiculousness of it all. He shakes his head, but this time—)
(He smiles and nibbles some cheese.)
Fish:
“Ok – Let’s do dis together!! Let’s take Broadway. But if this turns into Cats, I’m leaving.”
FINAL CURTAIN DROP. LIGHTS OUT.
“Baxter Wiff a B” – The Showstopping Finale
(After a quick montage ob all the show preparation —after the journey through Broadway’s past, after proving himself, after defying every single doubt thrown his way—this is Baxter’s moment. The show is a triumph. The audience is on their feet. And now, the final number brings it all home.)
(The orchestra strikes up a bold, brassy overture. A mix of classic Broadway flair and modern energy—big horns, soaring strings, tap-dancing rhythms. The lights are golden, sparkling like the city itself.)
(Baxter stands center stage, his brothers beside him. The Marquee B is fully lit above them, glowing like a beacon. This is the final number. The moment they own the stage.)
[Opening Verse – Baxter Owns It]
🎶 They said a rat like me could never stand in the light,
“Stay down in the gutters, kid, Broadway ain’t your type!”
But I bopped and I scampered, I danced and I dreamed—
And now da whole world is clappin’ for me!
(The chorus kicks in—full blast. Baxter steps forward, belting wiff confidence, wiff joy, wiff the power of ebery dreamer who dared to believe.)
[Chorus – The Signature Hook]
🎶 I’m Baxter wiff a B, I’m big, I’m bold!
I’m takin’ my shot, I’m breakin’ the mold!
They said “rats don’t belong,” they laughed and they sneered—
But now I’m the name dat da whole world cheers!
(The brothers join in—each one bringing their own flair.)
Waffles (jazz hands, dramatic spins):
🎶 He’s Baxter wiff a B, da dream is alive!
🎶 From da gutters to da spotlight, now we thrive!
Barry (cool, laid-back, arms crossed but smirking):
🎶 Yeah, Baxter wiff a B, dat name’s on da marquee!
🎶 Broadway’s for da bold, and dat bold is he!
(The *ensemble kicks in—pigeons, old Broadway ghosts (Olibe), random stagehands—*ALL CELEBRATING. The stage fills wiff energy. The music swells.)
[Bridge – The Heart of the Dream]
(The tempo slows slightly, just for a moment—Baxter stands alone at center stage. The orchestra hushes. The lights dim, leaving just a spotlight on him.)
🎶 It ain’t just da lights, it ain’t just da fame…
It ain’t just a dream, it ain’t just a name…
It’s da moments we live for, da stories we spin…
It’s family, it’s music—it’s da fire wiffin…
(And then—)
THE MUSIC SURGES BACK.
🎶 So clap wiff me, sing wiff me, dance till ya drop—
Dis rat is a legend—and I ain’t gonna stop!
(A tap-break happens. The brothers get pulled into a big, ridiculous dance number. Reuben tries to escape but gets caught in a kickline of pigeons. Barry begrudgingly throws in a jazzy spin. Waffles is thriving. The theater is electric.)
[Final Chorus – The Ultimate Broadway Moment]
🎶 I’m Baxter wiff a B, I’m big, I’m bold!
I’m takin’ my shot, I’m breakin’ da mold!
They said “rats don’t belong,” they laughed and they sneered—
But now I’m da name dat da whole world cheers!
(The crowd is clapping along. The lights flash. The orchestra swells to its peak. This is the moment—this is Broadway history.)
[The Big Finish – A Star is Born]
🎶 So mark dis day, remember my name—
I came for Broadway, and I CHANGED DA GAME!
🎶 “I’M BAXTER WIFF A BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” 🎶
💥 FINAL NOTE. THE MUSIC SLAMS TO A CLOSE.
(Baxter stands center stage, paws outstretched. The curtain falls. The lights burst into gold. The audience is on their feet, roaring.)
(The rats did it. They took Broadway. The Marquee B glows one last time—forever part of Broadway history.)
BLACKOUT. CURTAIN CALL. THE DREAM IS REAL.
___________________
Thank you for coming.
Please stop by Fish’s curated cheese table on your way out.