“Next?” said the bank teller.
A large man approached the counter. He was dressed in feathers, skins and furs of various animals, and an alarm clock dangled from his golden neck chain. His beard was braided, beaded and dyed in competing hues. Atop his headdress sat a stern, ornately saddled great horned owl, and on that saddle sat a mouse in a fez.
“I am Nangtar, last of the Omniscients!” announced the mouse in a commanding if high-pitched voice. “Fulfill the requirements of this scroll, gold keeper!” Without a word, the man slid a withdrawal slip over to her.
Transfixed on the strange trio, she picked up the withdrawal slip, her eyes darting over the account numbers only long enough to tap them out. The account checked out, and she began counting out the money.
The mouse cleared his throat. “Is it possible to have that in ducats?” he asked. “I’m not fond of the new polymers.”
“Uh, no,” said the teller, realizing only then that her mouth was still hanging open. “We don’t have ducats.”
“Also the new artwork is all weird now. Laurier looks more like Trudeau or something.”
“I could give this to you in old paper twenties…?” she suggested.
“Yes,” said the mouse. “I wish to have the funds in paper!”
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“Ogmire is also quick with numbers,” said the mouse. “Ogmire, quickly! 5 minus 3?” The owl sternly hooted twice, stamping his right foot each time. The mouse held his arms aloft grandiosely. The man applauded exactly four times.
“Four hundred,” said the teller, handing over the cash. As the man put the funds into a box, the mouse cleared his throat again.
“Is there anything else?” asked the teller.
“Um,” said the mouse, awkwardly now. “I find you comely. Have you any… plans for New Year’s Eve? Last of the Omniscients… As I said… from before…”
“Oh, uh…” she said. “Yes. I have plans.”
“Of course,” mumbled the mouse. “Presumptuous of me.”
Later in his Yorkville apartment, after his man and owl had nodded off, Nangtar finished their left-over Swiss Chalet and vowed to do things differently next year.
