WHAT I AM

AUTHOR'S NOTES: One of the first stories I ever wrote about GMD after I saw the movie for the first time was that of the character Fidget. I have to thank my dear friend Reyelene for giving me the inspiration to write a biography about one of Disney's most underappreciated characters.

However, on a blistering August afternoon, I took a look at my fanfic, & shook my head in dismay. Although I had been complimented on "Fidget's Story" many times (& to this day, I still appreciate the critique), I began to dislike the way it had been written, particularly the superfluous repetition, the bland, colorless style of writing, & the poor character development.

Thus, I have decided to rewrite our favorite animated bat's biography; not to shun away the masterpiece I have created so long ago, but to give it new life. I hope you will enjoy the rejuvenated version of "Fidget's Story".

All GMD characters, especially Fidget, belong to Disney. Matthew Lowell, Fanny, & all other characters are mine.

As the adopted son of one of London's smartest mice, I've been introduced to a lot of great authors in the many years I've lived with him. Tennyson, Nietzsche, Poe, & Braveheart are some of my favorites, but the one who will always have a special place in my heart is none other than Oscar Wilde.

Why do you like him so much? the kids at Basil Of Baker Street Jr. High School ask me. He says a lot of contradictory, intellectual things, & we all know you're not the sharpest knife in the butchery! Wilde may be confusing, guys, but he says a lot of meaningful stuff if you think hard enough about what he's trying to say.

"The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible," is one of Wilde's most famous quotes. Basically, what he means is that instead of spending your time wondering about ghosts & angels, you should think a lot more about the things you see every day. I mean, scientists may be able to explain the process of how the body works, but you can't help but think to yourself, how do those little bitty electrons get a big brain to function like that? And computers seem so simple at first, but you're still wondering, what really makes them tick?

See, that's what Wilde's saying here. Don't focus on the supernatural & paranormal all the time; give yourself a moment to reflect on the mysteries of everyday life. Like your friends at school; you think you know them like the back of your paw, but then again, you probably don't. What I mean is...never mind, I'm probably boring you to death with all this philosophical mumbo-jumbo. Now let's get back on topic, shall we?

Anyway, Wilde says something to the effect that true mysteries can be found in everyday life. Take your friend & Humble Narrator, for example; lots of people think they know me, but only a select few (& I think you know who those are) have gained access to the secrets of my life. I don't tell anyone else about it for fear of ridicule & rejection, but you lucky readers are an exception. And hopefully, by the time I've finished telling you my story, you'll see me in a light you never have before.

Well, here goes nothing...

I don't know much about my mother, Eleanor Batterson. The only thing I can remember about her from the day she dropped me off at St. Mary's Orphanage (now a youth hostel) was that she had black hair & yellow eyes. I was later told by the orphanage caretakers that she was a prostitute from New Orleans who died shortly after I had been dropped off; at first I thought she abandoned me because she didn't love me, but as I have recently discovered, she cared enough to keep me from following in her footsteps as a rodent of easy virtue.

But being a kid back then, with very little knowledge of things, I didn't know Eleanor really had feelings for me, & because of my ignorance of this fact, I was an awfully bitter child. Mother Caulfield, the head nun at St. Mary's, tells me I was often rough with other kids & had a fiery temper; I also was very nervous & jittery, which is how I got the name "Fidget". (A rather clever twist of fate, wouldn't you say?)

Nevertheless, the first few years of my life were spent at St. Mary's, but one day, shortly after I had turned 3, a strange businessmouse with brown hair & green eyes came to the orphanage. He said he wanted to adopt me. You can imagine how happy I was when I heard him say it; I was going to a new home with a new life in store for me. Or so I thought...

Immediately after the businessmouse, whose name I eventually discovered was Matthew Lowell, signed the paperwork & picked me up in his arms, I was taken to a strange-looking building with ominous smokestacks rising from its rooftop. Then I was given dirty clothes to wear & forced to work in Matthew's factory.

Life at the sweatshop was a living hell for us kids who worked there. We all worked from the moment we got up to 10:00 at night, sometimes even later. We weren't given many provisions; & when we did eat, it was usually something yucky like gruel or old biscuits. And since the new technology didn't come until many years later, we had no air conditioning, & we often sweated like pigs in the intense heat.

But that wasn't the worst thing that happened at the factory. Not only were we whipped & flogged when we stopped working, but conditions at the sweatshop were horrible; many times, when we worked, we would get into accidents involving the machinery, causing us to have certain body parts amputated, among other gruesome things. And that is how I received my peg-leg; I remember that horrible moment as though it were just yesterday...

It was now 1890, & the fifth anniversary of my hiring by Matthew Lowell. I had just turned 8 years old, & despite all my years of working in the factory, I was quite bumbling, not to mention I had a low self-esteem...Regardless, I was busy doing my job, working at a massive machine that cut up wood with this big circular saw. There was a piece of cedar wood Matthew Lowell had given to me to slice, but for some reason, the machine wouldn't do its job. Getting frustrated & eager to please Lowell, I worked the controls furiously, but they became jammed, & the saw broke off, landing square on my right leg.

When the kids heard the sound of metal slicing raw flesh, they turned around & gasped when they saw the situation I was in. One of them, an older friend of mine named Fanny, rushed up to me, asking, "Fidget, my boy, are ye all roight?" As you can see, I wasn't; the wound began to fester horribly, & I was so scared for myself, I started to sob. I had seen some of the accidents the kids had gotten into, & trust me, it wasn't a pretty sight; some of them died as a result of their injuries!

One of the overseers heard me crying, & dragged me over to the infirmary (if you could call it that). I was placed on a ratty old couch & watched, horrified, as my bleeding leg turned a sickly greenish color. Through my loud weeping, I overheard the doctor tell Matthew & the overseer that my foot would have to be cut off. You can imagine how frightened I was, despite Fanny's attempts to comfort me. All I could do was shut my eyes & brace myself as the blade came down on what was left of my right leg. A short time later, I opened my eyes, only to see that my foot had been replaced with a wooden peg. From that moment on, I could never walk normally again.

And things only got worse for me. Shortly after I got my peg-leg, Queen Mousetoria came up with a set of child labor laws; Matthew's sweatshop defied the regulations, so it had to be shut down. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to live in that hellhole again, but I was also dejected—all the kids (except for Fanny, who went to live on the streets) were taken in by loving families, except for me! And why did they not adopt me? Because I was a freaky-looking bat with a peg-leg! Thus, like Fanny, I had to make my own way in life, wandering across the city.

Street life in Mousetorian London was even worse than my time at the sweatshop. Pickpockets & prostitutes—just like my mother—roamed the alleys & avenues, as well as grubby beggars & murderous street Arabs. The scum of the streets soon became my only friends, & I often turned to stealing to get my daily bread. Stealing eventually gave way to working as a hit-bat, as I was sent out to kill innocent rodents (only because I needed the money). Somewhere along the line, I snapped. I don't know exactly what caused it, but for many years after my banishment from the factory, I was no longer an innocent child. I was a devilish delinquent with a sick sense of humor, albeit other horrifying things. My twisted personality would soon change my life, but not as I would have expected...

4 years passed after my horrific incident at the sweatshop; the year was now 1894. I was a malicious 12-year-old, walking through the streets as I looked for unsuspecting victims to mug. Suddenly, as I made my way into an alley, I was ambushed by a gang of thugs. Before I could run away, the street mice pounced upon me & began to beat me up, even giving me the notch in my right ear. Before they could kill me, however, the thugs looked around & ran off, screaming madly.

I turned to gaze at the figure of my rescuer. He was around 14 years old, dressed in a bunch of fancy clothes, complete with a top hat & opera cape. A golden cane was clutched in his gloved paws, & his face, though hideous like mine, bore a disarming smile. I was too shocked to move or say anything. All I could do was stand frozen, only moving to grab a piece of paper the figure had handed to me. Upon the paper, in elegant script, were these words:

Professor Ratigan
Criminal Genius
The sewer lair below the Rat Trap Saloon

This was it! This was my chance to make a name for myself! I turned to thank the rat who had given me the job offer, but he had already gone. But I knew time was of the essence; I had to hurry before the opportunity slipped from my webbed fingers. Immediately, I scampered off through the city, eventually deciding to take a shortcut through Regents Park.

While there, I happened to encounter two mice sleeping on a park bench. One looked like a detective, with a brown invertness cape & a matching deerstalker cap on his head. The other mouse was a young lady, probably a Gypsy (judging by the clothing she wore).

I was feeling a little bored, so I decided to give the girl a little scare, just for the hell of it. I went up to her just as she was waking up, & put on my scariest face ever! Then I dashed off to the East End, doing the best I could not to be seen by anyone else. (I didn't wanna get a scolding for scaring a young lady out of her wits!)

Shortly after my little misadventure at the park, I finally got to the Rat Trap Saloon. (You may know of it as a family restaurant, but it wasn't always that way, of course.) Nevertheless, I made my way into the bar, & you won't believe what I found! Smoke & fog filled the saloon, making the air smell icky & unfit for breathing. On the stage, showgirls in skimpy clothing danced around, singing for leering, lustful men. All kinds of ne'er-do-wells, ranging from hookers to sailors, hung around, playing poker, talking, drinking, & flirting with other patrons.

But I didn't come all this way just to look around. I spotted the bartender, a gruff, red-haired sort with a cigar in his mouth, at the drinking counter, & made my way over to him. When he heard that I wanted to see Professor Ratigan, he gasped, & so did everyone else. Apparently, this guy was a really bad dude; don't even ask how I convinced the bartender to open the trapdoor & let me enter the pipes that led to the world below!

To make a long story short, I made my way to the sewer lair, & encountered Professor Ratigan & his many minions. I eventually became a thug as well, but instead of going out to beat someone or pollute the river, I got stuck doing the dirty work, mostly errands, for my boss. It wasn't a glamorous life, but hey, at least I got paid for it, not to mention bed & board.

In fact, I'll take the time to mention how I got my formerly-crippled wing. One day (I believe it was in 1895), Ratigan gave me an assignment to go rob a nearby novelty store & find toys for his thugs' kids to play with. While I was there, I was beat up by the same gang of thugs who had assaulted me earlier; the fight was a lot nastier this time, though. Instead of a notch in the ear, I came out of the battle with a big bag of toys, bruises, cuts, &—you guessed it—a broken wing. My left wing, to be exact.

Now we move on to the second act of the play of my life. 3 years had passed by; now it was 1897. I had moved up a little in Ratigan's hierarchal society, & I had just gotten my big break! I was assigned to kidnap Hiram Flaversham, a local toymaker, & bring him to the boss' lair, where he would be forced to make a robot replica of Queen Mousetoria (I'll explain more about that in just a while). Nevertheless, I was more than glad to do the deed...

So I made my way out into the dark, foggy night. I traveled a long way to get to the West End, but when I arrived on Walnut Avenue, I spotted a sign that said "Flaversham's Toys". That was the place, all right! Chuckling evilly, I made my way to the toy store, only pausing to take a quick peek inside, before going over to try & open the door. It was locked!

Frustrated, I went to the window, & struggled to burst it open. When I finally succeeded, I jumped down to the floor, & began to struggle with the toymaker. He put up a good fight, though; eventually, I had to tie him up & carry him on my back to the hideout. As we left the toy shop, I could hear him call out his daughter's name: Olivia...

Once I got back to the sewer lair & placed Hiram in his prison (where he would work on the robot), I decided to take a nice, long nap. About an hour later, I was suddenly startled by the sound of my boss screaming out my name. Spooked, I fell to the floor, but I wasn't dazed for long; I paid attention as Ratigan gave me the list of tools I needed to get for Hiram to use. I looked over it quickly, then scampered off to the human's toy store nearby.

It took all of the next morning for me to retrieve the items on the list: I had to get some tiny tools, steal gears from some giant clockwork toys, & finally nab uniforms off a set of toy soldiers. But just as I crossed off the things off my list, I realized I was missing the last, but ever-so crucial, item: Hiram's daughter Olivia! Before I could go out to look for her, however, I heard the familiar howling of a dog in the distance, heralding the arrival of a certain mouse. Knowing that Basil Of Baker Street, my boss' archenemy, would soon be here, I grabbed the last of the uniforms, stuffed them in my bag, & headed for the safety of the rafters.

As I stayed in my hiding place, I could see that Basil was indeed at the toy store, along with this chubby mouse & a familiar-looking girl. That was the kid Ratigan wanted me to kidnap! Making sure not to be seen, I turned on all the toys I could find. When the three mice were distracted, I hid inside a cradle, waited for Olivia, then jumped out & grabbed her! Basil started to chase me, but I managed to get away with all the items. (To keep from going into ramblings, I won't discuss the incident involving my only foot.)

After making sure Olivia was properly imprisoned, I went over to discuss the plans for the evening—the night Ratigan intended to become king of the mice—with my boss. However, when I prepared to show him my checked-off shopping list, my blood ran cold. It was gone! I searched myself frantically for the paper, but in vain. An enraged Ratigan attempted to strike me, but suddenly calmed down. I was so relieved, but only for a moment—Felicia had come to swallow me! I tried desperately to get away, but only when Ratigan ordered that the big cat spit me out, was I spared from a grisly doom.

That night, at around 9:00, I was feeling thirsty, so Ratigan gave me permission to go to the Rat Trap (still a saloon) to get a pint to drink, just so I could relax a little from the exhausting day I had had. But just as soon as I had taken the last sip of my Rodent's Delight, I ran back for the hideout; a huge brawl had broken out in the bar, & I didn't want to get caught in the crossfire. And since Basil & the chubby mouse (dressed as pirats) were at the Rat Trap, I thought I could lead them over to put my boss' "Plan B" into action.

And it worked! Once the two guys found me in Olivia's outfit, I escaped out of the bottle, & put the girl back inside, as I went over to change into my evening outfit—a yeomouse's garb. Then I watched, impressed, as Ratigan showed off the overkill trap he & his dad, Mouses Fiennes (the real brains behind the whole operation), had built together to try & kill Basil. After the demonstration, I got out Ratigan's dirigible, & took Ratigan, Hiram, & the thugs (disguised as royal guards) to Buckingham Palace, where our glorious plan would unfold...

And do you know what my role in the scheme was? You guessed right—to bring Queen Mousetoria over to Felicia & watch her get gobbled up like a turkey at Thanksgiving! But just before I could carry out the deed, you won't believe who came to rescue Her Majesty! None other than Basil, the chubby mouse, & Olivia!

Managing to escape the hunger-induced wrath of Felicia (with the help of Toby), I tried to help the other thugs defeat the mice & the Queen, but we were outnumbered 5 to 3! Queen Mousetoria eventually tied me up, but when she went out to help the others bring Ratigan down, I escaped from my bondage, grabbed Olivia, & brought her up to the balcony, where Ratigan caught her. We all went to the dirigible, pedaling for the hideout like crazy. Well, I did all the hard work, as usual.

Suddenly, I gasped. Basil, Hiram, & the chubby mouse were flying in a hot-air balloon of their own! They chased us all around the city, but we managed to elude them. By then, I was getting extremely tired. I asked Ratigan if we could "lighten the load" by pushing Olivia off the dirigible. But for some reason I can't quite understand to this day, Ratigan decided to alter my wishes by grabbing me by the ears & pushing me off the balloon! Having a crippled wing at the moment, I couldn't fly, so I fell down towards the waters of the Thames River.

As I plummeted through the air, I prayed to God that I would survive my fall, but deep in my heart, I felt it would all be in vain, as a result of my malicious behavior during the last few years. I felt freezing-cold water rushing over my fur, then struggled to swim for the surface. I eventually came up out of the river, soaking wet, but alive. Grabbing a piece of driftwood, I paddled my way towards the riverbank, where I could rest a little from my exhaustive ordeal.

Around 6 minutes later—precisely at 10:00—I heard mad screaming sounding out. I looked up to see my boss hurtling through the air, his clothes ripped & torn everywhere. I quickly shut my eyes as his body made contact with the water, then opened them as soon as I could hear him flopping onto the cobblestone sidewalk, dripping with water.

Quickly, I wrapped Ratigan up in what was left of his opera cape, then dragged him towards the sewer grate that would lead us home.

Ever since that fateful moment, I stayed with Ratigan all through those stressful hours, nursing him back to health & eventually reforming with the former criminal. To this day, Ratigan & I have become brothers (in a way) & members of the Baker Street Family. You probably know all about that, so I guess there's no need to explain further.

Nonetheless, as I have mentioned before, there is more to me than meets the eye. And I'm sure that by the time you reflect upon my words, no longer will you think of me as a freak with an irredeemable soul. You'll see me as a bat who has managed to overcome the many obstacles in his life. You'll see me as a bat with the strength to move past his mistakes, no matter how painful. And most of all, you'll see me as God intended you to see me: a bat who can change.