Don't You Dare Deny Me was my very first Fidget pastiche created in 2002, and the same story that gave birth to The Fidget Connections Cast. For as long as I've seen the movie, I had a vision about what would take place after Fidget was tossed in the River Thames. That vision was to reform him while keeping true to his character ... with the aide of someone who'd be a perfect match: Deniece la Chauve-souris (for we all know that he simply can't resist a woman). Originally, the story was nine pages long and intended to be short and simple. But when I read it with a fresh pair of eyes, I realized that it needed more, for it wasn't easy to describe Fidget's background without some basis of feasibility. After gaining new insight on the character and re-writing the story with new eyes, here is the story that started it all. Fidget belongs to Disney, the name "James" was used with permission by Mlle. Relda, Deniece and all other characters belong to me.
Chapter 1: Encounter With a Stranger
It was close to performance time at The Rat Trap. All the lady performers waited backstage while fixing their hair and makeup. They only paused to engage in gossip.
"Do you think she'll show up?" asked an albino mouse.
"Who?" replied a golden-brown mouse.
"That girl. Deniece la Chauve-souris."
"Of course she'll be here," replied a black female mouse. "That hussy never misses a performance!"
"She's a nocturnal fox," added another. "They're whores by nature! Why else would they only be awake at night? She probably lures men to her secret den and sucks them dry! How can they think she's pretty? She has the eyes of a cat, ears of an elephant, and the face of a jackal!"
"The jackal is also French," said the black one. "You know how French women are, especially a nocturnal fox! They're snobbish, filthy, and evil!"
"Not as evil as your verds!"
The conversation came to a halt. All turned to meet the gaze of a dark-haired mouse in lace-decorated clothing. "Behold, ladies!" one mocked. "Its the jackal's friend, Lacey!"
The mouse's real name was Raisa Dalton, but everyone called her Lacey because she wore dresses with lace-filled collars and hems (which made her look more like a school girl). She had a soft Hungarian accent and dark violet eyes. "You delight in speaking poorly of a girl who isn't here to defend herself," Lacey continued in spite of the ladies mockery. "I know Deniece and she's an innocent voman."
"Poor, naive Lacey," replied one of the girls. "She has the worst luck with people. It's no wonder she got raped!"
Lacey clenched her fists irritably. She didn't know how to properly defend herself in harsh conversation. Her responses often sounded laughable and childish to many. "She saved my life! She risked her own life to protect me! Besides, you're only jealous because men fall for her and not you!"
Her response had no effect. They just laughed and mocked Lacey's friendship with Deniece. It was no use in reasoning with selfish women, she realized. Lacey continued her work in spite of her humiliation.
The conversation ceased when the door behind them swung open with a loud crash. There was a terrible rainstorm outside with ear-splitting thunder. Amid the upheaval, a figure bundled in a thick coat and scarf glided in like a raven. Slowly unwrapping her scarf, the woman revealed her face. It was fox-like with a serene, Mona Lisa expression. Her beauty was far too exotic for a mouse. No, this wasn't a mouse at all! Her ears were large, erect, and attentive as if she could hear winds from miles away. Her eyes were cat-green, yet soft as the weeping willow, bordered by long black eyelashes. Her fur was a dark tone that could only be associated with a native Moroccan. Her hair was butter-toned and reached the mid-section of her back and her side; hair-strands rested upon her breasts. But what convinced others of her un-mousely traits were her arms. After she took off her coat, she spread them open to reveal web-like wings.
"Deniece, dahling!" Lacey rushed to her with open arms and embraced the bat girl. "I'm relieved to see zat you arrived safely!"
"Bon soir埬 Lacey," replied Deniece with a welcoming smile.
The other girls welcomed her with jealous glares and snide comments. "Has the jackal come once again to whore herself with all the men in The Rat Trap?"
Deniece turned her gaze to the mouse who made the remark. "I thought that was your job, Sophie."
Her blunt remark brought silence among the crowd. It was obvious that the mouse called Sophie was insulted. "Watch your tone, jackal!" the mouse retorted. "I'm not a woman you would want to insult!"
"Get accustomed to it, cherie埬" Deniece replied with indifference.
Their immediate silence was like an apple shoved down their throats. Sophie furiously marched up to slap the girl bat in the face. But Deniece's webbed hand caught her wrist before the hand made contact. She gave Sophie an indifferent stare that made her soft green eyes appear cold. Freeing her wrist from the bat's grasp, Sophie suppressed her wounded pride and said no more.
"You're on in ten minutes!" pressed Lacey. "Sit down and I'll fix your hair!"
Deniece strode gracefully to the dressing table like a queen. She handed Lacey a fistful of hair.
"The storm was getting harsh, "said Deniece. "It swept me like an unfastened windmill."
"At least you managed to keep dry. Isn't zat coat a bit heavy for flying?"
"I'm used to it. Besides, I keep the sleeves pinned up until I land on my feet."
"Alright, you're set!" said Lacey. "Go on!"
An eager, yet unimpressed Deniece rose from her seat and stepped onto the stage.
The lanterns dimmed before the teal curtains drew open. An uneasy silence was among the audience until Deniece made her presence. In her glimmering turquoise dress, she gracefully walked toward the edge. They piano played; Deniece opened her mouth to sing:
How does the wine taste?
Does it sting your lips?
What is the fruit like
Just beyond my fingertips?
Smiles popped up on faces like champagne corks. Denieces voice wasn't like other Rat Trap soloists. It was almost operatic with a touch of vibrato, softness of a nightingale, and a triumphant undertone of an unearthly spirit. Yet her timbre was sultry and quite uncommon for an Opera singer.
What would it be like
If I broke the string?
Would it be lovely
And a little frightening?
The sound of Deniece's singing lingered in the ears, mind, and soul like the sound of gentle rain upon thirsty leaves. She slowly strutted across the stage with an occasional swing of the hips, a gesture of the hand, and a wink of the eye. Although her moves were very subtle, it was enough to make the men yell with uncontrolled pleasure.
How does the wine taste?
How does the wine taste?
How does the wine taste?
I think ... I know ... 埼/span
The audience cheered as the curtains closed.
It was the end of the show. Deniece gathered her coat and scarf. Then Lacey appeared. "May I valk viz you, Deniece?"
"That would be wonderful, Lacey," Deniece sighed with relief. "I could use the company."
Deniece and Lacey were the last two to exit the door. Awaiting them both was a drunken mouse. Though his lustful gazes studied both females, his attention was focused on Deniece. "Hey shweetie," he replied. "What d'ya shay we, ah, elope, ya know, go shumplashe, nahishe and-"
Deniece turned her head. The stench of Meade on the mouse's breath was nauseating. "Pardonnez monsieur4, but I think not."
"Aw, come on!" the mouse whined. "I jusht wanna lil kish?"
"I don't kiss strangers," Deniece retorted. "Especially those drunk out of their minds!"
The drunkard laughed as if she made a jest. "Aaww, you're jusht playin' coy!" He placed his hands firmly on Deniece shoulders. She backed away forcefully.
"Are you mad!" she blurted, her tone more angry than before. "I said NO!"
The mouse continued to persist and handle her until he was greeted with a hard strike to his left eye. He screamed as his eye throbbed with pain. Once he regained his equilibrium, he gazed at Deniece in inexplicable horror. Her green eyes were shrunken and her wings stretched, making her anger appear unearthly and demonic.
"Let that be a lesson to you!" Deniece replied. "No man comes near to me without my consent! Touch me again and it'll be the worse for you!"
The mouse wasted no time in obeying her wishes. Frightened of the angry Deniece, he ran away. Through the rest of the walk, Deniece and Lacey engaged in conversation.
"You're a vunderful voman, dahling," started a rather hesitant Lacey, "but you're anger is so unpredictable it frightens me."
Deniece sighed in an exasperated manner. "He would never have stopped if I didn't hit him. I can't help it if it brings out the worst in me."
Deniece was stopped short by Lacey's firm, yet caring grasp on her wing. "Dahling, I'm vorried about you," Lacey uttered in a gentle and serious tone. "Ever since Mrs. Peters's dez, you haven't been out of ze house, except in coming to Ze Rat Trap. You haven't shed a tear in sree years. Ve haven't seen each ozher outside verk."
Deniece considered her friend's sudden response. Lacey was a quiet and reserved girl. But whenever she wanted to talk seriously, Deniece couldn't help but listen. The Parisian bat looked guiltily at the ground. Lacey was right. She hadn't been out for a while, except to go to work. Her gaze met Lacey's. Her green eyes were soft and gentle, yet sad. "Pardonnez," she uttered in a coy whisper. "I ... I've been alone, protecting myself for so long I guess I'm used to it."
Lacey placed her hands on Deniece shoulders. "Dahling, you have me ... and Fazher Richards and Constable Smiz. How can you be alone?"
Deniece gave her friend a shy, yet beaming smile. "Lacey, you're very dear to me. You, Father Richards, and Constable Smith. You're the only family I have left, but-"
"But you don't have a man viz you," Lacey guessed. "Anozher bat. Is zat right?"
Deniece nodded guiltily as she leaned against the Westminster Bridge. She rolled her head back in a tilt and sighed, which was her usual way of holding back tears. "I feel like I'm the only one of my kind left," she began to complain. "Not one man understands me! All they want from me is to spend a night in their beds. They think just because I sing and dance at The Rat Trap that I'm a street tramp who lives on sleeping around." She paced back and forth before she spoke again. "If I find a man, I want him to appreciate me. Even if we never marry, but remain friends I will be less lonely."
Lacey's heart ached as she gazed upon her friend's distant expression. There was a sadness in Deniece's eyes that was too hard to overlook. Even though Deniece was young and vigorous, her glassy stare at the River Thames was like that of an old woman, spending the last nights of her life in solitude. Lacey touched her friend's hand to get her attention back. "It's getting late. Your home on Addington Street is not far."
"I think I'll spend a few minutes here," said Deniece.
"Are you certain? Zose men might search for you."
"I'll be alright. Westminster Abbey is not far."
Despite Lacey's persistence, Deniece assured her friend that she was fine. The two girls embraced and kissed each other on the cheek before they parted. Deniece sat between the poles of the Westminster Bridge to stare at the Thames. The site of the dark water matched the mistiness in her green eyes. She held onto the pole as if to embrace a baby. "Even if we just remain friends, I will be less lonely ..."
Deniece's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a distant sound. Her large ears perked up. It was the sound of ... windmills? No, it wasn't as strong, yet ... the sound of pedaling followed. Pedaling? She looked to the sky. To her surprise, she spotted a dirigible, too small a scale to be built by human hands. When the pedaling ceased, she spotted something else. Someone had thrown a small object out. A bag? No, it wasnt a bag at all. It was ... a bat! It was falling, screaming, and flapping pitifully, before it landed in the river with a loud splash!
"Monsieur!"
Deniece threw off her coat and ran toward the Thames with open wings. She soared with the flawlessness of an eagle to the struggling bat. She couldn't make out the details of his face, except an expression of panic through the splashing water. Flapping her wings, Deniece extended her leg toward the creature. "Grab my ankle!" she cried. The bat obeyed ... but pulled too hard, dragging Deniece in before she could scream.
Water poured down her ears, stung her nose, and blurred her vision. Though Deniece wasn't a swimmer by nature, her will to survive was too strong for her to give up. She was able to spot the bat's body through blurred vision. He was sinking ... further. She clasped the bat's wrist with her hand and swam to the surface. Deniece struggled to keep both their heads above water, until a piece of wood floated in their direction. She wrapped one wing around the bat stranger as she backwards to reach the drifting wood. To her worry, she felt the bat's body going limp.
"We're almost there! Hold on!"
She swung her free wing back and came in contact with the wood. With all her strength, she lifted herself and the bat onto the wood. Both creatures rolled on their stomachs coughing; the bat stranger was vomiting water. Deniece's body shivered. The icy touch of water stung her toes. She noticed that her feet were uncovered and realized that she lost her shoes in the water.
Deniece raised herself to her knees and crawled toward the new-found stranger. "Are you alright monsieur?"
The bat only answered her question with a sickly, empty gaze. That's when Deniece got a better look at him. The bat was short (about half her height), skinny, and had large yellow-gold eyes. His ears were large like Deniece's, but very limp. His right ear had a notch. His right wing was crippled, a sign to Deniece as to explain why he couldn't fly his way out of trouble. She also noticed his right leg, which had no foot, but a wooden peg in its place. His fur was gray as rain clouds and he wore ragged clothing.
"Are you alright?" Deniece repeated.
"Who ... Who are you ...?" was all he managed to say. He wanted to say more, but all that emerged was a fitful of coughs. Deniece couldn't tell whether the gruff tone of his voice was his own or from the coughing.
"You're coming to my house immediately." Deniece stood on the board with her wings spread. "Climb on my back."
The peg-legged bat just stared at her.
"Climb on my back," she repeated firmly.
The sickly bat obeyed and Deniece flew him to dry land. As soon as their feet touched ground, the bat went into a swoon. He clutched Deniece's dampened dress and took no notice of her startled cry.