Part Two

Author's Note: Once again, if you are French, this was not written to offend you. (Or British, for that matter.)

"Daddy, I've decided," said Veruca.

"What did you decide, Popkin? Have you decided which car you want for your sixteenth birthday?"

"No, Daddy. I've decided that I want a stoat."

"A stoat?"

"Yes, Daddy, a stoat. And I want it now!"

"All right," said Mr. Salt, clearly flustered. "Daddy will get you a stoat as soon as he possibly can."

"But I don't want just any old stoat. Daddy, I want a trained stoat!"

"A trained stoat! Now where in bloody hell am I going to find a trained stoat?"

"They sell them at the pet shop on the corner of Cherry and Main," Veruca supplied.

"But that store charges at least twice the price the damn animal should be bloody bought for!"

"But Daddy, don't you want me to be happy?" asked Veruca, her lower lip trembling and her eyes widening in puppy-like adoration.

Mr. Salt couldn't possibly resist his daughter's puppy eyes, or risk a tantrum in public. "The damn thing will have to be imported. It'll cost me an extra bloody arm and a leg to get one," he grumbled.

Hearing him, Veruca exclaimed, "Then cut off your arms and legs, Daddy, because I want a trained stoat now!"

Mr. Salt finally gave up and journeyed to the pet shop on Cherry and Main, called "Le Pet Shoppe". A very fitting name, actually, for they were all loony Frenchmen in there. He walked up to the store clerk, who said, "'Ello, Meester…"

"Salt," he replied.

"'Ow may I be of asseestance, Meester Salt?"

"I would like to order a trained stoat."

"Eexuse me? What ees zis 'stoat' zat you speak of?"

"A. Trained. Stoat. Do you have any?"

"I do not know of any aneemal called a 'stoat'. Pairhaps eet ees called by a deefraint name?"

"I don't know!" shouted Mr. Salt, quite flustered now. Alas, when it came to animals, he was not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Do you pairhaps know what eet would look like?"

"Well, it's fuzzy and stoat-ish."

"Pleeze come weeth me. We may 'ave some aneemals like zat wheech you deescribe." He took Mr. Salt to a row of cages. "Zees ees Elbert. 'E ees quite companiable and nice and-"

"I'm leaving," said Mr. Salt.

He was promptly murdered upon arrival without Veruca's stoat.