The fund-raising party attracted a moderate crowd, mostly students and their parents, to the Lakewood gymnasium. The guests enjoyed brownies without incident, something which made Rattles increasingly suspicious.

"Hey, D.W.," he whispered hoarsely to the little girl. "I don't see anybody running to the bathroom."

"Er…uh…" D.W. stammered, backing away toward the punchbowl.

Rattles tightened his fists. "You didn't add the extra chocolate to the brownie batter, did you?" he snarled.

"N-no," admitted D.W.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't crush you like a bug," said Rattles, advancing on the frightened girl.

"I ate it!" cried D.W. "I couldn't help it! It smelled so good, and it tasted so good, but it made me sick. I was on the toilet for hours."

Rattles' face softened. "You…you…ate it?" he muttered incredulously.

D.W. nodded. "Got any more?"

"Omigosh," said Rattles, shaking his head. "I can't crush you. You've suffered enough."

At the other end of the gym, Arthur was receiving a visit from his former teacher, Mr. Ratburn, and his wife, Carla.

"I'm impressed that you were able to organize all this," said Mr. Ratburn.

"I can't take all the credit," said Arthur. "Mr. Haney did most of the work. All I did was make flyers…no, wait, George did that…"

"I hope they name the new auditorium after you," said Carla. "After that, I hope they build a new gymnasium and name it after you."

"I wouldn't count on it," said Arthur. "They'll name the auditorium after whoever donates the most money."

Muffy, standing nearby with her parents, overheard the news with joy. "Mom! Dad!" she exclaimed. "If you give more money than anyone else, the new auditorium will be named after us! It'll be called the Muffytorium!"

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs. Crosswire.

"Dad!" said Muffy excitedly. "Get your checkbook, quick, before the opportunity passes!"

"Well, now, Muffin," said Mr. Crosswire, patting his daughter's head, "are you sure you wouldn't rather have a shiny new limousine?"

"Of course not," said Muffy. "We're getting a new limo anyway."

Mr. Crosswire glanced at his wife, then down at Muffy again. "You don't understand, princess," he said in a serious tone. "The Chanels have already pledged ten thousand dollars to the auditorium fund. If I go over that, we won't be able to afford the limo."

The word afford stung Muffy's ears like acid; she wasn't sure she had ever heard her father utter it before.

"Oh, sweetie," said Mrs. Crosswire, hugging her consternated little girl. "We can't throw money around anymore. You need to get used to that."

"I'd be glad to donate to the fund, Muffin," said Mr. Crosswire, "as long as you don't mind riding around in a Mitsubishi."

"There'd be plenty of room for all of us in a Mitsubishi," his wife remarked.

Too depressed for words, Muffy simply walked away. We must be really, really poor now, she thought. It used to be, when I liked two dresses the same, Mom would buy me both. But now, if I want a new limo to take the place of the old one, I have to give up everything else I want. Oh, why? Why did my poor old limo have to drown?

"What's eating you, Muffy?" asked George as he strolled by with a brownie.

Muffy sighed dejectedly. "I just don't get it, George. Why is life the way it is? Why do bad things have to happen to attractive people?"

"I dunno," said the moose boy with a shrug. "But if it'll help you feel better, I'll take you out to the Sugar Bowl after the party."

George's thoughtfulness brought a smile to Muffy's lips. "Thanks a lot…but I need to hold on to my allowance."

"I'll pay for it myself," George offered.

Something about the boy's sincere grin and shapely antlers made it impossible for Muffy to turn him down.

"Okay," she agreed.

to be continued