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Hey!

REMEMBER PUSS?
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You know . . . the boot-loving roustabout who lived by his wits? 

This go-round, the cutie’s thwarting goofy skullduggery in sixteenth century Europe.

 

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A highly stratified society was crumbling. A measure of social mobility was possible for the first time, brains and pluck the key to advancement. Into the muck and the murk I’ve flung Sylvester Boots. He pokes his digits into many a pie, including a putrid Traitor’s Pie in Elizabethan England.

I’ll jog your memory: Puss (I call him Sly) had snagged himself a plum position as advisor to a king in a backwater realm. He’s lived the high life way too long. Sated with the excess and over-refinement of court life, he seeks to recapture a simplicity which he years before had exchanged for the glories of a diplomatic career.

He and a rotating cast of nitwits bully and bluff their way across Europe in a saga of misery and mayhem, filled with vibrant personalities including a Queen Elizabeth-wannabe monkey and a mentally unstable frog who believes himself an enchanted prince. My sad-sacks deal with injustice, with personal failures, and with heartbreak. I butt in, discussing situations and making suggestions which are seldom helpful.

This is silly fantasy, goosed with what appears to be a wealth of scholarly detail. Take the history with a grain of salt. I’ve fudged facts. I’ve embellished. I’ve plundered history books for zany material and woven the scavenged bits into my narrative; I hope it sounds like I know what I’m talking about. (I don’t.)

My story is told in a cascade of adventures. Rogue is a work-in-progress. I’ll be uploading it bit by bit.

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