(1 year later, 1764) Jack and Ginger were walking on Lynn Street to see what the dockworkers were unloading from the ships from Britain. When they arrived one of the dockworkers threw some meat into the water, and Jack and Ginger jumped into the sparkling ocean. “I do say this water is bloody cold.” Jack exclaimed. “What blood?” Ginger looked worried and confused. Jack sighed “Oh Ginger after two years you still haven’t gotten used to the English phrases.” “Uh hello I’m from the alley way!” Ginger’s rough meow managed not to be hoarse, but it was rough and tough. “Ah, but you’re English now.” “Uh, I don’t think so cause were in America.” “I can’t beat that.” “Uh, hello are we going o float here until the fish eat the meat.” Ginger didn’t wait for Jack to respond. She dived into the water and chased after the meat. Jack shook his head “She’s a cat, she’s supposed to hate water.” Once they ate their treats they went over to the pub, because Lumiere, the chef, was cooking chicken. Suddenly they heard a scream “This is an outrage, this sugar act!” “Sugar? I drink sugar with tea and it’s quite nice actually.” Jack replied. “And sugar’s what keeps awake so I can scare you all night.” “You’re Mr.Googly-Monster? That scares me under the bed?” “Yah!” Ginger purred. “I’ll get you later, but now I want to hear the commotion.” Suddenly Rufus, Ginger’s family dog, was trotting up to them. “You silly little fur balls! The sugar act is that King George III put taxes on molasses.’ Rufus retorted. “Oh! That’s bad!” the pets exclaimed. “It is indeed, now they have custom officials to check our businesses to check for smuggled molasses.” “Sorry Rufus, we had no idea.” They said. “It’s okay, but think before you speak next time.” Rufus retorted once more. The Black Labradors gleamed in the sun light as he turned around and left. They decided to go to Jack’s house (after eating Lumiere’s specialty chicken) the Grocer’s and Fabrics, but found a most unpleasant sight. There were custom officials snooping around the molasses shelf, stuffing it into their trousers. “My golly this stuff has to be smuggled since there’s so much of it” one of them said. “I know what you mean, this stuff should be confiscated, and after all we’re working under the color of law.” The other objected. Jack snarled, his smooth silky like accent turning in to a coat tangled with thorns. “Those brutes are stealing from my family!” “You is loco.” Ginger meowed. “I’m going in.” Jack howled. “Hold on let’s do this the smart way, we both bite their bottoms, then we shred their underwear to pieces, and take all the molasses back…” Ginger kept going. Jack then interrupted. “I like the idea senorita but let’s make it mas rapido.” “You speak Spanish?” “Yah, I got it from the pub, but I don’t know what it means.” “All right you count.” “1.., 2.., 3…!” They stormed off into the shop like torpedoes. They bit the custom officials bottoms, ripped open their pants, and the molasses fell all over floor like a huge wave! The officials ran screaming out the door with their polk-a-dot underpants. “Okay that is just wrong!” Ginger said wide-eyed. “Let’s go upstairs.” Jack replied. After the huge flight of stairs (which was really 10) they saw Jack’s huge family. They licked the scared family, but also shocked by the sight of the officials screaming in their underpants out the door.
The following morning Jack and Ginger decided to stop by the Landover’s Printing shop, to find out the daily news. They heard muffled voices, so in order to hear they got closer to the door and they made out what they were saying. “But this is headline news, you could make a fortune.” One of them argued. “I could care less about headline news, I’m a loyalist. That story about the British troops stealing molasses makes Britain look bad!” Then Ginger whispered to Jack in a sing-song meow. “I’ve got an idea, let’s go inside and type our own story from our point of view and then publish it.” “Oooh, Jack like!” Jack said excitedly. “Follow my lead.” Ginger sang happily. “You’ve had to much sugar this morning, haven’t you?” Jack objected. “All the better to drive you crazy with.” Jack sighed. “You have weird ways young one.” “But I’m just as old as you are.” Ginger complained. “Yes but I’m more mature.” Jack said making mature sound like my tour. “You joined a tour?” “It’s my accent problems.” “Aaah you’re ‘accent’ problems.” “That’s the lamest comeback ever!” “Right back at you.” “Let’s just get in there!” jack replied. SO the two Bostonian pets slipped quietly in, to the printing press (Jack had to arrange the ink block letters because Ginger had terrible grammar!) They quietly pushed the block letters down onto the paper so many times, it was hard to count (mostly because Ginger lost count at 3, when Jack already printed 10) then they slithered out the door with carrying all the papers and Ginger sitting on the top delivering the papers by biting them and flinging them to the side (The Bostonians couldn’t figure out why there were 2 little puncture holes in their paper) Once they finished, Jack was panting while Ginger trotted happily when suddenly they saw one of the custom officials hiding behind a water barrel, aiming his musket to shoot at a dockworker unloading smuggled molasses. Jack and Ginger ran their paws, pounding the earth with their claws gleaming in the sun, and then disappearing into the earth. Ginger let out a roar like a brave lion, when Jack let out a howl like a mighty wolf. The diversion worked, the dockworker twisted around and ducked down as if to dodge a wolf and lion. The bullet shining like silver water, barely missing his head, slammed into the barrel of smuggled tea. When the dockworker saw Jack and Ginger, he laughed “You little mutts saved my life!” “For the last time we’re not mutts!” the Bostonian pets objected. By then a mob of Bostonians robbed the British man of his gun, and dragged him back to the British camp. By then that evening the event had been forgotten as another minor incident since the arrival of the British soldiers. They went to the Green Dragon Tavern pub to collect the scraps that were thrown behind the kitchen. “Mmmm I got tuna.” Jack exclaimed. “I found steak!” Ginger said licking her lips. “Where did you get that?” Jack demanded, noticing the steak was bigger than her body, and was being dragged behind her. “Some vegetarian did, the cook gave steak to him when he ordered a salad!” Ginger answered between mouthfuls of steak. They ate quickly and strolled to evening mass at Faneuil Hall, the church Jack and Ginger got bored until it was time to sing ‘Halleluiah’ (They ended up stopping whenever the Bostonians would stare at them, when they turned around the pets started singing again, This process was repeated until they finally decided to move to the back of the pews when the priest scolded them.) Suddenly the music stopped, the sound of marching boots grew steadily louder when an army of custom officials, their coats as red as blood, they burst through the door, staring at the panicking faces. The leader’s voice rang through the church like a hungry panther. “You fools, you thought we wouldn’t catch up to you smuggling molasses. Now you must pay, but don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
……To be continued check every one or two weeks for more!