Attached Link: http://www.ratta.com/development/Max_Wilma.jpg

From: "Day Innuh Lyfe: M' Sekrit Diuhry" April 6 Thursday "Max." "Jeez, Wilma, you scauh'd th' buhjeezuz owt uv me!" I watched the bejeezuz flee screaming into the night, then turned to face the rat. "Lighten up, Max. How's the Great Cheese Caper coming?" I lit a Camel and stared at the rat through my shades. She was standing on her haunches on the threadbare rag that the super of the Motel told me was a carpet the day I rented the room. It was really just a dishtowel somebody threw on the floor and left there, he couldn't fool me. But it provided some comfort for Wilma, I imagined. She always seemed to squat on her haunches in the same place when she visited, though I noticed with occasional concern that a small, dark spot remained each time she left. I wormed my hand under my frayed mattress and managed to remove the plans and diagrams I so studiously created yesterday, without ripping my fingers to shredded hamburger on the rusted bedsprings. That was a good thing, because people make meatloaf out of hamburger and I hate meatloaf. Laying the plans on the floor next to Wilma, we reviewed the operation. Wilma pointedly noted that wiring 20 lbs. of plastique to the front door might not be the most suitable way to gain entry into the locked shop. "So, yu gut a bettuh ideuh?" I remember asking her, a bit indignant that a rat with little or no experience in matters as this might point out a possibly fatal flaw in my otherwise foolproof plan. "Just break the glass in the door, Max." "Oh."