17 The Inconvenience

The Inconvenience Stop looking at me like that," said the beast. "You're acting like you've never seen me eat a meal before." Ebenezer was as pale as a glass of watery milk. His fingers were twitching, and his knees were trembling. "N… n… never seen you eat a human," he stuttered, between a series of deep and jangly

breaths. "Humans, cats, statues of Winston Churchill—they're all the same. I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it," said the beast. "Although, I must say, this one tasted wonderful. Mmmnnnh! It was everything I was hoping for." The beast smiled and looked down at its full belly. It burped out Miss Fizzlewick's ears, which bounced along the floor and landed by Ebenezer's feet. "Be a dear and pop those back into my mouth," said the beast. "They were one of my favorite parts of the meal. After the nails and the kneecaps, of course." Ebenezer didn't pop the ears back into the beast. In fact, he didn't move at all—he just stayed quivering and staring at the beast in a

horrified manner. His heart was beating so fast, his whole chest was shaking. "Oh, all right, fine then," said the beast. "I suppose you're right. I shouldn't spoil my appetite before tomorrow's feast." "So… you still want to eat Bethany?" asked Ebenezer. "You're not too full to appreciate her?" he asked hopefully. "Why yes, of course I'm going to eat her, you fool. That Fozzlewocklewhatever woman was just the appetizer!" said the beast. "And I must say, I'm itching to get my mouth around the main course. It'll be interesting to see what younger, fresher meat tastes like." "I need to go downstairs," said Ebenezer. "Good plan, you need a lie-down—you're not yourself at all, old boy."

Ebenezer picked up Miss Fizzlewick's box and went downstairs, but he didn't lie down. He went straight to his thinking chambers, a series of extravagantly decorated rooms, which were located on the eighth floor. He sat on one of his many thinking chairs and took a moment to come to terms with the terrible thing he had just seen. Ebenezer had seen the beast eat all manner of live animals—from baby kangaroos to old, grizzled polar bears to Lord Tibbles the cat— and he had watched it bite and tear its way through several ancient objects. It had never been pleasant to watch the beast at mealtimes, but nothing had ever been anything quite like what he had just seen. He hadn't fed Miss Fizzlewick to the beast, but he hadn't done enough to stop it from

happening, either. And now, with all that he had been doing to prepare Bethany for the beast, he realized that he was about to let something similar happen again. There was a burning, gnawing at the pit of his stomach, and it took a few minutes for him to realize that he was feeling guilty again. It can be rather a nasty shock when you realize that you've been behaving badly. The feeling is not unlike the one you experience when you look in the mirror and find out that the leopard-print onesie you've been wearing all day doesn't actually suit you. The gnawing, burning in Ebenezer's stomach grew more and more painful, as he started remembering all the things that he had brought the beast to eat over the years. All the whines, squeaks, and tweets sounded in his

ears, and every surprised face he had seen flashed before his eyes. Ebenezer had always seen the beast as the evil one, and himself as the helper who had no choice over what he was doing. Now, however, he realized that this was not the case. Every time he had decided to help the beast, in order to get a potion or a present for himself, he had committed a dreadful deed. At any time over the past five hundred years, he could have chosen to stop helping the beast, but instead, he had been selfish and cruel. The feeling of guilt was so overpowering that Ebenezer felt he could no longer stay sitting down. He needed to do something to interrupt his train of thought, so he picked up Miss Fizzlewick's box and continued his descent down the stairs.