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Butterbean squeezed through after Walt, just barely making it before Chad slammed the door.“Ooh, so sorry. That must’ve slipped.” He smirked as he dangled from the exit sign.

Oscar didn’t pay any attention to Chad. He brushed past, landing on the floor in front of Butterbean and Walt. (Badly. He was right about the floor. It was way more slippery than he was comfortable with.) Dunkin and the other rats weren’t anywhere to be found. (Oscar couldn’t help but be relieved aboutthat. He was glad his landing hadn’t had an audience.)

Oscar cleared his throat.“Look, Butterbean, I know you want to help, but the situation has changed. I’ve seen programs about raccoons. I know what they’re like. They’re not to be trusted. They’re thieves. They destroy property.” He looked at the others significantly. “They have…” He paused. “A REPUTATION.”

Butterbean put on her best shocked face. (The situation seemed to call for it.)

Marco and Polo exchanged a look.

Oscar frowned at them.“What?” he said in irritation. “You don’t trust my sources? Believe me, I’ve done my research. I don’t say these things lightly.”

Polo squirmed.“It’s not that,” she said, not meeting Oscar’s eyes. “It’s just… well…” She trailed off and looked over to Marco.

“See, rats also have a reputation,” Marco said slowly.

“It’s a bad reputation,” Polo said. She wrung her hands together. “I don’t know if it’s raccoon bad. But it’s bad.”

“Some people don’t like rats,” Marco whispered.

“Hmm.” Oscar frowned. They had a point. He had seen several programs about rats that were less than complimentary, it was true.

“Have you ever met a raccoon?” Walt asked after a minute.

“Well, no,” Oscar said. “Not personally.”

He looked over at Marco and Polo and Wallace in his tiny sailor top. The rats on the Television never wore tiny sailor tops. Maybe Marco and Polo were right. Maybe he was being unfair and judgmental. He hadn’t really given the raccoons a chance. But then he remembered that hand poking out through the insulation. He shivered.

“Just let me talk to them,” Butterbean said, looking up at Oscar hopefully. “I’m sure I can therapy the situation.”

“That’s not how therapy dogs work, Bean,” Walt groaned. She didn’t know how many times she was going to have to explain this.

“No, Bean, it’s too risky,” Oscar said, staring up at the door. If he were smart, he would go right back upstairs and let Butterbean explain the situation to Biscuit in the morning. If he were smart, he’d leave the loading dock rats to fend for themselves. But he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be smart. And he had a worse feeling that Butterbean was never going to give up.

“We shouldn’t mess with raccoons, Oscar,” Walt said in a low voice. “This isn’t some imaginary ghost situation. This could be dangerous.” They’d dealt with sketchy situations in the past, but never situations that put them in real physical danger. (Well, except for once or twice.)

Oscar looked at Walt and nodded. They should definitely go home. Leave it alone. Messing with raccoons was always a bad idea.

“Walt is right, Bean,” Oscar said. “It could be dangerous.” He took a deep breath. “So I should be the one to talk to the raccoons. I’m the only one who can make a quick escape if I need to.” He made elaborate flapping motions. “Wings. See?”

Butterbean nodded.“Right. Wings.” Oscar had a point. She didn’t have wings. Any escape she made would have to be on foot. It wouldn’t necessarily be quick.

“Oscar, seriously?” Walt said, stepping in front of the door. “We can’t go in there! They’ll be through that hole in no time. Didn’t you see that hand?”

Oscar flexed his wings.“It’ll be fast. I’ll reason with them. Surely they’ll understand. And then we can at least say we tried. Chad? Can you get the doors?”

Chad rolled his eyes.“We’re talking extra shrimp. Jumbo.” He tapped the code in again and then opened the door. Then he hesitated. “Wait, doors? What do you mean doors?”

“I mean both doors,” Oscar said. “I’m not stopping at the storage room. I’m going out onto the loading dock.”

“Tell me again why you’re doing this?” Walt said to Oscar as they stood in front of the loading dock door. “Because this is a BAD idea. Capital B-A-D.”

“I know,” Oscar said in low voice. “But you know Butterbean isn’t going to let this go. If we leave now, we’ll just have to come back later. And who knows what the raccoons will be doing then.”

“Fine. But I don’t like it,” Walt muttered. Oscar was right—Butterbean could be very stubborn. And those raccoons had already made it pretty far.

“Besides, if my motivational speech works, we’ve saved the day. If not, we’re not any worse off, and we leave it for someone else to solve.” Oscar was secretly very proud of his motivational speaking skills. It was a natural talent he had.