OK, I really hate long authors' notes, so I'll try to keep this as short as possible. FIRST: I apologize to fans of "Fairly Zany Tales", but I've been plagued by writer's block and general disinterest, though you might get another installment...someday... SECOND: Please don't make plot suggestions, I have this whole story written already and busted a gut over it and I don't want to hear it. THIRD: All the songs in here are original compositions, though the story title is the name of a song written by Bob Lind and the chapter titles are all names of songs from Broadway musicals—I dare someone to be able to identify them all. And FOURTH: This story dedicated to Pinky Lillix because I pestered her to proofread this for several months, and her positive comments gave me confidence in a story I'd thought was weak and terrible. Now let's get on with it, shall we?

The Elusive Butterfly

(The Illustrious Crackpot)

Prologue: Some Enchanted Evening

Evening...my favorite time of day. The cool night breeze ruffled through my gray fur, and I arched my back, reveling in it. My white-tipped paws were balanced delicately on top of a fire hydrant, but not for long as I made a fluid leap to a nearby bench. I landed perfectly on all fours, twitching my long tail hypnotically. Raising a forepaw, I ran my tongue across it casually and smoothed down the fur on top of my head, batting playfully at one of my triangular ears. Anyone watching would have thought it was rehearsed; everything flowed perfectly, every move made flawlessly, not a single hair out of place.

It's all about the rhythm and timing. If the beat flows right, you've got a hit. If the timing's messed up, you're gonna take a fall.

And that's what I did just then as something unexpectedly bowled me over. I was knocked fully off the bench, flying forwards for a few feet before skidding to a painful halt on the sidewalk. I inhaled in a sharp hiss, wobbling to all fours and quickly smoothing myself out again with a paw. Then I glared up at the huge dog smothering the bench, a gargantuan tan mongrel with an unruly pile of russet headfur and two long black ears. His giant paws were all balanced together on a single point as he stared down confusedly at me. "Gee, Rita," he began, cocking his head to the side, "what'cha doin' down there?"

I grumbled something under my breath, but stretched myself out in an arcing motion, the effort rippling my fur like a wave as the movement progressed backwards down my spine. Then out came the tongue again, and I smoothed everything down. Perfectly placed. Perfectly coordinated.

"Oh, I dunno, Runt," I replied sarcastically, "I just wanted to see what the curb felt like." I padded lightly back towards the bench and used my eyes to bore a hole in his thick skull. Rather than interpreting the gesture as it was meant, though, Runt's lower jaw flopped open and he grinned, tongue lolling out like a big pink rug.

"Oh, good, yeah, definitely good," he panted, then jumped down from the bench. His feet slipped awkwardly as his knees realized that they weren't correctly placed to hold up that much dog, and Runt was soon sprawled flat on his stomach. I trotted over, then stood erect on my back feet and leaned over his head to glower disapprovingly down at him. The mutt just smiled wider, wagging his stubby tail furiously. "Hiya, Rita."

I reached down and poked him on the nose, a big black sphere protruding out of his face. "Nice landing, big fella," I noticed, once more utilizing sarcasm. Runt wouldn't understand it; he never did get the gist of that type of comedy.

"Thanks, Rita, yeah, definitely thanks." Struggling comically like Bambi on the ice, Runt managed to get to his feet. His stubby little tail flapped enthusiastically out of tempo. Of anyone—or anything—I'd ever seen, Runt was the least coordinated. No rhythm, no discernible beat, and the only timing he had was in split-second rescues—and even those cut it pretty fine. But he was decent...for a dog.

"Hey, Rita," Runt interrupted suddenly as we began padding down the street, "where're we gonna sleep tonight?"

The question made me sigh. "Dunno," I answered, shrugging slightly, then as I caught the beat I jumped lightly on top of an upturned garbage can outside a deli. The timing was right, the rhythm was right, and standing impressively on my back paws I began to sing.

"But we'll fiiiiiiind someWHERE...

There's always another home.

Oh, we'll fiiiiiiiiiiiind somewhere

No matter where we have to roooooooooam..."

I lapsed into a small silence and twitched my tail rhythmically, listening to the accompanying music floating out the windows of the delicatessen. My eyes half-closed, I watched Runt on the sidewalk below, his tongue hanging out as he panted enthusiastically. The image seemed blurry, and it all felt somewhat unreal. When I sing, I always go into a bit of a trance, almost completely detached and not even fully taking in my surroundings. It felt like from an infinite distance that I pounced fluidly onto a cardboard box, scooping up an apple core from the ground nearby and fondling it reflectively as I resumed.

"The streets of life have taken us...

We'll walk where e'er they go.

And see if we will give a fuss

'Cus we just want to knoooooooooooow..."

I descended from the box, standing on the pavement before Runt. His stubby tail was wagging even faster as I extended my arms to the skies, reaching a crescendo higher and louder than I had ever done.

"SomeDAAAAAAAAAY

If we can find a place,

SomeDAAAAAAAAAAY

That it won't BE a waste,

SomeDAAAAAAAAAAY..."

I trailed off quietly, lowering my arms and settling back on my haunches. Runt leaned in inquisitively, his floppy ears raising slightly to catch the final, almost-silent measures.

"Where we can find a place...

Called...

Hooooooooooooooooome..."

The music petered out. My tail stopped moving, and my head lowered dramatically. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, my vision became clearer and I felt a more tangible connection to all of my limbs. The rhythm was right; I returned to myself.

"Gee, Rita," Runt panted once he was certain that I had finished, "you sing real nice for a dog. Yeah, real nice."

My ears stiffened a bit at that, then lowered a little guiltily. "Ehhhh...Runt..." I began, meaning to finally tell him, but I stopped myself. The timing wasn't right. If the timing's messed up, you're gonna take a fall. "...Thanks."

The big lug didn't even notice my hesitance, dropping himself into a four-legged squat as he continued his doggish panting. I obligingly propelled myself onto his back, circling a little before settling myself comfortably in one of the contours of his spine. Once I was secure, Runt cautiously stood back up, then plodded down the street with me balanced like an Arabian prince riding an elephant.

"But really, Rita," Runt broke in, tilting his head back in an attempt to look at me, "where are we gonna sleep tonight?"

I emitted a slow purr, stretching my forepaws a bit, but not enough to upset his stride. "I'm sure this city's got some nice alleys," I commented. Runt's smile widened, and he turned his head back to watch the sidewalk in front of him.

"Sure. Nice alleys, definitely, definitely nice."

The corners of my own mouth twitched upwards a little at the sound of his voice, and I leaned forward to nestle my head in my forepaws. My eyelids lowered, and I watched Runt's ears flop from side to side with each of his steps. I probably could take a little nap now, I thought as my eyelids lowered some more. A sense of security was already lulling me to sleep. Runt won't move fast enough to dislodge me. He's always careful when I'm up here.

He was a pretty good dog, I decided as my eyes finally closed, and I found myself asleep.