Peter Rabbit, Based on the Movie

by Frederick Warne

  “Certainly didn’t realize I knew all the same dance moves as everyone,” says Jemima Puddle-duck.

  “Welcome to the new world, where anything is possible,” says Peter, surveying his new, grand manor.

  “I can fly!” yells Cotton-tail as she jumps off the balcony and then realizes that, actually, she can’t.

  Splat!

  “Not everything. Cotton-tail, better choices. We talked about this,” says Peter as he moves through the party like the host with the most.

  “Good to see you. Thanks for coming. There’s no rules. Help yourself to anything. It’s all fair game.”

  Mopsy is sitting on the couch with an excited Flopsy, who is hopping up and down to the music.

  “Look at this pattern. It’s stunning,” says Mopsy.

  “Come on, let’s dance,” says Flopsy.

  But Mopsy isn’t listening.

  “I’m going to make a dress out of it,” says Mopsy.

  “Great idea. But not now. Let’s dance,” says Flopsy as she drags her sister onto the dance floor just as Peter walks by.

  “Peter, dance with us!” says Flopsy.

  “Oh no, I’m not much of a dancer,” says Peter, shaking his head.

  “Come on!” insists Mopsy.

  Peter can’t say no to his sisters so he joins in, a bit stiffly. But then something starts to happen.

  “Whoa, what’s going on? What’s happening down there? I’m not even controlling this!” says Peter as he starts to burn up the dance floor. He’s a great dancer!

  “Let’s go get Mom and Dad!” says Peter, excitedly.

  “They’re dead, Peter,” says Mopsy, a confused look on her face.

  “Metaphorically, Mopsy,” explains Peter.

  The siblings dash out of the party and return moments later with a portrait of their parents, one that Bea has painted. Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail try to hang it up on the wall. Peter’s instructions aren’t helping.

  “Higher. To the left. To the right. To the left. More. Too far. Lower. Down. Right. Right. Higher. Higher. Lower. Lower. Up. Right. Down. Up. Left. Middle. Up.”

  This is hard! The rabbits give up and leave the portrait where it is.

  “Perfect,” Peter says to his sisters before turning back to the portrait of his mom and dad. “He’s gone now, guys. Just wish you were here to enjoy it.”

  Chapter Five

  TROUBLE IN PARADISE

  The mournful sound of a violin fills the silence of a very, very neat apartment. It can only belong to Thomas McGregor. As he plays his violin, he looks across the street at Harrods. Through the window he can see his precious toy department. He has always loved living so close to where he worked. Until now.

  Knock, knock.

  McGregor opens the door to find a mailman on his delivery round.

  “Thomas McGregor? Sign here, please,” says the mailman, who checks the return address on the package. “From Windermere. Fancy place, that. You must know some fancy people.”

  “I don’t know anyone from Windermere,” says McGregor.

  “It’s from Unclaimed Property. Usually means you inherited something,” says the mailman helpfully, and hands the package over. McGregor quickly opens it and sees that it is a will with several pictures of the McGregor manor. And a key. Thomas has inherited a manor from a great-uncle he never met.

  “Windermere. That’s out in the country.” Thomas McGregor can’t keep the disgust from his voice.

  “Fancy country,” says the mailman. “Houses there go for a king’s ransom.”

  “How rich a country is that king from?” says McGregor, considering his options. An idea is starting to form in his mind. “Ransom enough to buy my own store?”

  “I’d imagine so,” says the mailman, leaning against the doorframe.

  “And fill it with the finest merchandise?” says McGregor.

  “Should do, yes,” says the mailman.

  “Big enough to have tempered-glass shelving and seasonal window decorations?” McGregor can almost see it, his own store.

  “That I’d have to do some research on, sir. Can I get back to you mail-time tomorrow?” asks the mailman.

  Thomas McGregor’s face rearranges into a triumphant smile. When one door closes, another one opens. He decides to take the biggest leap of his life. He is going to the countryside after all.

  Thomas’s mission takes him to Paddington station. It’s one of the busiest stations in London, taking crowds of people to every corner of the country, and beyond. And right in the middle of this crowd are two tiny gray feet. The feet of one Johnny Town-mouse. He is a confident, streetwise mouse dressed in a blue blazer, a shirt, and a bright red tie.

  “Coming through . . . ’Scuse me, darling. On your left,” says Johnny Town-mouse. He weaves his way under the feet of the bustling commuters making their way through the station. He spots a pretty mouse pulling her suitcase. “Need some help, love? A pretty mouse like you shouldn’t have to carry all that weight. Unless you want to give me . . .”

  Shwoop!

  Before Johnny Town-mouse can finish flirting with the poor, unsuspecting, pretty mouse, he gets collected by a dustpan wielded by a maintenance man. The girl mouse walks off but, after a minute, Johnny drops right back by her side. His clothes might be disheveled and covered in garbage, but he doesn’t let that deter him.

  “. . . a ride? Where were we?” he continues.

  She rolls her eyes and disappears into the crowd. Johnny is unfazed.

  “Coming through! Coming through!” he yells, but his voice is drowned out by Mr. McGregor’s.

  “Roundtrip to Windermere!” says McGregor.

  Johnny smiles and jumps into McGregor’s bag. That is exactly where he is headed.

  The train travels through the city as McGregor finds an empty seat on the train and makes himself comfortable. He is not the only one. Hidden below, Johnny Town-mouse also makes himself comfortable in the mouse compartment. A few other mice are already there, eating and playing cards.

  “How’s it going, boys? Johnny Town-mouse is in the house. Recognize!” he announces to everyone as he takes off his hat and puts it on what he thinks is a hook. It isn’t. The hat falls down into a vent, which sucks it away. Johnny pauses for a millisecond, but powers on.

  “Last season’s style anyway,” he says. Johnny opens his briefcase and takes out another hat, proud of his fashion-forward thinking.

  “Where you diddle-dots headed?” Johnny asks his fellow mice.

  “Blackpool. We got a share house on the beach. Gonna be epic,” says a mouse wearing a tracksuit.

  “That’s cute. But I’m not in playschool anymore. My ticket says Windermere,” boasts Johnny.

  “Off to visit your grandmother,” says another mouse, causing all the others to laugh out loud.

  “Laugh it up, smooks. I’m headed to the biggest party of the year. And not just mouses. All kinds. Squirrels, rabbits, puddle-ducks,” he says. Johnny Town-mouse likes puddle-ducks.

  Above, McGregor opens a guidebook to the Lake District. He flips through the pages just as a woman appears in the doorway to his compartment.

  “Are these seats free?” she asks with a smile.

  “Of course, please,” says McGregor, a smile appearing on his own face.

  “Kids! This way. Hurry up, pile in,” yells the woman as four wild children run up to the seats. They start wrestling and playing video games. One of the children has a cage with two gerbils inside. McGregor’s smile quickly turns into a sad frown.

  The gerbils in the cage whisper to Johnny Town-mouse, “Help. Us.”

  As dusk falls, the train pulls out of Windermere station, leaving McGregor alone on the platform. He doesn’t notice that Johnny Town-mouse is standing beside him. Nor does he see the newly freed gerbils standing right beside Johnny. As t
he train rushes past, Johnny sees the boys on the train, holding the empty gerbil cage. Their mother is furiously looking for their missing pets.

  “I can spin around and not touch a wall!” says the first gerbil, still not quite believing he is free.

  “Sweet freedom!” says the second gerbil before they both collapse in two spinning balls.

  McGregor grabs his suitcase and makes his way to a taxi. He hands the driver a piece of paper.

  “Do you know this place?”

  “The McGregor manor,” says the driver, Betty. “Is that where you’re staying?”

  “Not staying. That implies it’s not temporary, which it is. I’m merely checking the manor’s condition before I sell it,” says McGregor.

  “So do you want me to take you there or not?”

  Behind them, Johnny Town-mouse is listening to their conversation.

  “He’s going to the same place we are.”

  “You’re taking us with you?!” says one of the gerbils before they high-five each other.

  “He’ll ruin the party,” says Johnny, a worried look on his face. “I better not have come all this way for nothing.”

  “We’re going to a party?!” says the other gerbil. Freedom is so exciting!

  Johnny signals to the gerbils to climb onto the top of the taxi. It pulls away from the station.

  McGregor is very unhappy as he rattles around in the back of the cab as it drives him through the winding country roads of Windermere. While up top, Johnny is smiling at the gerbils as they surf the air with their arms up.

  “Just want to let you know, no matter what happens, you’ve made us the happiest we’ve ever been in our lives,” says one of the gerbils.

  “And don’t get freaked out by this, but you’re our Best. Friend. Ever,” says the second gerbil.

  “Means a lot, gerbs. Much love,” says Johnny as he pounds his chest and reaches out to pound the chest of one of the gerbils. This, unfortunately, knocks the gerbil off his feet and he sails off into the night air.

  “How far away are we from our destination?” says the gerbil who is left. Maybe freedom is not so great after all.

  “Close. It’s right over there,” says Johnny, and points in the direction of the manor. As he does so, he knocks the other gerbil off his feet and he, too, sails off into the sky.

  Inside the McGregor manor, the party that Johnny Town-mouse is so eager to get to has gotten bigger. The rabbits are flinging carrots at the ceiling like darts, animals play spin the carrot and a hedgehog is having his belly shaved. Peter Rabbit is still the host with the most and the party spirit has definitely taken over.

  It’s Cotton-tail who first notices something is wrong. She stops dancing and puts her ear to the ground.

  “A man’s coming. There’s a man coming,” she says.

  It’s dark when McGregor’s taxi pulls into the drive of the manor. He gets out and looks at the old house and its destroyed garden. There are bits of vegetable strewn everywhere, as if they have been pulled from the dirt and eaten by animals. The gate has come off its hinges and clumps of grass are scattered around the garden. It is a mess. The taxi drives off as Johnny Town-mouse leaps from the roof. He runs ahead of McGregor toward the party.

  “Get up! The owner’s coming,” says Johnny to the animals in the garden. They are jolted out of their party mode. “That’s right. I got all the way out here and the party’s about to be shut down. Let’s go, chop chop.”

  The animals start to scurry out of the manor.

  “Owner’s coming! Human!” yells Johnny as McGregor walks toward the house.

  Thomas does everything he can not to walk on anything nature-related. He’ll stick to the paving stones thank-you-very-much. With a little hopscotching, he arrives at the house. He looks up and sees a shadow pass by the window. That can’t be right. The house should be empty now that his great-uncle is dead. McGregor spots a sign. He reads it to check he is at the right address. The sign is dripping with squashed vegetables. McGregor wipes the mush off to reveal the actual word: MCGREGOR. Hmmm, it is the right place.

  Meanwhile, Johnny continues to run through the manor, warning everyone in sight.

  “The owner’s outside! Party’s over. Usually I start the party, but right now, the party’s over. Owner! Human!”

  The animals scurry for the exit. Johnny passes three puddle-ducks and he’s immediately distracted.

  “’Sup, ducks. What’s quacking?” he says. The puddle-ducks just roll their eyes.

  Peter notices the animals disappearing. He spots Johnny Town-mouse, who is busy shouting orders: “Human! Everyone out! Human!”

  The rabbits look out the window and see McGregor in the shadows. They whisper nervously to each other.

  “That looks like Mr. McGregor!” says Flopsy.

  “But not dead!” says Mopsy.

  McGregor makes his way to the front door and puts his key in the lock. The animals scurry away . . . apart from Tommy Brock the badger, who is frozen with fear. The door handle turns, and Peter manages to tackle him out of the room just in time.

  McGregor appears in the doorway. He takes a step in and feels around for a light switch. As the room brightens, McGregor finally sees the mess he has inherited. The house looks as if animals have been living in it! McGregor cannot believe he would be related to someone who lived in such filth. His uncle must have been a real pig. Then, without warning, Pigling Bland reveals himself from underneath a sheet on the couch.

  “Aaaahhhh!” yells McGregor, his face distorted in fear.

  Pigling Bland yelps in response and McGregor jumps just as a hoard of animals rush out past him. He watches, stunned. Then he gathers himself, grabs the coat rack, and starts swinging at the animals.

  “Get out of my house! Shoo! Vermin!” yells McGregor.

  Peter and Cotton-tail slide down the banister and scoot by McGregor. Thomas and Peter lock eyes. It is as if time slows down as McGregor swings the coat rack like his great-uncle used to swing his rake. But this young, strong McGregor is much better at it.

  Time speeds up again. Peter runs out of the house with the other rabbits.

  “He had the keys!” says Flopsy.

  “He’s gotta be a McGregor!” says Cotton-tail.

  “He’s come back to life!” says Mopsy.

  “Or he’s a different McGregor with similarly evil characteristics!” says a sensible Benjamin.

  The bunnies head out and join all the other animals outside, two of whom are the gerbils.

  “We made it!” says one of the gerbils as they pass Johnny.

  “Party’s over. Turn it around,” says Johnny.

  The gerbils turn around and get swept away with the other animals, still happy to be part of life outside a cage. Up ahead, a car has stopped. Its headlights are trained on a large deer. The deer is transfixed. He can’t move.

  “Felix! Blink! Blink!” says Benjamin.

  “Headlights,” says Felix, as if he is in a trance.

  Benjamin jumps in front of Felix’s eyes and yells, “Blink!”

  Thankfully, it works. Felix finally blinks and Benjamin hurries him along, away from the scene of the party, and the new McGregor.

  Chapter Six

  MAKING NEW FRIENDS

  Next morning, the loud crowing of JW Rooster III wakes a tired McGregor.

  “. . . The sun came up again! I can’t believe it! I thought when I closed my eyes last night that was it! We have another day of this! Woohoo—”

  Thomas takes off his sleeping mask and tries to get his bearings. He is no longer in the city. His great-uncle’s house is still a mess.

  “Ugh. It wasn’t a nightmare,” says McGregor sadly, taking in his surroundings.

  Peter is also waking up. He heads out of the burrow, putting on his jacket, and sees Mr. McGregor at the bedroom window.<
br />
  “Ugh. It wasn’t a nightmare,” he sighs.

  Peter watches as McGregor’s frown changes to a look of determination. All he has to do is make the house look nice enough to sell and then he can get back to his life in the city.

  Thomas begins to hunt around in the cupboards for cleaning products. Then, he snaps on a pair of gloves, turns on some music, and gets to work.

  Peter and Benjamin look on as McGregor slowly cleans the floors, scrubs the toilets, and removes endless hairballs from the bathtub drain. He’s in his element as he straightens, and tidies up the manor and the garden from top to bottom.

  “Well, it was good while it lasted. No one can ever take our memories away. Let’s just be thankful and reflect on that,” says Benjamin as he picks out some stray fruit from his ears, left over from the party. He looks at it and then eats it. He offers some to Peter. But Peter is seething.

  Bea appears; she has been picking wildflowers in the woods.

  “Hey sweeties, checking out the new neighbor, huh? Don’t worry, he can’t be worse than the old crab bucket. Rest his soul. Never know, maybe he’s even a good guy,” she says. “They’re not all bad, I promise. I’ll go break it down for him: how we all share our land around here.”

  Bea gets a clearer look at McGregor. Deciding he’s quite handsome, she heads into her cottage. Meanwhile, McGregor continues with his work and reattaches one of the gates.

  “It’s all right. We can always go in the . . .” But before Peter can finish his thought, the new Mr. McGregor races around the garden, almost at hyper-speed, and reattaches the back gate. It’s like he is a superhero. “. . . back gate. All good. I can still climb over the . . .” Again, Peter’s words trail off as McGregor zooms around the garden. He sets about removing all the farm equipment surrounding the fence. “Whatever. He’ll never find the secret . . .”

  McGregor jams a stone in a hidden hole. And then another, for good measure.

  “Huh. I never even saw that hole,” says Peter.

  This new young McGregor has made getting into the garden very, very tricky indeed.