12:29

It had been a real nice night, all those years ago. In retrospect, one couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening in which to stage one’s triumph. It still made the beaver smirk now and again when he realized how all the stars had aligned so perfectly. “Showed that damn bunny a thing or two,” the Beaver grunted between hacks and blew his nose on the faded red gingham hanky.

Weather had been perfect, the moon full and room full of expectant audience members eager for the finale. Not even the overblown ego of the pestiferous Peter Cottontail managed to break the spell he had cast over the room. Yes, all in all a perfect stage for a perfect ending. “Too bad about that wine, though…” the Beaver murmured, staring at the torn label in the yellowed cardboard box. “Yep, too, too bad…”