The Frank — And Beans Quandary

Beans, meanwhile, had escaped his cage via a flaw in the latch that Frank had been meaning to fix for six months. The ferret, driven by some ancient weasel imperative, ascended the dish towel draped over the oven handle, dropped onto the counter, and squeezed into the chili pot.

The neighborhood potluck that evening was chili-less. Frank brought a bag of store-brand tortilla chips and a haunted look in his eyes. Sheila told the story to everyone. Beans spent the night in a cardboard box, wearing a tiny, improvised cone made from a coffee filter, plotting his next move. the frank and beans quandary

Frank owned the pot. Frank was a structural engineer with a tidy mind and a three-ring binder for his grocery receipts. Beans owned the small, damp apartment above Frank’s garage. Beans was a rescued ferret with a genius for mischief and a particular vendetta against zippers. Beans, meanwhile, had escaped his cage via a