He turned his head toward his inkwell. Standing right on the rim of the glass jar was Barnaby. He was three-dimensional, perfectly inked, and completely alive. The tiny mouse tipped his top hat toward Arthur, leaning casually on his drawn cane.
He blew on the wet ink to help it dry, resting his head on his arms for just a moment to close his eyes. cartoonist
Tired of drawing the same old political satire, Arthur decided to sketch something just for himself. He dipped his G-nib pen into the inkwell and drew a tiny, mischievous mouse wearing a top hat and a monocle. He named him Barnaby. Arthur gave Barnaby a wide, toothy grin and a cane, chuckling to himself at the absurdity of the character. He turned his head toward his inkwell
Arthur stared at the living cartoon, picked up his pencil with a shaking hand, and began to draw a steering wheel. The tiny mouse tipped his top hat toward
"No touching the merchandise! I'm still fresh!" Barnaby squeaked. "Now, if you don't mind, this desk is incredibly boring. Why don't you draw us a tiny sports car? I'd like to see the world."
A sharp, microscopic tap-tap-tap noise on the desk woke him up.
"The line work on my left leg is a bit heavy, don't you think?" Barnaby asked, his voice sounding like the squeak of a wet marker on a whiteboard. "But overall, a splendid job, Creator!"