Ferg-- that's with a 'g,' not an 'n'-- was a cat burglar.

Only instead of stealing cats, she stole something else.

(thunderclap) (shutter clicks) Why Ferg, whatever are you doing?

Oh!

Um, nothing, Ladella.

I was just leaving.

(beeping) I believe you have something of mine.

(laughs nervously) What do you mean?

You have stolen something that is very, very valuable to me.

My stories!

FERN: Wait a minute... Ladella couldn't let Ferg steal the story of Uncle Silas and his parrot, which he did not steal from a French circus but bought at the pet store in the mall.

And then... Hey, that was about me!

It's just a story.

See, the name's different.

You want a story?

Fine!

I'm writing one right now about a girl named Ladoona who doesn't understand the creative process.

Oh, yeah?

I'm writing a story about a writer named Ferm who won't admit that she steals stories!

I'm not a thief!

I tried to call you, but you were asleep.

Excuse me, but these new stories that you're writing?

They sound very dull.

I want her to admit that she was using stories about my family.

I wasn't.

That could've been any bad-joke-telling parrot.

And Sable isn't Mable and Silas isn't Cyrus!

I mean, Cyrus isn't...

Okay, I admit it!

I have writer's block.

I have no more ideas left.

I'm finished.

And I just got carried away.

I didn't think of it as stealing, but I guess it was.

I'm sorry.

Well, but you did start writing again.