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Remy let out a sigh, having finished cooking for the day, and headed up to the attic of the Bistro. His ear twitched, hearing the television Linguini gave to the rat colony for entertainment purposes. The sound of the trumpet came across the screen, drawing him over. Émile waved him over. “Come and look at this. It’s another you.”
“Another me?” Remy came over, expecting to see another rat cooking at the restaurant. Instead, he saw a trumpeter swan playing the trumpet with other swans behind him, and quite well. “Hey. What’s with the slate around his neck.”
“Apparently, this Louis learned to play that instrument,” his brother said.
“Trumpet,” Remy noted. “It’s called a trumpet, and he’s a trumpeter swan.”
“Well, okay.” His brother shook his head. “Apparently, this trumpeter swan learned to play the trumpet because he was mute. This is footage all the way from America.”
“He’s actually pretty good,” Remy said.
“I think so,” his brother said, turning back to the television as a few other rats did highly entertained by the television.
“So, yeah. Another me in a way,” Remy responded to nobody in particular. “Too bad he’s all the way in America. I’d sure like to meet this fellow groundbreaker.”