Martin the Warrior would kick their asses so hard the Mossflower monks would weep.

It’s a rat vs a mouse…rat hands down.

Okay, fuck this slander. Stuart’s a little bitch, but he’s a clever little bitch. That mf can fly a plane, drive a car, and man a sailboat. If he just met Remy in a dark alley, Remy would probably win, but with planning on his side (especially coordinating with the humans to get him what he needs), I’m betting on Stuart. Stuart defeated a fucking falcon who was trying to kill him. Not just defeated: straight-up murdered him. Also, Stuart is an actual accepted member of society with citizenship etc. and can actually speak, whereas Remy needs to rely on other means to communicate, and like three people understand he’s sapient and human-like. If this isn’t a fair fight, he could easily have the humans do his dirty work for him because to them, Remy is just a vermin. He could even just sic Snowbell on him. It took the entire colony of rats to take down – by surprise – one scrawny health inspector, so don’t give me that “Remy has backup too”. In fact, Stewart could probably just make himself a tiny gun.

TL;DR: Remy wins if it’s by surprise. Stewart probably wins with prep time if it’s one-on-one. Stewart destroys Remy if they can call for backup.

I want to hate Stuart Little, but god damn was E.B. White a good writer. Even The Elements of Style is a great read just as a book in my opinion.

A couple of quotes from Stuart Little:

In the loveliest town of all where the houses were white and high and the elm trees were green and higher than the houses where the front yards were wide and pleasant and the back yards were bushy and worth finding out about, where the streets sloped down to the stream and the stream flowed quietly under the bridge, where the lawns ended in orchards and the orchards ended in fields and the fields ended in pastures and the pastures climbed the hill and disappeared over the top toward the wonderful wide sky, in this loveliest of all towns Stuart stopped to get a drink of sarsaparilla.

Stuart rose from the ditch, climbed into his car, and started up the road that led toward the north…As he peeked ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction.

I can’t hate a book written that well even though Stuart was a little shit in the book as well.

Wilbur the pig was also a little shit.

I found this one crazy schizophrenic-sounding blog once and this person hated Stuart Little so much. I wonder if this is why.

Riff Raff? Street rat?

I don’t buy that.

The mouse on the motorcycle would win, duh.

Yeah and fuck Johnathan Lipnicky.

Me. I’d win.