Rainbows in Hell

The crashing riverbank was melodic.  Only if it had been night.  To it's harmonic ripples and crashes, a requiem could be sung.  Oh!  A lament!  A song to woo the perfect lady, too!  So many possibilities.  For now, the little rat would practice.  Once a rock could be suitable enough for a podium.  The first was a little flat.  The next too jagged.  "Oooohhh, what does it take to find a decent rock about here?"  The russet male whined incessantly, until the perfect stone came into view.  It wasn't too large or small, too tall or short, too smooth or jagged.  It was absolutely perfect.  A happy yip escaped the small brute, as he slid easily onto the surface, clearing his throat.

"Mooooooooo."  Too low of a note for his liking.  After a few more tries and some attempts at humming, he had honed his singing ability to a keen note, giving a long cry into the wind, beckoning any company.  Perhaps a singing partner, or a new friend.  A new friend would be nice.