The Wheedle has lived on the Needle for more than thirty years. His earmuffs tightly clamped on his head, he has been slumbering in peace without interruption. All would have stayed the same but for a sad mewling sound echoing through the night. Now the Wheedle has been rudely awoken from a sound sleep. What is that sound that now threatens the peace negotiated years ago? Awake and ready to bring year-round rain back on the kindly folds of Seattle,...