thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud I can feel my heart pounding through my chest and I'm not sure how I got here but man I gotta get out. Holy Mouses, what is that? pointy ears, 18 times my size, pointy teeth and a definite look of hunger (perhaps underscored by stupidity and laziness) in its eyes. That's a cat. Try not to panic. Okay. Panic. I am going to die.
from the wings we here a voice yelling, "squish, what the hell are you doing? chill out." this is followed by barely audible mutterings of "my cats are ridiculous, what is up with them tonight?"
I've got the little morsel fixed in my stare, and I can see him begin to waver as he falls under my spell. Just a few seconds more. And who said I couldn't be an accomplished huntress if I didn't have all four feet? Honestly. They have no idea. Cause I'm stealthy and slick and I've got the look. Yeah, the look that makes small furry creatures with long skinny tales freeze in their tracks.
an orange tabby enters from stage left
hey, what's going on, dude. why are you making so much noise? holy cats, what is that! it's a toy, right? play play play play. it kind of reminds me of my favorite toy. except it's a little bit bigger. and it twitches like that stupid buzzing mouse toy the owner brought home once that i hate. wait a minute. it's a MOUSE! a real one. whatta we do, whatta we do, whatta we do. hold on. i've got these claws. and maybe i can catch it and drown it in the water bowl.
a slight hiss
Would you go away fatso. I've got this under control. And the owner doesn't even know what's going on. This one is mine. So just get lost.
mouse tears across the room followed by two cat-like blurs. owner realizes something is not quite right and gets up to see what exactly has transpired.
Oh my god, a mouse! Nut, Squish, leave the mouse alone! No, go away, don't hurt it!
Owner, Nut, and Squish form wide and very penetrable semi-circle around mouse. mouse freezes.
thudthudthudthudthudthudthud what do i do! i'm trapped and they're going to eat me and what is that giant not-cat thing that's yelling so loud and i'm too young to die and maybe if i stand here really still they'll get confused and think i'm just one of those stupid mouse toys that are lying all over the place. oh why wasn't i born bright blue with a neon pink tail? i'd be safe then. oh god oh god oh god.
owner, continuing to admonish cats, backs away quickly, making a run for the kitchen and a suitable dish under which to trap mouse, only to return to find that mouse is in between the bookshelves.
Oh crap. You stupid cats I told you to leave the mouse alone. Get away!
Owner gets on hands and knees, desperate to grab mouse before he disappears under something, but it's too late. Mouse slips under the bookshelf. Owner desperately begins pulling books from the shelf and stacking them on the floor, all the while glancing crazily about to make sure that mouse doesn't escape in another direction. the cats stand guard as well, trying to slide their paws into the too small space between the bookshelf and the wall.
CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP. Nutmeg and Squish, this is all your fault!
cats look at owner with disdain
our fault? we'd have had this mouse dispatched of if you hadn't stuck your big nose in our business.
Owner wrestles bookshelf away from wall, but mouse is far too intelligent for this and scoots with the bookshelf, staying safely out of sight.
haha, you'll never get me now. thudthudthudthud.
mouse's triumph is frail and tenuous, ending all too soon, as owner leans bookshelf at bizarre angle against the wall, allowing cats access to mouse's furry little body. mouse shoots across the carpet, around a bag of yarn, past a shoe, over a shoe box, pursued hotly by cats and owner. he races for the cover of a chair, a coffee table, the craft area, but nowhere is tight enough to feel secure. still pursued, he makes a desperate run past the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom, ducking behind a dresser.
No, not the dresser! Stupid cats, leave the mouse alone!
Owner runs back to the kitchen in search of something bigger than a drinking cup, feeling that a larger container will increase the likelihood that she'll be able to catch the mouse despite slow reflexes. she settles on a casserole dish. not ideal, but it will have to do.
Okay mouse, I don't want to hurt you. Just come out and I'll catch you and put you outside. I promise.
Cats circle like hungry sharks waiting for the last stranded sailor to give up and sacrifice himself to their whims. Owner peers under dresser, shoos cats away, then decides locking cats in the bathroom will help solve this problem and make mouse trust her.
Mouse, where did you go?
Owner rips all the drawers out of the dresser, picks it up and moves it across the room, jilts lamps and piles of books, heaves on the mattress trying to peer behind the bed. Mouse has vanished.
Come one mouse. You don't belong here. You don't want to be here. It's not a safe place.
Owner considers that mouse's presence is sure confirmation of something she's long suspected: that her apartment seriously needs cleaned. She also ponders the old adage that if there's one their must be two.
Okay mouse, I don't know where you went, but you can stay as long as you promise not to bring any friends.
Owner cajoles, hoping that mouse will poke his head out to thank her. She continues shoving furniture and piles around, even looks under a teddy bear in search of mouse. After a few minutes, she lets the cats out.
Okay cats, find the mousie!
Cats stare at owner incredulously.
who do you think you're kidding? you've ruined this whole thing for us, bub. we're not finding your stupid mouse.
Cats wander in to living room. Owner sits on floor of room clutching casserole dish to her chest, glaring down the hall at her worthless cats.
You cats are worthless. The cartoon cats on my pajamas would be better at mouse catching than you.
Owner sighs and begins righting upturned furniture and lamps, slides drawers back into the dresser.
I think I'll call him Maxwell.
*editor's note: it should be explained that Maxwell "Houdini" Mouse has yet to reappear, and has probably burrowed deep into the box spring of owner's bed. It should also be said that owner and owner's landlord are extremely grateful that cats did not kill Mr. Mouse on the oatmeal colored carpet. For entirely different reasons. Owner is convinced that every sound she hears is Maxwell scurrying for the nearest exit, and will spend rest of evening in slight state of panic, but for some reason feels more compelled to blog the episode than clean her obviously messy apartment.
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1 comment:
haha, I think variations on this tale are being played out across the city of Baltimore... I feel that my own tale, though not as exciting, has been happening right under my nose involving a nibbled bag of popcorn, subtle scurrying noises, and a dog who's not quite sure what's going on.
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