The Muse and the Mouse

The Muse and the Mouse

“I don’t want to do it,” said the roach, preening his hind leg nervously. A bit of dust garbled his words, twisting his whining into unintelligible clips. The mouse raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side, pausing, then her eyes widened like two tiny saucers as she finally grasped her anxious cohort’s meaning.

She could not believe this. He was too scared to do it, again.

“Of course you don’t,” She said, leaning back onto her hind legs and folding her arms across her chest. “And just what do you think will happen once she’s gone, for good? You’ve seen her. Moping. Pacing back and forth like a wildcat. If she keeps on like this, we’ll staaarrrve.” Henni’s whiskers shook and her eyes watered.

Couldn’t this imbecile just do what he’s told, for once?

“You know the idea. Word for word. All you have to do is…” Henni pleaded.

Gert coughed, clearing the dust particles from his mouth in a puff. He didn’t know whether to sigh or shake with nerves. This impetuous mouse was going to be the death of him.

“I do not want to do it! She scares the exoskeleton off me. Her breath is a roar I simply cannot bear. She’ll suck me in!” Gert harrumphed and scuttled into the safety of the seam between floorboards, scanning the edge of the bed with growing dread.

“Why don’t you do it, if it’s so important to you? What do I care? I’ll gnaw on the walls themselves before I let that beast suck me up her gaping nostril! Now, go away! You’re making my antennae twitch.”

“Because I’m too big. When I go up there she stirs in her sleep. I’m can't get close to her ear. We’ve had this conversation a billion times. I am utterly exhausted of it. Just gooo." Henni tried shooing Gert toward the bed.

"Whisssper! Whisssper!" She cooed, "And voila! Just like last time. Remember the coffee… and crumbs… and TAKE OUT!"

Henni waved the air as if to stir up a memory. Her mouth beaded with saliva, rolling to a drip on her slant of a chin, pooling into the soft tufts of hair on her neck.

That did it.

She could see him stiffen, his darting antennae stilling. How Gert loved those papery bags laden with grease, those little bits of hardened fry in the bottom.

Gert drew himself to his full height, steadied his nerves, and took one last look at the height he was about to climb, the lumps of comforter he’d have to navigate.

He’d done this before. He could do this again.

“Ok?” Henni asked, clasping her hands to her chin, hoping her face looked calm, supportive, got-your-six and all that. Not the smugness. Gert hated smug. She lifted her whiskers into a last-ditch pleading smile.

“Ok,” Gert answered, and with that, he was off.

Gert traversed the span of floorboard planking first, his body surfing the cracks between boards—quickly! efficiently!—and only once did his hind leg dangle between them.

He felt the soaring of spirit that comes when one dares—dares!—to go beyond the safety of the darkened corners…out into the middle of the room. The no-no space. Even worse, he was now scurrying up the smooth wooden leg of the giant four-poster bed that housed her.

Gert made quick progress on the mounds of fabric until the roar of her breath seized the attention of his antennae, forcing him to stop and regroup his nerves.

Just a few more paces—Whisssper. Whisssper—and this horrible deed would be done.

Gert crawled across the tufts of hair sprawled out across the pillow, then tucked his face into the dark hole on the side of her stilled head.

Gert took a breath and screamed out the words. As loud as he could!

He remembered every word, too. He e-nun-ci-a-ted. And then, as her snores rumbled his legs and shook his exoskeleton into a frenzy of quakes, he felt her calming. He felt her sigh escaping her lips in a purr.

The deed done, Gert flew! He raced! Back across the expanse of bed, the smooth wooden leg to the floor, the wide planking and in one final push—he was safe! He was back in the dark corner of the floor where tucked in grin and shadow, Henni waited.

The next morning, Gert and Henni watched the bed.

They listened. They waited impatiently, Henni marching in a back-and-forth pace. Gert shivering with fear.

Finally, she rose.

It was such a swift movement that Gert and Henni tucked themselves together against the baseboard in the corner of the room, Gert’s tiny legs wrapped around Henni’s pointy face in a blinded panic. He quickly withdrew, smoothing his antenna as if the embarrassing moment of weakness had not overtaken him.

She stretched. Then swept her feet to the floor and grabbed up her talking lightbox and held it to her ear.

“Hey…Suze! You won’t believe it. I have my idea! Finally!” She exclaimed, her shouts sending pulses of tremor through the air. Gert and Henni steadied their feet on the floor.

“Yes! It came to me in a dream! The most perfect idea for my third book. My agent will love it! I’m starting right away. You wanna come over tonight and help me edit through the first part? I’ll order Chi-nee-eese...”

“Ohhh, I looove Chinese food,” Henni said, lifting her hand to high-five Gert’s spindly leg.

“They have those sticky bits. And those flappy boxes with the foldy corners.” Gert said, coughing again, his breath a tiny whir of musk and dust and triumph.