A Day in the Life of a Mouse

by Deanna Rittinger

“Hey Mousy, I brought you something.”  Clarence pulled a wad of bread out of his pocket and began meticulously separating out the lint and hairs from his precious present.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it over here yesterday.  Mom and dad were fighting again.  They always send me to my room when they do that.” 

Clarence had taken up talking to the mouse he had found in the knoll of the tree out in the woods behind his house.  It was a quiet place to think and explore.  Especially since his dad had lost his job three months ago.  The mouse seemed so nervous and twitchy, just the way he felt these days when he was hungry, that he shared his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with him.  For three weeks now, Clarence and the mouse had built up an understanding of one another.  As long as he brought food to him, the brown field mouse was tolerant of anything that Clarence might say.

“I know we are running out of money cause that’s what they were fighting about when they sent me to my room.  Why do they always send me to my room?  The walls don’t keep me from hearin’em… there’s nuthin to do but listen to them fight when I am in there.”  Clarence had delivered his offering to the mouse while on his knees and had just spun around to rest his back on the trunk while he continued, “Did you know Jason has a T. V. in his room?  That is sooo sweet!  Ours got zapped by that lighting storm last week, remember when I told you that?  I thought it was the coolest thing ever when it popped and sizzled … the smoke was stanky but it was worth it to see my dad jump clean outta his chair.  I bet he had to go change his shorts after that!”

Clarence picked up a nearby acorn that had little nibbles chewed into it and tossed it into the patch of weeds that bordered the cornfield his house backed up into.

“Except it’s not so good now, ‘cause we can’t afford to have a new one.  That stinks worse than that 'letrical fire.  That’s why you only got my crust this time; we don’t have much in the cupboards these days.  I used to be able to sneak stuff out and hide it under my bead.  That’s too risky these days, Mom caught me snitchin’ food last night and today her and dad are fighting again.  My butt is still sore!  I hate when she spanks me anyway but this time was weird!  She started out hitting me and shouting in her hissy whisper so as not to wake up daddy, but then she grabbed me and started crying and that was worse.”

Clarence dropped his head onto his arms that lay folded across his bent knees.  He sat quiet long enough to hear the woodsy sounds return.  A cricket chirruped, a squirrel chattered and scampered back up the tree across from him and a flock of birds startled into flight from something.

“They have really been fighting a lot these days.  Do you think they will get divorced?”  Clarence looked over into the hidey-hole to find that the mouse had disappeared. 

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Mousey; I will be back again tomorrow.  I am gonna go see if Jason will let me watch his T.V.”

Clarence ambled back through the narrow footpath that opened to his back yard and shuffled down the sidewalk kicking a stone.

Kelly stood up from behind the bush and allowed the circulation to return to her legs and feet.  Her curiosity was peaked as she saw him feed the critter in the hole in the tree and she hastily dropped behind the bush so as not to be caught spying on him when he turned to sit.  She nearly swallowed the breath mint she’d popped into her mouth when he tossed the acorn over her head.

Hearing her son’s confession to the mouse reminded her how fragile childhood was. 

Struck with a sudden silly thought, Kelly picked her way to the knoll, spit out the sliver of white mint into her hand and set it as her offering to the mouse.  With her gaze wandering the small patch of woods and her voice raised for him to hear she said, “Thank you Mr. Mouse, I needed to hear what he had to say.  I hope you have a long life.”

Kelly carefully stepped her way back to the mouth of the path and stopped before entering it.  Twisting back, she threw over her shoulder, “Just don’t get any ideas about visiting Clarence at the house okay?”

Deanna Rittinger lives in Michigan, where she and her husband raise five children.  When not doing laundry, you can find her at the keyboard, working on another story or posting at her writers workshop forum http://rittinger.admiralxp.com.  Her speculative fiction work Mantle of Responsibility  is found in the November 5 2004, issue of www.Ultraverse.us, Volume 1, Issue 7.  She has also had work published at Cybertown Virtual News, both Daily and Weekly editions. You can E-mail her at: DeaRitt13@yahoo.com for more information.  See her website:   http://rittinger.admiralxp.com