A Doubtful Solution
Lucybee Cartwright

 

'I'm so hungry I could eat a cheese the size of a watermelon!" Oh, sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Theodore and I am the mouse who once spoke those words. That was the day I was just about on my last legs. For weeks I had hardly had a cracker crumb, to say nothing of a cheese any size at all.

I was living at a parsonage then, and that is where my story begins. Those were some pretty bleak days. Have you ever heard the expression, poor as a church mouse? Well I am here to tell you a parsonage mouse is even poorer. Parsons tend to tidiness you know, and my parson was no exception. Oh he was good in many ways, gentle and kindhearted, and like most Welsh rabbits he had an excellent singing voice. But so rarely did he spill any crumbs (quite frankly he loved to eat), that I often went without.

In fact it was on one of my hungriest days that I resolved it was time to gather my few possessions and set out in search of a new home. I hated to do it for I had often felt the parson to be a lonely soul, but you see I had no choice. "Now where is my knapsack?" I muttered to myself, rustling around the mousehole. Suddenly I remembered I had eaten it one evening for dinner. Now that should tell you just how far down I had come in the world. Few possessions indeed! I had NO possessions, with which to embark on my new life.

So - with nothing but uncertain hopes and the fur on my back, I set out. Luckily I hadn't gone far before I came upon a likely house. And right in my own neighborhood. Two rabbits I had heard about lived inside: an elderly rabbit named Grandpa and his grandson, a bunny named Duffy. As I neared the house, my nose began to twitch. I decided to pay a visit and was soon convinced I need look no further. Crumbs were plentiful and easy to be had. "The mousehole's a bit dusty," I noted, "but there's always time enough to tidy up. "

But trouble seemed to follow my steps in those days. All too soon a relative of the rabbits, an Aunt Fluoridine Thompson, was to threaten my new and easy life. "I've decided." she announced, fastening the door behind her, " the two of you need someone to cook and clean up after you. As yet she knew nothing of me.

Though deep down her motives were noble, Aunt Florrie had a determined look about her. She was tall and angular and she had ticked fur. From the very first, she took over. "What's this?" she questioned, spying a tower of aging magazines. They were Grandpa's hoard collected over the years. She suggested that Grandpa 'get rid of the old things' - or she would!

After that it wasn't long before she discovered Duffy's insect collection. "Bugs carry disease you know!" she advised. "Duffy, you'd better take these out to the shed!"

Grandpa and Duffy were miserable; they didn't know WHAT to do. But when Aunt Florrie came home armed with 2 mousetraps and a hunk of rat cheese, I felt it was high time somebody took action.

Early next morning I called my two best friends to a conference. They were Simon, a rabbit Duffy's age, and Tweedy, a bluebird. I know, I know - rabbits and birds don't usually pick mice as friends, but I guess I was just blessed that way!

"Simon, I began, "Are you aware that Grandpa and Duffy are having a BIG problem with Aunt Florrie."

"Yeah, Duffy told me!" Simon shook his head. "He said she's a good cook, but she keeps trying to organize him. He doesn't want to be organized and neither does Grandpa. She made them get rid of all their favorite stuff!"

"It's even more serious than that," I announced. "Now she wants rid of me!"

"No way!" Simon was shocked.

"It's true," I said. "And just when things were looking up for me."

"Boy, that is just a pity. You must despise Aunt Florrie!" I could see Simon was more than a little upset on my behalf.

 "No, no," I answered, "mice become accustomed to being unpopular, but I do need to do something and fast! I thought of a good plan, but I need you and Tweedy to help."

"What is it?" Simon wanted to know.

"Yes, tell us!" Tweedy twitted.

"Well, tomorrow Aunt Florrie will be baking pies. She bakes three every Friday you know and puts them in the window to cool. Simon, I want you to come over tomorrow and steal one of those pies."

"What!" Simon gasped. "Stealing is wrong - and it's dangerous! If my mom found out she would ground me 'til next January. And no telling what Pop would do. Forget it!"

"But if you gave the pie away, it wouldn't really be stealing would it?" I had a ready answer I was soon to regret. You see I knew stealing to be wrong even if one does give away what one steals.

"Well. . . " Simon sounded unsure.

I tried to appear thoughtful, "I guess I could always move in with your family."

"Okay, so who should I give it to?" Simon was suddenly more positive.

I thought I had it all figured out. "After you snatch the pie, Simon, you gotta' make tracks down the street to the parson's house. Parson never locks his door. Sneak in the back and leave the pie on the table in the parlor. The parson will think some kind soul left him a surprise."

"But can't I do something?" Tweedy chirped.

"Okay, Tweedy. You know the elm near the kitchen window? Stay there until I give the signal, then warble for all you're worth!"

"But why?" Tweedy twitted.

"It's like this, Tweedy. Florrie loves to hear you sing, so she'll come right up to the window. Then she'll notice a pie is missing and she'll see Simon hopping away with it. She's bound to run after him."

"But why do you want her to chase Simon?" Tweedy chirped again.

"That's the beauty of my plan," I explained all too patiently. "Now what is it that Florrie likes best?"

"She likes a neat house?" Simon guessed. "
 
"And what is she good at?"

 "Cooking pies!" Tweedy chortled.

"And?" Simon piped up.

"Well, who do we know keeps a tidy house, and loves to eat?"

"I don't know," Simon scratched one ear with a hind foot.

"I do, I do!" Tweedy all but warbled out of her feathers. "It's the parson!!"

"Right!" I nodded. "Now you're getting someplace."

"Oh! Oh, wow!" Simon expostulated. "That's a very good plan! WEDDING BELLS, huh? If we can get those two together, your troubles will be over and everybody will be happy!"

"So, will you do it?"

Simon and Tweedy touched wing and forepaw together, "Alright!'

The hour arrived and all went - well almost - according to plan. When Florrie took out after Simon, I followed at a safe distance. I watched as Simon ran down the street and into the parsonage with the pie. But when he came out, suddenly his mom appeared out of nowhere. The last I saw of them, she was pulling him by one ear, and they were moving at a good clip.

Well, Florrie just stood outside the parsonage, for once at a loss for words. Shortly, Parson came barreling out the door, looking quite pale. "Help! he called. "Help! I'm ill! I've just eaten a whole gooseberry pie."

Boy did I feel terrible. I had made a jumble of everything. Now the parson was sick, Simon was in trouble, and it would all be my fault. But just as I was about to confess, Florrie got her voice back.

"Why Parson," she trilled, "Did you really think the pie that delicious? "I know just the cure for dyspepsia. Baking Soda! And is it true what I've heard, that you keep your house neat as a pin? As usual Aunt Florrie didn't wait for an answer. She had hold of Parson's elbow and was steering him toward the corner store. I had no doubt she would take care of things.

As I turned toward home that day, it was with a sense of relief - and thanksgiving! But what a narrow escape! I learned that it is dangerous to meddle and worse to lead one's friends astray. But in the end things turned out better than I deserved.

I'm happy to report that Parson and Aunt Florrie had a nice church ceremony as ever I have seen: the wedding cake was excellent. Simon and Tweedy eventually forgave me. And too, because of Aunt Florrie, Grandpa and Duffy even learned to be better housekeepers. Well - not too much better, thank goodness. There are still plenty of crumbs for a hungry mouse.
The End.

 

 

Copyright © 2005 Lucybee Cartwright
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"