"The Thanksgiving Mouse"

by Joey Sciarra

On the eve of Thanksgiving I saw a little mouse. It was hiding in the cupboard near the back of my house. This is odd, what will my relatives think? To come over tomorrow and see a mouse above the sink.

So I raced to the market and bought several traps. I put them around the kitchen and they caught all of my cats. The cats began to yowl, they made an awful stink. Serves them right, I thought, for leaving a mouse above the sink.

By now the mouse had hidden, somewhere I could not see. The cats were all so hungry they were clawing at my knee. "Thanksgiving is tomorrow! You will all have plenty enough to eat." I told the cats while oblivious to the mouse chewing on a seat.

It made a little hole in a cushion my mother had made. That's the last straw, I thought, and went for the Raid. I sprayed it once, I think I sprayed it twice. Yet the mouse only looked at me, like Raid was good for mice.

"Tell me what you want, defiant little mouse. Tell me just this instant or be gone now from my house." Then suddenly I saw him. He had an evil grin. Some of my bread pudding was hanging from his chin.

"That pudding is for tomorrow" I shouted at this fiend. "Take warning from this moment, I will drive you from this scene." And grappling for a weapon I came upon a trap. It closed upon my fingers with an awful painful snap.

Defeated, I came to realize, beaten by a mouse. Caught my fingers in the trap, I bought to stop this rat. Suddenly I realized I was using the wrong approach. Battling with this tiny Mouse when I only wanted him out.

So I scooped a little pudding, from the spot he must have touched. I tossed it out the doorway, off toward the rabbit’s hutch. The mouse he only stood there as if he had not seen. So I scooped a little further and launched it past the screen.

Followed by the turkey, the dressing and the beets. My handsome lovely Feast wasted on a beast. And then the mouse he spoke to me, he said a single word. I was not sure he had spoken at first, but “thanks” is what I heard.

Then he scurried through the doorway without warning, tracks, nor scent. Off to claim his victory of my turkey and the rest. So I stood in a stupor, wondering if it were true. Had I really lost my dinner and perhaps my sanity too?

Perhaps I cannot convince you of a mouse that would say thanks. Or the feelings it would conjure in my humble memory banks. Take it just in passing for I'll let you wonder on...

See…outside I looked after standing, and all the food was gone.

© Joey Sciarra