By P.K. Silverson
© Copyright 2009
By The Author
All Rights Reserved
In a corner of a castle in a land of far away, in a remote tower by the moat, there was a hole in the bottom of a wall.
It was not a very large hole at all, hardly noticeable from a distance of more than ten or twenty paces at best. But it was a fine little hole, none-the-less. It was just big enough to provide a nice warm, cozy home, safe from the gales of winter and the rains of spring, to a gentle grey rat.
In fact, the only complaint the gentle grey rat had with his fine little hole in the bottom of a wall in a remote tower in a corner of a castle near the moat in a land of far away was this… sometimes, not always, but just sometimes, he was lonely.
One day, the gentle grey rat had a wonderful idea. “I’ll take in a roommate,” he declared aloud to no one in particular, so pleased was he with his inspiration.
He rang up the local paper and bought four lines in the Sunday classifieds for just that purpose. This is what the ad said:
LODGER WANTED.
Perfect accommodations for a
rodent looking for company.
Respond care of this paper.
The notice ran without a single typographical error as scheduled. Two days later, the gentle grey rat presented himself at the offices of the paper to pick up his correspondence on the matter. A single letter awaited him, which was enough in and of itself, because it had been written by a pleasant white mouse whose references were impeccable.
The gentle grey rat and the pleasant white mouse hit it off the moment they met and quickly became fast friends. So happy was the gentle grey rat at this good fortune, he invited his new comrade to bunk in with him in the fine little hole in the bottom of a wall in a remote tower in a corner of a castle near the moat in a land of far away.
To his great delight, the pleasant white mouse accepted this proposal on the spot. And, because the pleasant white mouse traveled light, as Rodentia are wont to do, he was able to move in that very afternoon with plenty of time left for tea after all.
“It just doesn’t get any better than this,” the gentle grey rat remarked as he poured himself a second cup. The pleasant white mouse quite agreed, for they had the run of the castle and easy access to everything they could ever need.
Their arrangement worked splendidly. For days and weeks and months on end, the gentle grey rat and the pleasant white mouse foraged separately for food in the mornings after the others in the castle in the land of far away had gone on about their business, then returned to the fine little hole in the bottom of a wall in a remote tower near the moat with their prizes. They spent their afternoons feasting and their evenings engaged in pleasant conversations which often lasted well into the night. When they retired to their beds of soft, fresh straw, they were safe from the gales of winter and the rains of spring.
But, while the gentle grey rat and the pleasant white mouse were quite satisfied with the hand life had dealt them, there were those in the castle of the land of far away who were not so pleased. More and more frequently, royal pantry maids noticed corners missing from wheels of the finest cheeses. The head baker could see the tasty ends had been nibbled away from the loaves of bread he had freshly baked. Even the stable master realized small bales of straw where being liberated on a frequent basis.
“We have pests,” they decided when they put their heads together. “And somebody better do something about it soon.”
So the pantry maids and the head baker and the stable master set off together to the remotest tower of the castle in the land of far away and presented themselves at the door of the Royal Wizard himself. “This castle is infested with pests,” they declared, “and somebody better do something about it soon.”
The Royal Wizard arched his eyebrows and knitted his brow and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing emptily through the processed air circulating through the reception area of his famous-but-secret laboratory. “This is a petty problem,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “I’ll take care of it in short order.”
“See that you do,” the head baker told him, “or I’ll send the nibbled loaves of bread to your table instead of the day-old shop in town.” And with that, the pantry maids, the head baker and the stable master stormed out of the remotest tower of the castle in the land of far away, relieved to be safely out from under the ancient sorcerer’s contemptuous stare.
“Imbeciles,” the Royal Wizard snorted, borne back into his private office on a cushioned puff of air he often conjured up to save his aging feet the tedious job of walking when no one else was about. He reached into the deepest recesses of his desk and pulled out a pair of wire traps.
With a wave of his wand, the empty traps vanished, reappearing a mere nanosecond later near the base of the wall of the remote tower in the corner of a castle near the moat in the land of far away. But the traps were no longer empty. The corner of now held a generous slice of the most aromatic cheese, a corner of the freshest baked bread and a small bowl of the finest wine to boot.
Of course, neither the gentle grey rat nor the pleasant white mouse could resist these tempting invitations. Soon, they were drawn out of their comfortable little hole.
“What a wonderful feast!” the gentle grey rat remarked.
“I don’t know,” said the pleasant white mouse. “This just seems a little too easy.”
“Life is good,” the gentle grey rat told his friend with a knowing smile. “You shouldn’t always be so suspicious.”
Before the pleasant white mouse could speak another word of protest, the gentle grey rat entered the trap with the larger share of goodies. In a mere instant, the door of the trap slammed shut behind him.
“Oh, no!” the pleasant white mouse shrieked. “They’re onto us. I knew this was too good to last.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the gentle grey rat said somewhat unclearly, because his mouth was full of the most delicious cheese he had ever tasted. “Come on in. The food is great.”
“No way,” the pleasant white mouse backed off several paces. “They’ll never take me alive.”
“Suit yourself,” the gentle grey rat said, setting to his repast in earnest.
The pleasant white mouse backed further into the shadows of the castle wall, watching and waiting while his unfortunate friend supped in captive comfort. In short order, the food and drink was gone from the trap and the gentle grey rat turned back to the door which had closed behind him.
He knocked once on the bars but the door did not open. He smiled knowingly at his friend, the pleasant white mouse, and knocked again on the door. Still it held fast. Quite put off at this point, the gentle grey rat called out to no one in particular, “This has all been quite wonderful, but I’ve finished my food now and I’d very much like to go on about my business.”
Yet, still the door held fast.
“Oh, my poor, poor friend,” the pleasant white mouse shook his head in despair.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the gentle grey rat lay down on the floor of the trap to rest after his fine meal. “Someone will be along presently to let me out and this whole business will be nothing but a silly memory.”
He smiled broadly once again and was gone in a sudden flash of light and smoke, along with both the traps and the food the pleasant white mouse had refused to touch.
“Yikes!” the pleasant white mouse shrieked when he regained his shocked sensibilities a few moments later. Without a single further thought of the comforts of the fine little hole, he hastily took his leave of the castle in the land of far away. The pleasant white mouse ran and ran and ran and ran. He ran until he could not possibly run another step.
When he stopped running, he found himself at the far end of town at the bottom of the hill by the side of a small house down a well-worn lane off the main street. In the corner of the garden, there was a small crack at the base of the wall.
Night was coming quickly and the pleasant white mouse was still scared out of his very wits. He made for the crack and found it just big enough to accommodate him comfortably. So there he stayed.
After a day or two of nervous trembling and a night or two of tortured dreams, the pleasant white mouse suddenly realized he hadn’t had even a single bite to eat since his friend the gentle grey rat had disappeared. His tummy protested against this abusive treatment, and the pleasant white mouse conceded the point.
Carefully, oh, so very carefully, he crept out of the crack at the base of the wall in the side of the small house in the corner of the garden down a well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town at the bottom of the hill of the castle of the land of far away. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. The pleasant white mouse had almost forgotten how big and bright the world could be, having lived for days and weeks and months on end in the fine little hole at the bottom of the wall in a remote tower of the castle by the moat.
“It just doesn’t get any better than this,” the pleasant white mouse said to himself as he set off to explore his new surroundings and to scare up a meal.
The pleasant white mouse crept slowly up the well-worn lane toward the main street that ran through town, his whiskers twitching and his nose in the air, alert to the possibility of an inviting aroma or the scent of danger. But there was neither. All morning long, he searched the length of the main street. And all afternoon, he scoured the alley-ways and back lanes. But there was no food.
That night, the pleasant white mouse returned to the safety of the crack at the base of the wall in the side of the small house in the corner of the garden down a well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town at the bottom of the hill of the castle of the land of far away, hungrier than he had been for a long, long time. He fell asleep on the hard dirt of the earth at the bottom of the crack. His stomach complained harder than ever before. He dreamed troubled dreams filled with the wide smile of his friend, the gentle grey rat which beckoned him to come home to the fine little hole in the remote tower of the castle. In his dreams, the pleasant white mouse had just accepted this wonderful invitation when the smile vanished along with his friend the gentle grey rat and the fine little hole. The pleasant white mouse woke drenched in cold sweat, screaming in horror.
The next morning, the pleasant white mouse’s tummy began to howl early. Driven by a terrible need, he again crept out of the crack. It was raining a cold, driving early spring rain. In less than a twitch of his tale, the pleasant white mouse was soaked from head to toe. He vaguely considered ducking back into the dry safety of the crack at the base of the wall in the little house, but his argumentative stomach just would not have it. So he pressed on, creeping through the garden to the front door of the little house down the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town at the bottom of the hill of the castle of the land of far away. To his amazement, there was just enough room between the door and its frame for him to squeeze through.
The house was quite small, but tidy and well kept. Best of all, it was dry. In the far corner of the room, on the wall opposite the crack in which the poor pleasant white mouse had been sleeping, was a simple fire place. In it burned a warming fire. On a small rug by the side of the hearth slept a lean yellow cat with bold black stripes across his back.
Up on his haunches, the pleasant white mouse pressed back against the door of the little house, his whiskers quivering. But his empty tummy kept up its steady complaint. The pleasant white mouse knew something had to be done about it very, very soon. So, he gathered up his courage and crept quietly across the room, doing his very best not to make a single sound to avoid disturbing the cat’s sound slumber. Slowly he crept. Oh, so very slowly. And quietly, too. He was as quiet as a mouse could possibly be. He successfully negotiated his way across the floor of the little house until he finally came to the tiny pantry tucked away behind the stairs. In the pantry, he found the remains of a cake up on a high shelf. Without a second thought, he made short work of it.
But when he turned to leave the pantry, he was dismayed to see that the lean yellow cat with bold black stripes was no longer fast asleep on the rug at the side of the warming fire. He was standing at the bottom of the pantry, his cold green eyes lit with an icy fire.
“Ho, friend mouse,” the lean yellow cat said heartily. “I hope you’ve eaten your fill from my gentle mistress’s pantry.”
“Thank you, I have,” the pleasant white mouse said nervously.
“Good,” the lean yellow cat licked his lips hungrily. “That should make you an even bigger morsel for my supper.”
With that, the lean yellow cat leaped up at the pleasant white mouse, batting at him with a practiced paw. Without a second of hesitation, the pleasant white mouse sprang out from the pantry shelf, eluding the lean yellow cat’s paw by scant inches. He heard the angry cat yowl behind him as he skittered across the floor of the little house, but he knew better than to look back.
In the nick of time, he slid through the tiny space between the door and its frame. Again he found himself back in the pouring rain. In an instant, he was thoroughly drenched once more. But the thud on the door behind him as the pursuing cat crashed against it convinced him this was a far preferable state to the alternative.
He scampered quickly back through the garden to the crack in the wall. There he hid for the rest of the day. For days and weeks and months on end, the pleasant little white mouse fended for himself. Some days, the foraging was good. Some days he came home hungrier than when he’d left. Some days he was chased by the lean yellow cat. Some days the lean yellow cat was off being chased by the neighborhood mastiff.
The pleasant white mouse learned to survive on his own initiative and wits and only lost the tip of his tale to a spring trap laid out for him, which was considerably better than the time the lean yellow cat caught him off guard and chewed off his ear.
The pleasant white mouse came to learn, in time, that the little house down the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town at the bottom of the hill of the castle of the land of far away was occupied by a beautiful young maiden who worked as a scullery maid for a well-to-do matron in the fine house out by the grove.
The well-to-do matron, it was rumored, had married the father of the beautiful young maiden who worked as her scullery maid, then harassed the poor man to death. Under the land of far away’s community property laws, the fine house out by the grove fell to the beautiful young maiden’s father’s widow, along with his fortune. The well-to-do matron took up residence in the fine house out by the grove with her two homely step-daughters, shunting off the beautiful maiden to the servant’s cottage and paying her a meager salary to keep her from starving to death, which would have been bad for appearances.
Back in the castle on the hill in the land of far away, the good king of all the land had decided the time had come for his one and only son to take a wife. He sent his most-trusted messengers far and wide to find a girl of noble birth who would make a worthy bride for the good king’s son. But the young man found none who pleased him from among the candidates who answered this call.
In dismay, the good king of all the land turned to his Royal Wizard for advice. The Royal Wizard arched his eyebrows and knitted his brow and shrugged his shoulders, gesturing emptily through the processed air circulating through the reception area of his famous-but-secret laboratory. “This is a petty problem,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “Just schedule a royal ball for tonight, and I’ll take care of it in short order.”
“See that you do,” the good king of all the land told him, “or I’ll send for a replacement and set you up in an old shop in town. Royal balls cost money.” With that, the good king of all the land stormed out of the remotest tower of the castle in the land of far away, relieved to be safely out from under the ancient sorcerer’s contemptuous stare.
The Royal Wizard wafted back to the recesses of his most-secret laboratory on a floating carpet he called upon whenever his knees ached from kneeling before the good king. He selected from his supply shelves a great golden pumpkin and several creatures of various description. With smile and a wave of his wand, he vanished from his own most-secret laboratory. His atomic particles were re-assembled a mere breath of a nanosecond later in the middle of the well-worn lane off the main street which ran through town at the bottom of the hill of the castle of the land of far away, right in front of the amazed eyes of the pleasant white mouse.
But the Royal Wizard no longer looked like himself. Instead, he looked like a fairy princess. The golden pumpkin had become a magnificent carriage. The several creatures of various description has become horses and horsemen and carriage drivers and royal attendants.
The Royal Wizard who no longer looked like himself knocked briskly on the cottage door. When the beautiful young maiden who worked as a scullery maid answered it, he presented himself as her Fairy Godmother. In short order, as he had always claimed, the Royal Wizard smooth-talked the beautiful young maiden who worked as a scullery maid into allowing herself to wear an elegant gown of his design and to accept the use of the coach and coachmen as his-or-her gift, which the beautiful young maiden did. The Royal Wizard admonished the beautiful young maiden to return from the good king of all the land’s ball by the stroke of Midnight, or else, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
The beautiful young maiden was borne off by the coach just as her lean yellow cat was returning home for the evening, so the pleasant white mouse had little or no time to devote to figuring out what had just happened. Needless to say, he spent the next several hours shivering in his safe crack at the base of the wall in the corner of the garden.
It was very, very, very late indeed when the pleasant white mouse was awakened from a troubled sleep by the clatter of galloping horses racing down the well-worn lane. Not fully awake, he crept out of the crack just in time to see the curious sight of the beautiful young maiden’s coach returning at Mach speed as the bell-clock in the castle tower peeled Midnight. The coach had just reached the front walk of the little house when the last tone rang out. As it did, there was a flash of light and a puff of smoke.
The pleasant white mouse was hardly surprised at all when the great coach and horses vanished and was replaced by a smashed pumpkin, assorted hoping toads and a confusion of fat, grey rats.
“Oh, bother! Where are we now?” one of the fat, grey rats wondered, quite put off. The pleasant white mouse was startled to discover that he recognized the voice.
“You’re in front of a little house belonging to a beautiful young maiden who works as a scullery maid for a well-to-do matron in the fine house out by the grove. You’re on a well-worn lane off the main street which runs through town at the bottom of the hill of the castle that belongs to the good king of all the land, my friend. That’s where you are.”
To his great delight, the gentle grey rat turned to see the pleasant white mouse standing next to him. “How wonderful to see you again, my friend,” the gentle grey rat remarked as he brushed the dust of the well-worn lane from his shiny fur. “It just doesn’t get any better than this, don’t you agree?”
“Frankly,” the pleasant white mouse allowed, “I’ve seen better. Tell me, where have you been since we last met.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” the gentle grey rat said. “I suppose there’s a moment or two for that. You remember the last moment when we were still face-to-face, I suppose?”
“Yes, indeed I do,” the pleasant white mouse assured his friend.
“Well, in the very next instant, I was transported to my new home in the laboratory of the Royal Wizard.”
“In the remotest tower of the castle?” the pleasant white mouse was quite astounded. This revelation alone explained much.
“The very same. It’s a wonderful arrangement, my dear friend. All our needs are taken care of. In return, we participate in some of the old sorcerer’s experiments,” the gentle grey rat signaled to his laboratory companions to assemble around him as he talked.
“Sounds dangerous,” the pleasant white mouse observed.
“There’s some risk, I suppose,” the gentle grey rat admitted, “but the rewards are well worth it. Why don’t you come along with us and find out for yourself. You look a frightful mess, if you don’t mind my saying so. The second trap was meant for you, after all.”
“Do you still live in a cage?” the pleasant white mouse asked, tempted but not convinced.
“A trifling inconvenience, I assure you,” the gentle grey rat said in a hurried voice. “Please say you’ll come straight away, because we really must be going now.”
“No,” said the pleasant white mouse reluctantly. “Better lean freedom than fat slavery.”
“As you wish, my fine friend,” the gentle grey rat smiled sadly. “Good luck to you always. Take care of yourself.”
“And you,” the pleasant white mouse said as the gentle grey rat disappeared with his friends in a flash of light and a puff of smoke.
He brushed a tear from his eye. In that instant the lean yellow cat with black stripes across his back was upon him, making a pleasant Midnight snack of the white mouse after all.
Moral: “Freedom” is just another word for “nothing left to lose.”
