Congratulations on Riding the Mouse to Freedom!

In the days after your escape from the giant’s butthole, the world will begin to come into focus.  Slowly, surely, you’ll begin to recognize your surroundings not as a strange fantasy world beyond your understanding but as an area of Texas known to be populated with existentialist giants and incredibly large rodents.  With that in mind you’ll have your faithful giant-mouse steed Crispin turned around and pointed towards Baton Rouge in a matter of hours.

The journey that comes will take days. Over these days you’ll have learned a lot.  About yourself, about the lay of the land, about the way that mice eat, defecate and urinate when they’re increased to a tremendous, even terrible scale.  It will be a truly amazing journey, one that will leave you absolutely desperate to get back to your apartment and your cats and to never see another giant mouse penis again.

But alas, as you ride up to Baton Rouge, mouse steed a galoomphing, waving at your methhead neighbors as they briefly emerge from their mid-day hazes, pausing occasionally to convince the police not to shoot you and your mouse-friend out of hand, explaining that while his mousepenis is quite terrifying he is a gentle soul, possessed of a truly generous heart.

After your long journey the familiar streets will seem so foreign, so strange, that you won’t realize until you’re nearly home that you’re riding through the ruins of a freak flood until you’re nearly at your apartment.  That will make your discovery an ever greater surprise.

When you rear Crispin by your home you’ll notice that your apartment will be by and large missing.  Elements of the building in which it rested will be there, but for the most part the structure itself will be long gone.  A wooden sign, hammered into the ground, will read “Management Not Responsible for Loss of Property.”  You’ll rouse a nearby methhead and, after explaining to him that you aren’t interested in getting your dick sucked for meth, discover that the building exploded when the storm got to the fuse box and “blew ‘er all to hell.”

There were no survivors.

You’ll pause for a moment, thinking of your cats.  Then you’ll laugh, remembering how much you hated them and imagining how wonderful life will be without them.  You’ll place your hand near Crispin’s mouth, prompting him to lick your palm affectionately, before thanking the homeless man and riding off to your ex-girlfriend’s house to tell her that your cats are dead, you have a giant mouse and you want her back.

All things considered, this will be the best considered attempt to get back together with her that you’ll ever have enacted.  It will be successful for a period of two weeks, just long enough for her to begin sleeping with Crispin and for you to find a new apartment.

Congratulations on Riding the Mouse to Freedom!