Congratulations Mouse Train Conductor!

You’re a mouse who conducts a tiny train. You already know this, we’re telling our readers what’s up, because they might be a little confused. So here’s the deal, READERS:

Mice have trains that run through your walls. That’s what all that scuttling is about. Usually these trains run between key locations, like from the kitchen to the Mousehome, the giant hollowed out collective home that mice have in the center of each and every home they inhabit. Sometimes they stop at the bathroom so mice can get small amounts of toothpaste and watch naked people while they’re wet and soapy (fun fact: mice are almost all perverts). Wherever they go and whatever they do there, they have to get there via the mouse train, and you’re the mouse who drives it.

This means you wear a tiny, adorable conductor’s hat. Sometimes it falls over your eyes and it’s even more adorable. Occasionally you squeak orders at coal-stained mice who stoke your engine. You act imperious to them, but you’re really buddies who hang out later at the mouse-bar, so it’s all still quite adorable.

But that’s all just background for the neophytes. What’s really important is what’s going down today.

Today your train is going to be assaulted by cat-bandits. They’ll have found their way into the wall and, despite being horrified, their instincts towards mindless cruelty will have remained intact. They’ll hiss and strike at you with their claws, trying to rake mice off the train.

But as a stalwart mouse conductor you won’t be perturbed. Instead you’ll simply load your mouse-kett (so cute!) and fire it, point blank, into a cat’s eye, blinding it and giving your train the time it needs to reach the Mousehome. Once you get there you’ll spread word of the approaching threat and rally a small army to combat it. You’ll be celebrated as a hero, and tomorrow you’ll be a mouse-conductor no more, but for now we’d just like to say Congratulations Mouse Train Conductor!

Congratulations on Being Eaten by a Hawk!

Today you’re going to be going about your business, collecting grain and nuts and the like that larger creatures have forgotten, when a hawk will suddenly and violently descend from the heavens and grasp you in its claws.

You’ll screech your tiny mouse lungs all the way up, and when the hawk drops you you’ll believe, because you’re a mouse and ergo are a bit of an idiot, that you are free and that you have nothing to worry about. This belief will be dashed, along with your little mousy brain, when you hit some rocks.

Then the hawk will gently descend on some thermals and settle upon the stones where your body lays so that he can eat your remains.

The whole thing is basically an allegory for the middle class in America, by the way.

Congratulations on Being Eaten by a Hawk!

Congratulations on Eating the Entire Package!

Today you’re going to be a family of mice.

You spend most of your time scurrying from place to place and desperately trying to survive despite being plagued by all number of dangers, not the least of which is filthy, filthy people who lay their cunning, cunning traps (That cheese on wood looks too good to be true? It probably is.). You also occasionally have mouse sex, which is brief and, shockingly, not very cute.

You live simple, hard lives, but today it’s all going to pay off. Today, during a routine raid on a suburban home populated by college students one of them, the one who was at home, will be doing heroin. You’ll know this, having learned to speak English as a result of some experiments performed by a crazy German scientist who was obsessed with the American victory in World War II, and you’ll have chosen this time to strike out of a belief that the human will be sedate.

You’ll be spot on about that. The tardbus will boot so much H into his veins that he’ll seize up in his bed and die foaming at the mouth, whimpering softly as the gasses leave his body. You’ll squeal in glee and scamper freely through the kitchen, free for the first time in this new home. You’ll gather up all the food you can and drag it back to your hidey hole, all the food you want spare one critical bit: an untouched packet of Oreo cookies stored on a high shelf.

It’ll be out of your reach, even with your amazing climbing abilities. You’ll scree in frustration, cursing the inventor of the high cabinet in mousespeak. You’ll skitter and squeal and romp about in the empty house, trying to work some of the angry out, when one of you has an idea: by burrowing into the dead drug addict’s brain you could theoretically control his body. From his body you could gather up all the Oreos in the house and bring them back to your nest, where the packaging would give you shelter and the Oreos themselves would provide you with delicious delicious sustenance.

You’ll agree to work as a team and set about your labor immediately, boring a hole through his soft upper palate right into the junkie’s brain. From there the nerdy mouse, the one with glasses, will control the junkie’s body using nerve endings. He’ll fail at getting the junkie safely down the stairs to the pantry but he’ll succeed at getting his shattered limbs to stand, grab the cookies and carry them back the nest.

Once there you’ll leave his corpse to the elements. Inside your delightful hidey hole you’ll devour cookies and squeal in delight. For one night, at least, life will be good for you.

Congratulations on Eating the Entire Package!