My First Adventure(2)
I awoke to a loud shriek. Well, as loud as a mouse shriek can be. To you humans, it sounds no louder than the buzz of a mosquito right in your ear. I immediately jumped off our matchbox couch and grabbed my sword. My senses were on high alert. I stealthily crept from our dining room and followed the scream to the World of the Unknown Dining Room. Here I stopped. My heart throbbed uncomfortably in my chest and sweat formed on my whiskers.
We mice had constructed a small door that opened to the Unknown Dining Room. When I little, older mice cousins, particularly the boys, liked to scare me with adventures they had been on when they ventured through that door. With these stories in mind, I took a deep breath and kicked the door open like I'd seen in the American spy movies. Behind the door was the beer cellar. It was dark and dank. I shivered; half from the cold and half from fear. I cautiously looked around, futilely trying to see in the darkness.
"Mother?" I called softly. "Are you in here?" I was met with silence. By this time, I was shaking with fright. My feet froze. I could not will my body to take even a small step forward. And I tell you, for a mouse, that is a very rare occurrence. Normally we are always on the move. I stood there in the darkness, petrified. At last, I head a noise. My head snapped to my left where I had heard it. I mustered all my courage and took one step to the left. My foot touched something and I froze. It was only a case of beer. I would have laughed if I had been able to. My heart was pounding, I could have sworn I heard it echo back. How I wished for some light!
Suddenly I remembered the small button lamp that was kept in the cellar. Some mice had put it there so we could see where we were going. Do you know how hard it is to climb up the wall and pull the chain to turn on your human light? We scamper up the wall and simply hope that we can lunge out far enough to grab on to the chain. If we're lucky, sometimes we are even able to blow the chain towards us so that we can grab it with our teeth. I'm telling you, it's hard work being a mouse! We're always there for you humans, but you never acknowledge all our efforts to help make sure the world runs smoothly. When you do see us, you scream. Especially you ladies. But you can't be picky about companionship during a war. Particularly if you live in a POW camp. Besides, at least I smell better than the rest. I try to keep myself clean. Dear me, I am getting ahead of myself. I'm so very sorry.
Anyway, I lit the button lamp and took it in my hand. Immediately a warm, yellow light illuminated the room about an inch around me. I took very small steps towards the noise. At last, I found it. There, right in front of me, was the biggest web I had ever seen. It was old, I could tell by the dust coating the web turning it grey. I raised the lamp carefully, looking for the spider who had made it. To my relief, no eight-legged creature appeared. But as my light cast on the very bottom of the web, I shrieked. (Yes, I can shriek under very trying circumstances. You ever tell anyone, I'll tell your mouse to leave you.) My mother was caught in the spider's web. Quite literally.
"Mother!" I yelled. I was so happy to see her, I started crying. (Yes, I can cry also. You tell anyone and I'll...well, you know what I'll do.) Through my tears, I could see she had started hyperventilating. I forced myself to stop crying and crept close to her. She needed help, but I didn't know what to do. I had to get her down from the web. Now. I frantically looked around for some help. At last, I shook myself. "Don't be an idiot, Felix," I said, "no one is going to be here. You're on your own."
I immediately regretted that not so peppy pep talk. The last sentence caused me to think about how alone and lost I was. No one is going to help me. Mother and I are going to be trapped. It is all my fault. I can't do anything, I am just a small, undergrown mouse. I shouldn't even be here. It's not fair. I'm only two weeks old. This wasn't supposed to happen. I huddled in the corner as these thoughts grew and grew. On every side, such accusations rained down mercilessly. I couldn't take anymore. I jumped up and shouted, "I can do it and I will!" Suddenly, I realized I held my sword in my hand. It had been completely forgotten in my fear. I was so relieved, I nearly fainted. Letting out a big sigh, I slumped against the wall, trying to catch my breath.
"Perfect," I said. "This will do nicely." I walked to the web and sliced Mother down. Dust and wings of old flies rained down on my handsome fur. I ignored the dust, but quickly blew a stray wing away from my mouth. I knelt down and tried my best to wipe away the web from Mother's fur. Even in such an instance, I knew she would appreciate my attempt at cleanliness. Especially when it was her own body. She washed herself with five different bars of scented soap. Another one of her "eccentric" habits.
She was still hyperventilating, so I hugged her tightly and tried to calm her down. I didn't know what to do. Yeah, I know. Make them breathe into a bag. Do you think they make bags small enough for mice? I tell you, they don't. It's just not fair at all. Say, that's a good idea. Maybe I should invent bags small enough for mice to breathe into. Oh, sorry, I'll get back to the story. Anyways, I couldn't find a paper bag, but I did find an old soda cap. It was next to a crate. I grabbed it and brought it up to her snout.
"Breathe deeply, Mother. Breathe with me." Together, we inhaled and exhaled. I kept the cap to her nose, though mice don't really have noises, and it seemed to work. Finally, she was back to normal. She was very weak, but she threw her arms around me and squeezed tightly. Mother started sobbing.
"Shhh. It's okay, Mama," I tried to comfort her. "Let's get you home, and you can take a bath. You'll feel a lot better afterward." I helped her up and gave her my arm for support. In my other hand, I clutched my sword and the button lamp. We walked to the door where I blew out the button lamp and set it down for the next mouse to use. Then I took Mama and led her through the door.
We were home.
