Filed under: Miscellanea
Well, mouseketeers, here we are in part three. For those who came in late, parts one and two are advisable, for obvious reasons.
So. Poor old Lenny was living large but lonely in a mouse mansion. He slowly began to get over all the terrible things that had happened to his loved ones, and spent his days in thoughtful solitude. Sure, sometimes he yearned for a companion – but after all he’d been through, perhaps this way of life was for the best. Story over. Everyone learnt a lesson. Le Fin.
Now, perhaps this would have been so, had I not, at that tender age, had myself a boyfriend who played bass guitar. He suited my 20-year old self quite well, even if he did have the tendency to drink somewhat to excess, and was known, on one occasion, to pass out in a nearby dumpster. It will not shock you that Guitar Boy was in a series of bands that did not quite make it. He lead an interesting life, however, and thanks to him I found myself in a van on the way to the Nimbin Mardi Grass.
His band was playing at the festival, albeit on the little marketplace stage, and I felt very, very bohemian. We slept in sleeping bags on the stage itself that night. The stage smelt of chai tea and other things. The next morning, in the marketplace, I saw a man with a large cardboard box marked ‘FREE MICE’. This could only be a good idea.
Artist's impression.
I named the mouse Fergus. I’d been assured he was a boy. He seemed a sweet little fellow, white and ginger, and very friendly. Back in Brisbane, I introduced Lenny to his new roommate. I’d read that two male mice could nip at each other sometimes, so the plan was to keep them in separate cages at night. This didn’t eventuate. Fergus the Nimbin mouse was a placid, peaceful individual. I can’t think why.
For several weeks, the odd couple seemed to be the best of friends. Eventually, though, Fergus decided he’d had enough of The Man getting him down. He decided to break on through to the other side…of the cage. He gnawed away at a gap in the plastic and attempted to escape. I caught him, returned him to his prison and fixed the cage (with duct tape, I assume). It happened again. I repeated the process. Gosh, mice were really very tiresome.
One morning, I awoke to find a Greek tragedy in miniature. Lenny had suffered a similar fate as his poor dead children. Fergus, probably freaking out in the middle of a flashback, had snapped. He had killed poor Lenny, and eaten half of him. He’d then escaped through another tiny gnawed hole he’d concealed behind his food dish.
Oh, Lenny. Poor, sweet, Lenny.
Happily, a strange sort of justice reared its head. We later found half of Fergus on the back verandah. The other half was being savoured gingerly by Clarissa.
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