| You flash your sword
and hold it over the mice. Gaping upward, they compare their sewing
needles to your full-size blade. One by one, their jaws drop open -- and
they back up in unison.
"Well, if he wants to rat on us, that's okay with me," says one mouse. "Same with me," says another. Another mouse shrugs. "Don't see a problem here." "I just remembered," says the leader. "We're mice, not men." Putting away their needles, they scurry into a corner, and draw deep drags on their cigarettes -- and start coughing and wheezing. Muttering in disgust, you return
to the kitchen and slam the door.
|