The other day, an acquaintance on Facebook wrote about an “encounter” with a couple of mice that had invaded her second story writing office. She “inflated” the encounter here and there to give it a little fun.
Below is my response to her posting. The encounter told from the point of view of the mice.
Told all in dialogue. You can be the judge if it works.
I call it, Encounter in Fine Print.
“Brian. Hey, Brian, you think it’s workin’? Think we’re scaring her?”
“Yeah, Pink, I think if we stare at her long enough through this magnifying thing we found she’ll think we are four times our size with fangs and claws six inches long. Just keep staring at her.”
“But Brian….”
“Yes, Pink?”
“How do we eat and stare at the same time?”
“We don’t, Pink.”
“Why do you call me Pink? My name’s Gerald.”
“Gerald won’t get us anywhere.”
“Are we goin’ somewhere? I thought we came here for snacks. You know, cheese bits and stuff.”
“Never say ‘and stuff.’ Just say cheese bits.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“So, I have to be Pink because you said so, and I can’t say ‘and stuff’ because you said so.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t think I like this game.”
“It’s not a game, Gerald. It’s … it’s … ah … okay, it is a game, but it is a game to make us famous.”
“I want snacks.”
“When we become famous, you will have all the snacks you can handle. I’ll even give you one of mine, Pink.”
“Really!” Pink said.
“Really.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Brian said.
“But when do we get snacks?”
“After we scare this woman. She’s a writer. We scare her, she will put us in one of her stories, her fantastical tales.”
“My tail is nice, but I wouldn’t call it fantastic.”
“It’s not about your tail.”
“If it’s not about snacks and it’s not about my tail. What is it about?”
“Gerald….”
“I thought it was Pink.”
“Pink, I will say it one last time. It’s about being famous. This lady writer writes a story about us in which we are monsters out to take over the world. We’re fifty foot—No, 100 foot rats with fangs like Mammoth tusks and we eat everything in sight. Men, women, children.”
“And they’re our snacks?”
“Yes, Pink, they are our snacks.”
“But I don’t want to eat children.”
“You don’t have to.”
“When do we eat? I’m starving.”
“Not yet, because we have to have to take the story to a Hollywood director, who will want to turn it into a screenplay with lots of special effects that he will use to splash the story across the big screen.”
“And we’ll be movie stars and get snacks?”
“Yes.”
“The Hundred Foot Rat starring Pink and Brian.”
“Brian and Pink”
“Pink and Brian.”
“I think you need a new name.”
“Brian’s a good name.”
“So’s Gerald. But you won’t let it be Gerald and Brian.”
“Okay. Maybe we can use an anagram.”
“Aunt Gram? I think your name would be silly. Aunt Gram.”
“Anagram. Anagram. You rearrange the letters to spell something else.”
“Oh, is that how you got Pink out of Gerald?”
“Ah … exactly.”
“Then what would your Aunt Gram be?”
“Brian … Brian … An rib? No. Hummm. Brian … Brian. Brain. That’s it – Brain.”
“So, we’ll be Pink and Brain.”
“Oh, okay. Your nom de guerre can be first.”
“Now it’s going to be Name the gear and Brain?”
“Pink for short.”
“So Pink for short and Brian?”
“Close enough.”
“Hey, where did the lady writer go? The one who was going to make us monsters?”
“Well, Pink for short, I think she went to get help.”
“You mean another writer to help her write our story, Brain? Our story with snacks in it?”
“Not exactly. I don’t think those footsteps sound friendly.”
“You mean no snacks, Brain.”
“I mean no snacks, Pink.”
“And I bet there ain’t no story, either.”
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